Free Breathing Vapor by Cynthia Sax Page B

eating her alive, and she knew he wouldn’t believe her. That hadn’t mattered. She had talked and now, others were paying for her mistake.
    Unable to deal with the consequences of what she’d done, she remained still, feigning unconsciousness. She was safe. Her body was safely tucked under Vapor’s, hidden from the worlds.
    The scent of smoke and fuel singed her nostrils. Liquid dripped, dripped, dripped on the stone tiles by her face. Each droplet fell as if in slow motion. She suspected the substance was blood.
    It wasn’t hers. It must be her cyborg’s.
    Vapor’s breath blew over her hair. His chest rose and fell. He was alive.
    For now. She heard a rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire, barely audible through the rush of sound in her ears.
    Cyborgs were tough but they could be killed, especially big, hunky cyborgs lying flat, making themselves as large as possible to protect their human females.
    “Vapor.” She wiggled.
    “Stay where you are.” His voice was low and rough. “Thrasher is clearing the first wave of insurgents and then we’ll move.”
    Why wasn’t he helping his friend? Panic coursed through her. “Are you hurt?”
    “My injuries are minor.”
    Minor. Mira relaxed. She could deal with minor. “Shouldn’t you be fighting?”
    Vapor shifted over her. “Our mission is to protect you. I’m protecting you.”
    “But—”
    “Don’t question me, foolish female. You’ve already put all three of us at risk with your recklessness. Remain quiet and still and allow us complete our mission.”
    His anger was justified. Mira’s body trembled. This was all her fault.
    She had caused her mom’s death by telling Lydna about their secret meeting place and she’d caused this disaster by telling Vapor about her mom. How many more beings had to die before she learned to keep her big mouth shut?
    “Hush.” Vapor kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. We’ll survive. The humanoids aren’t skilled fighters. Thrasher can subdue them.”
    The gunfire stopped, replaced by wailing, the sound of hundreds of beings in pain. Vapor braced his body upward.
    Mira turned her head and met the blank gaze of a blonde female.
    Memories flooded her brain, mixing the past with the present, and, in that one heart-stopping moment, she was a little girl again, kneeling on the cold, hard floor, pulling frantically on her mom’s hand, begging her to speak, to say anything. Her mom hadn’t responded. She was already gone, her body an empty shell. Her eyes, once filled with life, with laughter, with love, were flat and soulless.
    They haunted Mira every rest cycle. This female’s eyes would also. She struggled to put a name to the beautiful face. Kay…Kim…Kimya. That was it—Kimya.
    She was a young socialite. This had been a date night for her and her husband. They had two small offspring whom they left in the care of her parents. The parents lived three districts away. Hopefully they would be safe from harm.
    From physical harm. They’d suffer from emotional harm. Their mom wouldn’t be returning to them, wouldn’t ever hold them, kiss them, tell them they were loved.
    Crimson stained Kimya’s chin. Her body was shredded, her limbs posed at impossible angles. A hand, not connected to her, was curved around a broken beverage container. Jewels decorated the pale lifeless fingers.
    “I killed her,” Mira whispered.
    “You didn’t kill her.” Vapor pushed himself to his feet, grunting with the effort.
    Moments ago, beings had been smiling, laughing, reveling in their position at the top of the social hierarchy. Now, everywhere Mira looked she saw devastation, bodies, destruction, gore.
    “I did this.” Her head spun. Her stomach heaved.
    “You didn’t do this.” He bundled her into his arms, losing his chest covering in the process, and pushed her face against his chest. “Don’t look. This is my world, not yours.”
    This was her world. She had destroyed it. Mira inhaled Vapor’s scent, a