Page 12 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

She hesitates, her eyes lingering on Daria for a moment longer, but she doesn’t argue. Together, we step into the dimly lit corridor, leaving the throne room—and its twisted love story—behind.

We reach a T-junction in the dimly lit corridor, and I start to pull Quinn toward the dock whereSweet Charitywaits. But she digs her heels in, her small frame surprisingly stubborn.

“The flight attendants,” she says, her voice firm. “We can’t just leave them.”

I growl, low and guttural. “Quinn, we don’t have time for this. Every second we waste is another chance for more Reapers to show up.”

“They’re notjelly car,” she snaps, her blue eyes blazing. “They didn’t ask for this, and they sure as hell don’t want to stay here.”

“Jalshagar,” I correct her, my voice sharp. “And I don’t care what they asked for. The Precursors have their own plans, and I’m not about to mess with them.”

“Please,” she says, her voice softening. Her hand grabs my arm, and her fingers are warm against my scales. “They want out of here, trust me.”

I look down at her, and something in my chest twists. Her eyes are pleading, but there’s steel in them too. She’s not backing down. I grit my teeth. Damn her for being so stubborn. Damn her for making me care.

“Fine,” I growl. “But with one caveat.”

Her brow furrows. She releases my arm and takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s that?”

“You move much too slowly.”

Before she can protest, I bend down and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder like a sack of groceries. She yelps, her hands flailing as she tries to grab onto something for balance. “Varnok! Put me down!”

“No can do, Ambassador,” I say, my voice smug. Her squirming nearly sends her tumbling, and I slap a hand onto her backside to hold her in place. Her ass is firm and round under my palm, and I t enjoy the feel of it. Not that I’d ever admit it. I’m just keeping her safe. That’s all.

“You didnotjust spank me!” she shouts, her voice rising an octave.

“No, I didn’t,” I lie, my tone matter-of-fact. “I’m just making sure you don’t fall. Now hold still.”

She mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously likebarbarian, but she stops squirming. I adjust my grip and start moving, my boots thudding against the metal floor. The sooner we find her flight crew, the sooner we can get out of here.

And the sooner I can get Quinn off my shoulder—and out of my head.

I set Quinn down gently,her feet barely touching the ground before she wobbles. She glares at me, her blue eyes sharp despite the blood still smeared across her face. “I can walk, you know,” she snaps, brushing herself off like I’ve just insulted her entire lineage.

“Sure you can,” I grunt, not bothering to argue. I turn to the cage where Clara’s still locked up, her face pressed against the bars. She’s got that look humans get when they’re trying to decide if they’re about to be rescued or eaten. Spoiler: it’s the first one.

“You’re late,” Clara says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I was busy,” I shoot back, grabbing the cage door and yanking it open with a screech of metal. “Where’s T’vek?”

Clara steps out, stretching her arms like she’s just been cooped up in a luxury suite instead of a livestock cage. “One of the Reapers took her down that way.” She points to a dimly lit corridor. “She didn’t look too upset about it, though.”

I groan. Of course she didn’t. T’vek’s always been a little too eager for her own good. I pull out my comm and hit the button. “Gas, get the ship ready. We’re leaving soon.”

“Already on it, boss,” Gas’s voice crackles back. “Weapons are online, engines are warm, and I’ve got a fresh batch of glitter for the next time Dowron calls.”

“Great,” I mutter, cutting the comm. I glance at Quinn and Clara. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Like hell,” Quinn says, stepping forward. “I’m not sitting around while you?—”

I cut her off with a look. “You’re in no shape to fight, Ambassador. Stay. Here.”

She glares at me but doesn’t argue. Good. I don’t have time for her stubbornness right now. I head down the corridor, my power blade humming in my hand. The air smells like rust and sweat, and the walls are lined with scratches and scorch marks. Typical Reaper decor.

I hear voices up ahead, one raspy and low, the other… amused? I slow my steps, pressing myself against the wall as I peek around the corner. There’s T’vek, chained to a wall, her red scales gleaming in the dim light. A Reaper guard looms over her, his bone spurs glinting like knives.

“You are mine now, Vakutan,” the Reaper growls, his voice like gravel in a blender.

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