Killer Mate. Copyright © 2016 Ella Drake.
All rights reserved.

(un-edited excerpt)

Triumph lit Tee’s face as he bared his fangs. His groin pressed again Mal’s erection and Mal groaned. Tee was hard as a rock but his excitement was all blood-lust, no desire. A trickle of saliva slid down a fang and landed on Mal’s face. Reflexively, he licked out, catching that taste of Tee that exploded inside him. He groaned again and his body went slack. It wouldn’t listen to his internal urgings to fight, to kill, to rip Tee apart.

Too late, he remembered the cyborg programming. No killing.

Sagging, he muttered, “Fuck.”

“Not this time, lover.” Tee wrenched his head to the side and lunged toward him.

Fangs sank into Mal’s neck and this time, it wasn’t for pleasure. Pain sliced hot and deep through him and he roared.

“What are you doing?” The question echoed from far away.

“Is this him?”

Tee growled and whipped his head while his teeth were buried into Mal. The tearing sent agony through him and a dim corner of his mind questioned why a cyborg didn’t present pheromones but did experience pain.

“We need him alive, fool,” someone roared.

His throat ripped and the weight on him disappeared. Staring at the ceiling, Mal watched it seemingly descend on him. Hands pressed on his neck and perversely, Mal wondered if he bled blood or oil. That was something he should already know, wasn’t it? His systems wanted to shut down. A blinking suffused his vision and took away the ceiling he still stared at.

“No,” he gurgled, telling his body to remain online. The wet sound would’ve meant a human was drowning on his own blood, but Mal didn’t think this body would give in so soon.

Harsh grips lifted him and held him in a sitting position.

“You’re Mal?” Dimly came through the rushing in his ears, rushing of the blood fueled nanobots repairing his ripped neck.

“Why?” he croaked.

“I’m prepared to hire you.”