Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (english readers TXT) 📗

and a sudden urgency to examine herself to see if she could tell anything about her abdomen that might explain what was going on inside of her.

Gideon frowned, studying her face searchingly. “Why would you feel dizzy if you are not ill?”

There were times, Bronte reflected, when Gideon’s sharp eyes and his … obsession with her well being weren’t at all welcome. She supposed it was a little of everything, not an obsession—his sense of responsibility, his orders, and the fact that she’d nearly died and hadn’t recovered the way he thought she should—probably the last most of all. He couldn’t be accustomed to seeing anyone laid low for such a long time.

But it was still really annoying at times—especially now.

She sent him a weak smile. “I just remembered I’d left something on the stove when we left Earth,” she said jokingly.

Typically, that sort of joke went right over his head. He frowned at her speculatively for several moments. “What thought would affect you in that way?”

Bronte’s jaw went slack with surprise. “It was nothing. Really,” she added when he looked unconvinced. “Do you think we might be getting closer to the city?”

He gave her a look. “We are one week closer than we were before,” he replied dryly. “Do not change the subject.”

“Then do not ask me something I don’t want to talk about,” Bronte said testily.

His face tautened with anger. She could see he was wrestling with his temper. After a few minutes, he seemed to tamp it. “If something was wrong you would tell me?”

“If I knew something was wrong.”

“Then this thing that worries you is something you think might be wrong?”

When had he become so perceptive?

It dawned on her abruptly that she’d overheard him say once that he was very good at observing. She hadn’t really given that a great deal of thought, but it occurred to her that he’d had a very long time to study her, if that was what he’d been doing, and to begin to understand her.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to give up easily, she dropped her head to his shoulder. “I’m just tired,” she muttered.

“If it is nothing, then why is it that you do not want to tell me?”

She released an exasperated sigh. “Just … leave it alone, Gideon. Please. When I’ve worked it out in my head I’ll tell you.”

She could tell he was still irritated—actually angry, she supposed, because she’d teased him about it until she’d convinced him it must be something really bad.

And the worst of it was she was afraid he was right.

* * * *

One fairly minor skirmish with the trogs, which was minor because they had only happened upon a handful that were apparently out hunting, and one week later, Bronte was more convinced than ever that something was wrong. The lack of a period she could’ve dismissed on a couple of counts—weight loss, trauma, or even mental stress. Something was definitely growing in her belly, however, and it seemed to her that it was growing way too fast to be something delightful. She’d lost a noticeable amount of weight, to her anyway, everywhere except in her belly. She couldn’t tell whether it was actually larger than it had been before or if it only looked like it was because she’d lost weight elsewhere. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that it should be smaller like the rest of her and wasn’t—which meant it was growing, but she couldn’t tell how fast.

At the very outside, assuming there was any possibility of pregnancy, she couldn’t be more than two and half months into gestation because it hadn’t been longer than that since she’d had sex with Gideon the first time. It seemed farfetched that she could’ve gotten impregnated then. It only took once, of course, but the odds seemed astronomical to her that everything would’ve come together to make it happen right then.

After some hopeful consideration she finally decided that nothing fit to make it a pregnancy. She’d had sex several times with both Gideon and Jerico, but that had been later on and she certainly shouldn’t have been showing if she was less than two months.

Poor Gabriel wouldn’t even have been in the running if it was a possibility. She hadn’t had sex with him but twice, and the only time she’d had penetration was right before the crash.

Not that any of that mattered. The chances were that none of the three, no matter how hopeful they might be—or she was, for that matter—would ever have been able to impregnate her.

She wouldn’t have been nearly as frightened if she’d been any where near civilization where she could get help. But not only was she not, they had no idea how long it might take to reach the city. It could be months more and she might not have months.

It was inevitable that they would notice their ‘beautiful’ Bronte was beginning to look strangely misshapen. The top Gideon had made for her from the piece of blanket covered the rounding mound. She had to bathe, though, and Gideon was convinced she still couldn’t bathe alone. For that matter she was convinced of it. The splint made her so awkward she was afraid she’d drown if he, or one of the others, wasn’t there to keep the current from carrying her off so she didn’t really make any attempt to assert herself and demand privacy.

She wasn’t certain who noticed it first, but she finally realized they had when she caught first one and then another staring at her belly, or rather sliding glances in that direction. She wasn’t so conceited she mistook it for sexual interest. She would’ve liked to have thought so. It was hard living among three extremely attractive men without thinking about sex, particularly when it was three men she also happened to be mated with, and with whom she’d thoroughly enjoyed fucking.

She would’ve liked to think that the drought brought about by her injuries bothered them at least as much