Cyborg Nation Kaitlyn O'Connor (books to get back into reading TXT) 📖

to talk to and come to the med center and found out where she was?

It was daylight outside. She couldn’t begin to judge the time of day, but it didn’t look like weak early morning light.

“You are awake?”

Jolted from her thoughts, Bronte sat up, discovering in the process that she didn’t have a stitch of clothes on. Grabbing the cover, she yanked it up and eyed Caleb suspiciously. “I don’t remember undressing!”

“You did not.”

He didn’t even have the grace to look the least bit embarrassed or contrite!

“Then how did I get undressed?” she demanded.

“I undressed you.”

She gave him a look, wondering how she could possibly have slept through that. Jog her mind though she might, however, she couldn’t really recall anything after she’d eaten except crawling into the bed. “Why did you do that?”

He tilted his head curiously. “You did not wish to wear your uniform to sleep?”

Her lips tightened. “I would’ve taken it off if I’d wanted it off!”

He nodded. “This is an Earth custom? It seems unnecessarily restrictive.”

“It is not an Earth custom—at least … Well, some people sleep in sleeping clothes.”

“Do you?”

“Ordinarily not.”

“Then this is no problem.”

“It is a problem!”

“Why?”

“Do you always undress women while they’re too out of it with exhaustion to defend themselves?”

A slow grin curled his lips, making it impossible, despite her irritation, to ignore the fact that he was really exceptionally handsome. He was fair, though, like Gideon, and she decided it was because he reminded her of Gideon. Not that he looked anything like Gideon, but he was fair. “I have not had the opportunity before.”

“I thought you were supposed to guard me?”

“Yes.”

She frowned at him. “Did they tell you just to help yourself and do anything you wanted to?”

His dark brows drew together thoughtfully, as if he was vaguely confused by her question. Finally, his brow cleared. “No. But they did not say I could not look.”

Bronte pursed her lips irritably. “Well! I hope you enjoyed it!” she said indignantly.

“I did, thank you.”

She reddened, trying to decide whether to laugh or throw something at him. She decided it would be better to ignore him. Flopping back onto her pillow, she pulled the cover over her head. “How long did I sleep?”

“Twelve hours, seventeen minutes … more or less.”

Bronte sat up again and stared at him. “I was asleep that long?” she gasped, staggered by the information.

“More or less. You roused, but you did not wake. There is food. Medic Brent said that I must see that you eat and drink as much as you can and rest. You have rested. You must eat now.”

She didn’t want to eat now. She’d been asleep for twelve hours! Gideon and the others should’ve been back by now. “Where are my companions?”

He frowned. She wasn’t certain if it was because she’d called them her companions and he didn’t like it, or if there was something he didn’t want to tell her, but she was afraid it was the latter.

“They are being debriefed.”

That had to be wrong. “Still? Do you know that? Or do you just think they must be?”

He crossed the room and opened her clothes locker, studying the clothing inside. “I know this,” he said coolly, selecting the feminine garments she had ignored the night before.

“I’m not wearing those!”

“All women wear these … unless you wish to return to the med center to work?”

“I want to go and find my companions!”

“You can not. They are being held.”

That sounded worse than the debriefing. “Held?”

“Yes.”

“Define held, damn it!”

“They are prisoners until it is decided whether command is satisfied with their report or not.”

Bronte stared at him in dismay for several moments before she could even think of anything else to ask. “What for? Have they been charged with something?”

“Yes,” he answered, handing her the clothes he’d selected for her.

Bronte glared at his hand for a moment and finally snatched the clothes from him. “I’m going to see them. I need to talk to them.”

“You will not be allowed to speak with them … or to enter the brig to see them.”

Bronte wrestled with that information for several moments and finally drew a shaky breath, trying to fight down her anxiety and think. “Is it about the crash?”

“That is one thing.”

“But … that was an accident! Something hit the ship! How could they be blamed for that?”

“Command will decide if they are to blame.”

“I was there! I know what happened. Couldn’t I talk to whoever is in command and explain?”

“You will be called upon to do so.”

Relief flooded her. “When?”

“I do not know. When they are ready, they will summon you.”

She wasn’t happy with that. She wanted to go right that moment and clear everything up.

She needed to talk to Gideon and make him understand she hadn’t meant it about breaking contract.

Well, she had, but it wasn’t because she didn’t care. It was because she did. She’d been nearly as afraid that she wouldn’t be capable of being a true companion/mate to them as she had been that she was dying. She’d been afraid that they’d be as disappointed in her as she was in herself. And she’d thought it would be much better to break the agreement herself than to hold them to it when they might not want to be held, or to force them to break it themselves because she wasn’t capable of holding up her end of the agreement.

Aside from that, she missed them. They’d been her constant companions for months and far closer with her, even though they hadn’t been able to have sex, since the crash. They’d slept close to her every single night, sharing their body heat to keep her warm and comfortable. They’d tended to her as if she was child, carried her, fed her themselves when she was too weak to manage it on her own, bathed her—helped her ‘go’ even though she’d hated not being able to manage on her own.

It didn’t matter anymore if they weren’t capable of feeling the same things she could. It didn’t