As the Cog Turns: Mecha Origin, #2

By Eve Langlais

Wulff's cogs are in a jam because of Ursy, his best friend's little sister. Only she's not so young and bratty anymore. And she's got a nice set of gears.

However, Wulff has no intentions of stealing her upgrades. Nor is he interested in bedding her, even if she makes his parts steam. He really should stay away, and yet he enlists her aid in tracking down a treasure.

A mission that's going fine until the kiss.

Now, he can't help seeing her in a new light, but Ursy isn't interested in a relationship, even as she invites him to her bed.

Problem is he wants more than just a temporary meshing of their parts. He won't settle for anything less than her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve Langlais
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781773840864

Eve Langlais

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Eve Langlais is a Canadian mom of three who loves to write hot romance. Her twisted imagination and sarcastic sense of humor tend to heavily influence her stories with giggle worthy results. As one of the authors in the Growl anthology, you can be treated to her version of romance featuring a shapeshifter, because she just loves heroes that growl--and make a woman purr. To find out more about Eve please visit her website or find her on Facebook where she loves to interact with readers.

Book preview

Prologue

In a different universe, many galaxies away, there exists a race of beings, bipedal in motion, possessed of two eyes, ears, arms, and legs.

Despite the distance between Earth and the Siyborgh home planet, there is a strong resemblance to those called humans, except for one crucial thing. By the time a Siyborgh has reached their twentieth year of existence, they receive their first gear, thus beginning their evolution and relationship with a symbiotic metal called latmevilium. Extremely rare, the living metal imbues its hosts with advantages: improved repairability of biological components, enhanced cognition or strength, even longevity, depending on the upgrade.

Metal and flesh joined together to transcend the bounds of their existence.

The Siyborgh weren’t always the chosen disciples of the Mecha Gods. It was only upon exploring their own world—delving deep into the ground in search of salvation on a planet almost destroyed—that they happened to excavate an ancient temple. Inside were so many wonders, including the first treasure trove of gears made of the latmevilium.

Those holy gears were long ago dispersed, and now only the tech priests received permission to enter that most holy of temples. Within, the largest gear in creation remained set within a temple wall, and so long as it turned, their world, their race, would be safe.

Should it ever stop though…

Given its importance, the giant gear was tended by the tech priests and acolytes, but the majority of the Siyborgh only worshipped the godly mechanism from afar, choosing to follow their religion by seeking out more of the mighty cogs and gears. Only by replacing flesh with metal could they transform and be brought closer to their gods.

But not all gears were made equal. The purity of the latmevilium counted. Mix any other metal with it and the attributes diminished. Melt it too many times and the sentient latmevilium died.

Because of the metal’s delicate nature, a new class of worshippers emerged. The Tinqqers were capable of actually shaping the living metal, creating intricate mechanical pieces to bring flesh closer to god-like status.

How did the Tinqqers know how to shape it? No one knew the actual answer, just rumors that claimed the Tinqqers spoke to the Mecha deities directly. It was said Marius Snype was a favorite of the gods. The most blessed of all the acolytes. Master Tinqqer Marius was given the plans to build the greatest set of cogs ever seen, requiring an intricate blend of the latmevilium into the many mecha pieces that would result in something that came to be known as The God Gear.

Fearing its incredible power, the Tinqqer had the pieces of it scattered lest it fall into the wrong hands.

And in doing so, he created the greatest quest of all time for the Siyborgh.

None could resist the ultimate prize. After all, the Mecha Bible clearly stated, Always seek an upgrade. Only when the metal overtakes the biological can true enlightenment be achieved. So said the first mecha prophet, Jool Ius’verrn.

1

In the beginning, the Siyborgh were simple people, barely better than a beast. Organic in nature. Fragile of flesh and spirit. Unmodified and lacking. Then the Mecha Gods smiled upon us and we discovered the first gear. – The Mighty Mecha Bible

Wulff crept quietly through the underbrush, doing his best to breathe softly and not crush anything crunchy that might give his location away. He wore soft-soled shoes, which gripped the ground to give him superior purchase. His clothes clung snugly to his frame so as to avoid getting tangled.

