1. Dark Angel Part 8


    Date: 7/1/2017, Categories: Fantasy & Sci-Fi, Author: Levanahyll, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    said. “Not much of me is human anymore.” “Who are you? Why am I here?” She winced when the feather-light touch stroked her cheek again, and turned away trying to avoid his touch “I am no one,” the voice rasped, deep and demonic, giving her the chills, but not in a good way. Anniel curled her feet beneath her butt when the bed she sat on dipped with his weight. She would have scooted farther away, but her back was wedged into a corner. “Where am I?” she demanded reaching back to feel that it was a metal grate and not a wall she leaned against. “King Dred wanted to defile you. You are safe now.” She slapped away what she assumed were his hands and yelped at the pain that caused. His skeleton was made of some sort of metal. “I don’t feel so safe with you touching me,” she snapped. When he tried to take her hands, she pulled them away and crossed her arms over her chest, scowling to show her displeasure. His arms rose, bringing his hands to his face. She narrowed her useless eyes and blinked to see if she could figure out what he was doing. When he removed his goggles and respirator, she wished she could see better. “Kiss me,” his deep voice rasped. “Go to hell,” Anniel spat, smacking her head against the grate behind her, trying in vain to put as much space between her and the cyborg as possible. “Neo,” a feminine voice shouted from behind her. Boots stomped closer. “You said you felt no desire of the flesh.” The female sounded enraged. “I do not,” he answered getting up ...
    again. “I heard you asking this bitch for a kiss,” the female shouted venomously. Anniel opened her mouth to protest, but a vicious snarl had her gasping with a start. It came from the cyborg in front of her. “Get out,” the male grated. The sound of objects crashing to the ground had Anniel’s heart in her throat. A door slammed, the sound reverberating in the room. From the sound, she surmised she was in a large, sparsely furnished room. Blinking up at her captor, she saw the shadow of his one wing and the glare of his metallic one, but she still couldn’t make out the features of his face. He bent toward her and she shrieked when he seized her beneath her arms to pick her up. Anniel kicked at him, immediately regretting her action when her bare feet connected with more metal. She cursed roundly when her big toe began to throb. Cyneolle, she supposed it was, sat her unceremoniously on a flat surface, and she soon found her mouth stuffed with a small, square, foul-tasting object. Anniel yanked the horrible thing from her mouth and poised to throw it in his face. “Son-of-a...“ She stopped, sputtering. “Did you just stuff soap in my mouth?” “Soap helps wash out dirty little mouths. Now say something nice.” Anniel stared dumbfound. The soap fell from her numb fingers as she looked up into the grey shadow before her. She’d overheard Gareth say a swear word once and had put a little bar of soap in his mouth. She’d told him the exact words Cyneolle had said when he’d protested. Her hands ...
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