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The Drone grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back, exposing my throat. I couldn’t escape him. His breath hit my neck, and my chest caught fire. The moment his fangs tried to touch my skin, I would kill the aphids. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
A distraction would only delay him briefly. He was going to kill my baby. Jesse’s daughter. Mankind’s future. The backs of my eyes burned, and tears engulfed my eyelids, staining my vision in red. I tried to fight it, tried to be strong, but the painful sob pushed past my throat and tore from my lips.
Warm rivers drenched my cheeks, and my throat spasmed with keening noises. Holy hell, I was crying. A tear hadn’t breached my eyes since…never. Never had been a long damned time without this release, and now that it was happening, it fucking poured out of me in gasping, choking, nose-clogging hysterics.
The Drone grabbed my jaw, his claws digging against my cheek. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
I slammed my teeth together, my face stinging where his grip punished my skin. “I’m crying, you asshole.”
He let go of my face like I’d infected him. “Dr. Nealy. Check her eyes.”
Michio’s unfocused gaze moved in, his vacant face blurred by a cloud of red. He touched the inner corner of my eye and held his finger up, the tip wet with blood.
My eyes were bleeding? More tears fell, streaking hot trails down my cheeks. His nostrils flared.
His nostrils flared.
The Drone would’ve commanded his finger to move, but his nostrils? No, that was a reflex. Had the smell of my blood triggered a reaction in him?
What if Michio bit me? I sucked in a wet breath. That would be better than the Drone's bite. My pulse picked up. Why would that be better? Shit, I didn’t know, but my heart clung to the idea, desperate for it.
I closed my eyes. How the fuck could I get him to bite me?
When I glanced up, he was staring at me. I blinked, trying to clear away the red film. Was he actually looking at me? His eyes were glassy, but they seemed to be locked directly on mine. I panted, and his lips parted. Oh my God, his lips fucking moved! It was a reaction. It had to be. Don’t think, Michio. Clear your mind and respond to me.
The Drone gripped the back of Michio’s neck. “Why are her eyes bleeding?”
A frenzied buzz waved over the surrounding aphids. Did they smell my blood or were they picking up on the Drone’s emotions?
I stretched toward Michio as far as the ropes allowed, until my blood-soaked face was an inch below his nose, our lips a kiss away.
His eyes emptied, and his voice droned callously. “A subconjunctival hemorrhage can be caused by high blood pressure, vomiting, or bleeding disorders, however, the blood should not exit the eye.”
My heart sank, and for an eternal moment, I thought I’d lost him.
Then his head lowered. The shift was minuscule, maybe involuntary, but it was enough to graze his fangs against my jaw.
The Drone slammed into us, knocking us closer to the edge as he bellowed, “No!”
His talons slashed at my face and tore across Michio’s arms and back. He shoved his hands between our chests, screaming as he tried to wrench us apart.
The wrestling teetered us backward. Somehow, Michio leaned with me, keeping his mouth near my neck. But I’d been scooted too close to the slope, hanging on by the hook of my legs on the edge.
My stomach hurdled to my throat. Another forceful jerk, and the Drone would successfully push me over the wall.
Michio’s lips brushed my skin, but the pushing and jostling prevented him from sinking his fangs in. He was so stiff and frozen, locked in his body. I tried to bend toward him, hoping…fuck, I hoped the bite would give him the power to free himself.
Three of the six spiders bolted toward us, joining in the Drone’s efforts to hit and claw us apart. The size of Michio’s body deflected most of the strikes against me, but his flesh wasn’t made of Kevlar. The scent of his bloody wounds tinged my laboring inhales.
“Stop it! Get away from him! Fucking stop!” My helpless screams didn’t distract them from hurting him, from making him bleed.
The Drone’s commands must’ve been pounding in his head, ordering him to back away. Which meant he was fighting it. But it wasn’t enough. Without control of his hands, he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
With my neck straining to reach Michio’s frozen mouth, I balanced on the edge of the wall by my bound legs, rolled my gaze to the aphids, and whispered, “Die.”
Hundreds of bodies exploded across the tarmac. Tiny particles of blood projected upward in a black mist, and the aroma of rot hit the air.