Every advantage counted.

The prize he sought lay just ahead. Almost within reach. He could see it between the branches, the golden gleam of the trophy ring sitting atop a plain stone pedestal. Probably surrounded by traps. He’d have to step carefully.

With his destination in sight, Wulff inched closer, pausing when he brushed against a leaf that fluttered. Barely noticeable to the naked eye and yet glaringly obvious through the lenses of his goggles, the motion appearing stark blue in the gray and white landscape. The question being, did anyone else notice?

The leaf stilled and returned to its dull-colored state. At least the lenses worked. He’d bargained hard for them, using the bits of latmevilium metal he’d scrounged. Valuable beyond compare and hard to find in the wild, the biggest piece being on slightly larger than the tip of his finger. Barely enough to survive on, just ask his threadbare shirt, but he’d not yet resorted to stealing.

But at times, when his stomach rumbled, he thought about it. It would be nice to not worry about where his next meal would come from or where he’d sleep. He couldn’t keep spending the night at Zak’s. While his best friend, and his parents, didn’t seem to mind, Wulff’s pride had a problem with it.

Real Siyborghs didn’t take charity; they provided it.

Didn’t matter he’d not yet reached the age that he could take his first gear or cogs. Wulff had a strong sense of what kind of male he’d become.

A winner.

Which was why he crept past the edge of cover onto the deceptively smooth ground. The interlocked stone appeared perfect, all the lines straight. The tiles were laid evenly, none raised higher than the other. But he’d wager a few were just waiting for the subtle weight of a foot to spring their trap.

How to tell which were the deadly squares?

Throw me over to the pedestal and I’ll grab it. We can share the win.

The whisper startled him, as he’d never suspected anyone at his back. Glancing over his shoulder, Wulff scowled at the freckled face smiling in eagerness.

Go away, he snapped in a low tone. Why did you follow me?

I didn’t follow you. An obvious lie. Ursy was always tagging at his heels. Zak’s little sister just couldn’t leave any of them alone, especially Wulff. It was as if she delighted in torturing him at every turn.

Stay back. This is my prize. He wasn’t about to share the glory.

Only if you get to it first.

Before he could grasp her intent, she sprinted past him, a lithe shape with a fat braid bouncing down her back.

Oh no you don’t. He threw a foot forward to chase then another, hitting the paved stone hard.

Click.

The tile underneath his foot sank, just a hint but enough to trigger a trap.

Frukx me, he cursed even as he threw himself down and to the side.

Just in time as a log, spiked with sharp tines, came swinging from the forest. He scrabbled away from its pendulum swing and heard yells.

A sharp glance ahead showed Zak emerging from the far side of the clearing, running in a zigzag for the prize while Ursy had hit a trap and balanced on the edge of an abyss.

He still had a chance. Wulff rose to his feet and ran, ignoring the rumble underfoot, eyes on the prize ahead.

Swinging from the forest was Jwls, arm wrapped around a rope, his grin wide. His eyes wider as a drone appeared out of nowhere and fired on him.

Jwls would have to manage. Just like Ray, arm on fire as flames shot up from the ground, would have to drop and roll without his help. Wulff kept his eyes on the prize.

A few paces away from the pedestal, several rows of tiles dropped, forming a dark ditch, but Wulff was already airborne, pushing off with his strong adolescent legs, reaching for the golden ring—It’s mine. I’ve got it. I—

He watched it get snatched by a soaring Ursy, who clutched it to her chest as she landed on the other side, crowing, I win!

Instantly, the simulation shut down, the game having reached its conclusion to more than a few groans.

Who invited her? Ray complained.

Zak raised his hands. Don’t look at me. You all know I would never invite my sister to play.

Because she always seemed to beat them. And then wouldn’t stay quiet about it.

