Unfortunately, it fixed the rest of him at the same time: his dislocated shoulder, the bruises on his face, and the rest of his fake human-self under his clothes.
He knew the moment his detached thumb was separated from the ship waste and recycled, broken down and created into something new for the man-made ecosystem to use. Thrown into a machine where the ship’s power was abundant.
His lips perked up into a satisfied grin.Directly connected.He siphoned and fed.
Gunner willed the lights to flicker softly overhead and they did.
He willed the panel on his cell door to silently unlock and it did.
He left his body and connected with the ship’s security, turning off the hallway visual feeds. Gunner suppressed the sirens. They powered back on a second later.
Power.Power was better than patience.
He leaned his head back and groaned. Although in pain, his body had become a beacon, a lodestone, and he could give or take as much as he wanted.
If it came down to a race of who got what they wanted first, him or the pricks who took his ship, he was damn sure he was going to win. Even if how he won was unconventional.
He rose to his feet, feeling good, and unzipped his pants. His ears pricked to the snore and grunts of those around him, his focus on full alert as he released his cock and pissed.
Your ship’s mine now.
Gunner watched the stream vanish to wherever it would go, knowing that his scent was marking the vessel from the inside out. He flicked his flaccid thumb, finding enjoyment in the discomfort of his swollen and weak skin while his scent overpowered all others.
He looked over his shoulder at Ely who had clenched his eyes shut.
Strike for female.
Gunner moved around his cell and marked every corner, spraying what was now his—the hallway beyond and the cell door, putting special attention into the handle. He continued until his smell bled into Royce’s unit and the spaces outside but stopped at the bars he shared with Ely. When his water stores were depleted, and the nanocells he had distributed throughout dried, cleaned up, and claimed, he zipped up his fly and sat up against the bars nearest his own little entertainment.
“You can open your eyes now,” he said.
Sagging forward, Ely sighed and frowned, but ultimately opened his eyes and looked back at him. His lips pursed and moved though no words came out. Gunner couldn’t stop his grin from growing, and the larger it got, the more Ely responded. Nostrils flared and back upright, Ely searched his cell and grimaced.
“Do you want to know why I pissed all over everything?” he goaded under his breath.
Ely looked his way, brow furrowed.He’s angry.
Why is he angry?His entertainment got a little more entertaining.
His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, and a long whistle of air blew out between his lips.Speak Ely, speak.Gunner felt like a canine giving a kitten commands, and unlike hisCanis mesomelasDNA, he knew a cat couldn’t be commanded. A human could.
“Why?” Ely breathed out.
The word flooded his ears like a triumphant cleansing and he gripped the bars between them. He pressed forward, his nose pushing into Ely’s space, making him startle back.Why?A single syllable, gruff and low, hidden underneath practice and intrigue. Gunner was intrigued. That word went right to his head and embedded into his systems. It replayed, again and again, the tone, hue, and context and it all...
Screamed feminine.
You’ve outed yourself, woman.
Gunner sucked in the newly scented air of the brig, trying to smell onlyher, but found his own scent overpowering it. His hold on the bars wrenched, annoyed, thwarted again in his effort for answers. His healing thumb ached and burned under the pressure and the metal beneath his fingers bent.
‘Why?’Ely’s voice had been feminine and angry. Ely went frompossiblybeing a man in his head to unquestionably being a woman.
Prove me wrong, he thought to himself, demanding his own technology to do so and silently demandingher.
Gunner regained control and released the bars.I need her to get closer, need to smell what’s really her.Suddenly, the power he had attained melted into the past and impatience reclaimed its spot on the throne of his central mainframe.
His focus returned in a blink of the eye and he answered her, “I was marking my territory.”
