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

“What threat are you guarding me against?” she tried again.

“Hopefully none.”

“Why do I need a guard at all, then?” she demanded, beginning to wonder if he wasn’t there to protect her at all but rather to keep her prisoner.

He tilted his head curiously. “Because you are a female … and you are a person of primary interest to the people besides.”

Trying to communicate with the cyborgs was a little like beating one’s head on a brick wall. They spoke absolutely directly to every question without elaborating one iota and actually providing any information. Either they just didn’t grasp the subtle nuances beyond the specific question, or they deliberately ignored them.

“Are you going to stand over me and watch me while I bathe?” she demanded testily.

Something flickered in his eyes. As quick as thought, she saw a flash of desire, and then it was extinguished just as abruptly. “I can if you wish it.”

Her lips tightened. “Well, I don’t wish it!”

He nodded and strode from the bathroom.

She waited until she heard sounds from the food preparation center and then removed the loincloth and examined the bathing unit. Like those on the ship she’d grown accustomed to, this also used water. After adjusting the temperature, she stepped beneath the spray and simply stood allowing the water to pelt her for a while before she finally, reluctantly, looked around for soap to wash with. The scent was delicate, cleaning smelling and pleasure welled within her as she took up the bathing cloth provided and scrubbed herself thoroughly and then washed her hair.

As good as it was to feel really clean, the longer she stayed the more drained she felt of emotion and energy. She was almost tempted to curl up on the floor of the unit and go to sleep. Rousing herself finally, she shut the water off and got out. Too weary to make much of an attempt at drying, she patted the drying cloth over herself haphazardly and wandered back into the sleeping chamber to look around for the clothes Caleb had mentioned.

There was a clothes locker built into the wall next to the bath that was large enough to walk in to. About a dozen medical uniforms had been hung in a neat, precise row—and all of them were big enough it didn’t take a great deal of thought to figure out they’d been meant for a man—her father. There were other garments folded neatly on shelves. Deciding it must be underclothes, she took the garments out and examined them.

There wasn’t much to them, she discovered, but it was easy enough to see that one triangle of fabric was intended to cover her genitals and the double ‘patch’ like garment was for her breasts. She was studying the swatch of cloth she was apparently expected to cover her femininity with when Caleb returned to check her progress. She covered herself with her hands instinctively when he appeared in the door way.

“Uh … these don’t look very familiar,” she said uncomfortably.

“They are designed to enhance the womanly figure. This goes here,” he said plucking the triangular shaped garment from her hands and pointing to her mound. “This covers these pretty things.”

Bronte’s jaw went slack with stunned surprise when he casually reached out and cupped a breast in either hand. He’d already withdrawn his hands, however, by the time she recovered enough from her shock to consider slapping his hands away. “I will help you.”

Bronte snatched the garment out of his hands. “I don’t think so! I can figure it out by myself—could, if I wanted to. I think I’d just as soon wear the uniform without them.”

“The uniform will not fit. It is male clothing in any case. These were brought when we reported that a female doctor had been brought instead of a male as expected.”

Bronte’s eyes widened. “I’m expected to wear only this?”

“There are skirts, as well,” he informed her pulling one from the shelf and displaying it.

She could’ve read a book through it—both sides! “What is that for?”

“Allure.”

Somehow, if everything the men had told her was true, she doubted the women needed to worry about enhancing their femininity by going around the next thing to naked! They could’ve looked like … trogs and she was pretty sure the males would still have been just as interested. “I think I’ll wear the uniforms anyway,” she said mutinously. “My men wouldn’t like me wearing anything like this,” she added pointedly, tossing the skimpy garments back on the shelf and grabbing one of the uniforms.

“Your men?”

She didn’t look at him. She was too busy climbing into the jumpsuit. Caleb was a gorgeous male. There was no doubt about that, and she could see he was way more interested than just a little. She didn’t want to tell him about the contracts because she was worried that they might get into trouble, and because she had this awful fear that Gideon might have taken her seriously when she’d suggested he throw the contracts away. But he needed to know that she was taken and off limits.

“I contracted with Gideon, Jerico, and Gabriel before we … uh … crashed.”

He was frowning, she saw, when she finally glanced at him.

“There is food,” he said instead of acknowledging what she’d told him or responding to it in any way beyond the frown, which could’ve meant anything.

She didn’t know why it unnerved her.

She decided she wasn’t really up to another attempt to pry information out of him, though. It would be better anyway, she decided, to talk to Gideon and the others about it before she ran her mouth and, possibly, got them into trouble—or embarrassed herself. She needed to talk to them and make sure they hadn’t taken what she’d said literally.

He’d fixed food for both of them, she saw when she’d followed him back into the preparation area. Two plates full of steaming food, two place settings, and two glasses awaited them on the dining table. Taking the chair he pointed out, she studied