You’re just all jealous that I’m better than you, Ursy hotly retorted, pointing her nose in the air.

She was following Wulff again, Jwls remarked, jerking a thumb in his direction.

I didn’t ask her to. He couldn’t help but scowl.

Didn’t have to. Everyone knows Ursy tags along because she has a crush on Wulff. This time Ray tossed the barb.

Do not, she exclaimed, tone full of indignation.

Nasty, Wulff added. She’s practically a sister to me. And one did not lust after a sibling. That kind of thing was forbidden and just wrong. Besides, who’d eye her with romantic intent?

At only fourteen revolutions of the giant world cog, Ursy remained scrawny, without any curves to draw the eye. She might be the same age as Zak—minus a few ticks of a gear—but her body remain undeveloped compared to some of the other females their age.

Not to mention she was annoying.

Especially when she offered him the ring—made of a dull, cheap metal without any of the glamor from the game they played—and said, If you’re going to be a baby about it, then take it.

He scowled. I don’t want anything from you.

Ursy arched a brow. Remember that you said that because, one day, I bet you change your mind. And when you do, I’ll be the one saying no.

As if that would ever happen. I’ll never need you.

As if to taunt him with his words, fate tossed them back at Wulff many, many turns of the gear later.

2

The Mecha Gods might be long gone, but their legacy was left behind in the form of gears and cogs. Only the most worthy may wear them, for to take the mechanism unto oneself brings one closer to the gods. – The Mighty Mecha Bible

Thump. The impact shuddered the floor under his feet. Already braced, Wulff kept his balance but couldn’t help a shake of his head. Let me fly. he insisted, losing patience at his relegation to the status of passenger in the cockpit of the Unicorn Bandit—a stupid name. Ursy had won the ship in a game of chance and refused to change it, surely in a ploy to vex them all. Then, to add insult to injury, the zeppelin vessel with its enclosed lower body sported a pale pink inflatable balloon for coasting planetary winds.

He was pretty sure it had an effect on his masculinity. It might also explain why he grunted and scratched himself more often than usual.

You are not driving. Ursy didn’t even bother to look at him when she refused, leaving him to stare at the top of her head. She sported a much shorter style these days, the hair wisping and curling in all directions. It made him wonder how soft the silvery strands would feel to the touch.

To avoid the temptation—which would surely earn him a sucker-punch to the groin—he tucked his hands behind his back. Come on, share a little. I’m bored. I need something to do. Because he’d already fixed everything on board in need of a weld or an upgrade.

If you need suggestions, then how about scrubbing the latrine.

His lips pinched but not because of the suggestion. I already did. And might I say, you are disgusting. Turned out the seams in that room were supposed to be white, not brown.

Some of us have better things to do than worry about a bit of dirt.

Speaking of worry, you haven’t slept in a full gear cycle. The time on board the ship was kept by a clock that ticked at the same rate as the mighty cog back home.

Ah, isn’t it sweet that you care. A sly glance over her shoulder gave a peek at a nose still freckled and a wide, familiar smirk. Yet those eyes, a clear blue, were now framed by ultra-thick lashes. And when did her lips become so plump and full?

I care because if you fall asleep while navigating through this minefield, we could die.

Don’t worry, Woofy, she said, facing forward again and employing her annoying nickname for him. I promise to get you to our destination alive.

Irritation sparked. Are you sure about that? he snapped. I have to wonder, given you seem intent on bouncing every single loose rock out there off the hull. If you’re too tired to pilot, then let someone who isn’t take the controls.

She whirled in her seat to offer him the full heat of her glare. Since she only had organic eyeballs, he didn’t sizzle on the spot. You’re annoying. And showing your male privilege.

That brought a roll to his eyes. What privilege? You’ve won just about every single event we ever competed in together. Which would have been emasculating if she didn’t kick the buttocks of every other male and female he knew, too.

Unlike many worlds, Siyborghs had long since come to an understanding that the sexes were different and that