I was stunned that she was astute enough to ask if I was her cyborg when I rescued her. But Dagger Jack and his mate Chloe had been traveling the continent scanning the DNA of femaleswho wished to be matched with a cyborg. That is how Zaya probably knew to ask me.
There was so much I wanted to ask about her. Considering where I found her, I wasn’t sure from where she had been kidnapped. There were gangs kidnapping women all over North America. At first, we thought the eastern overlords were collecting women for their brothels, but they soon discovered it was even more sinister. The gangs were kidnapping women and children to sell to the Mesaarkans.
Some of the captives were used as regular slaves, but they used others the way Gar’hako used Zaya. I clenched my jaw, remembering the scene as I had burst into that alien’s quarters. His death came far too quickly. Again, I fantasized about killing him slowly and painfully, relishing every scream my technique would have elicited. But I would have to be satisfied with taking care of my newfound mate and helping her find happiness for the rest of her life. Gar’hako could only die once. At least I had the satisfaction of killing the male who abused my mate.
Zaya was alive, and she was healing as I watched over her, enjoying just being with her. I knew what a life-altering event this would be. I couldn’t just go back to my job as a protector without taking the time to get to know her and figure out how our lives would fit together.
Lieutenant Hawk had given me open-ended leave to work things out with her.
Zaya
I woke with a start, feeling disoriented but rested. Then I turned and saw Steele sitting in the chair beside my bed. As I looked around, I remembered I was in a hospital. Recent events were kind of hazy, but I remembered Steele carrying me and holding me on his lap against his solid body. I’d felt warm and safe.
“Steele, you stayed.” I smiled warmly at him.
“Of course, I stayed.” He stood and came to the bedside. “You may not remember, but you are my genetic mate.”
“I do. That’s the one thing I do remember. Everything else is like a bad dream of a distant memory.” I reached out, and Steele took my hand in both of his.
“I won’t lie. It’s worse than a bad dream. But it’s over, and you’re safe now.”
“I really was the alien’s sex slave,” I remembered it like I might recall an incident from my childhood. It was disturbing but felt remote.
Steele sighed ruefully. “I hoped you wouldn’t have to remember that.”
“But you came and killed him and rescued me just like the fantasy I’d had many times since I was taken.” I frowned thoughtfully. “But, the rest—I remember it almost like it happened to someone else a long time ago. It’s weird.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work. The nanites are supposed to dim those traumatic memories, but sometimes, they damage other memories. Do you remember where you lived before you were taken?”
“My family ranch outside of Gretchen, though not much ranching has happened there since before I was born. About all I could manage on my own was a garden, some chickens and goats—and my dog.” Tears filled my eyes as I feared for them. “They could all be dead; I don’t even know how long I was gone. Those guys pulled me out of the garden while I was planting.”
Steele was still holding my hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “Do you know the coordinates? I can have someone check their status and secure the animals.”
“Yes. Great grandfather had a map framed and hung it on the wall with them on it.” She gave him the coordinates.
“Okay.” he paused for a few seconds while he contacted his Sergeant with the information. “My fellow Protectors, Raven and Trinity, will go to your ranch and secure it. Then, they will report the status.”
“Thank you. I’m almost afraid to find out.”
Steele tried to be subtle, but he was constantly on alert and seemed very protective. “Dr. Star is coming,” he said just before she knocked on the door and entered the room.
“Protector Steele.” She greeted him with a nod.
“Good day, Zaya. I’ll do a quick scan from my CPU, and then we’ll talk about how you feel.” The doctor crossed the room, stood by my bed, and appeared to do a visual sweep from my head to toe.
“You have recovered physically to 95 percent. Tell me what you remember about your trauma.”
I related the same information I told Steele. “I remember it somewhat, but I feel like I have accepted that it happened and can go on with my life.”
“Very good,” said Dr. Star. “You appear to have achieved optimal results. I will clear you for discharge.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
Dr. Star nodded and left the room.
“Oh, no. I can’t go anywhere. I literally don’t have anything to wear.”
“You do, now. I took the liberty of ordering some basic outfits and shoes for you—like what I’m wearing.”
