Page 13 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

T’vek smirks, her golden eyes sparkling. “Oh no,” she says, her tone dripping with mock distress. “I’m all chained up and helpless. You can do anything you want to me.”

I roll my eyes. Of course. I step into the room, my power blade slicing through the air with a hiss.

The Reaper’s eyes go wide as I plant my boot in his ribs, sending him sprawling into the wall. His bone spurs scrape against the metal, but before he can recover, I’m on him. My power blade hisses through the air, the plasma beam slicing through the chain holding T’vek in place.

She drops to the floor with a huff, dusting herself off like she’s just been inconvenienced by a minor delay in her day.

“You could’ve waited about five more minutes before you rescued me,” she says, glaring at me like I’ve just ruined her favorite holovid.

I grunt, slicing through the rest of the chains with a flick of my wrist. “Next time, I’ll check your schedule before saving your scales, T’vek.”

She smirks, her golden eyes glinting with mischief. “Promises, promises.”

I roll my eyes and grab her arm, hauling her to her feet. “Let’s go. We’ve got a ship to catch.”

We make our way back to Clara and Quinn, who are waiting by the throne room. Clara’s pacing, her arms crossed over her chest, while Quinn’s perched on the edge of Reku’s throne, looking like she’s seriously considering burning it down just for the hell of it.

“What took you so long?” Clara snaps as soon as we’re in earshot. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Had to stop for tea,” I deadpan, earning a snort from T’vek.

Quinn stands, wobbling slightly, and I instinctively reach out to steady her. Her skin is warm under my hand, and I feel a jolt of something I haven’t felt in a long time. I pull back quickly, clearing my throat. “Let’s move.”

The journey back toSweet Charityis uneventful, but Quinn’s quiet the whole way. Her blue eyes are distant, like she’s lost in thought, and every now and then, she glances at me like she’s trying to figure me out.

We reach the ship, and Gas is waiting at the ramp, his golden fur glinting in the dim light. “Took you long enough,” he says, his voice cheerful despite the chaos. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“I just heard that you unoriginal bastard," I mutter, ushering the women onboard.

As I check the ship’s systems, I glance over at Quinn. She’s leaning against the bulkhead, her arms crossed, watching me with those piercing blue eyes. There’s a spark in them,something fierce and unyielding, and I feel my scales itch with something I can’t quite name.

Maybe this rescue op wasn’t so bad after all.

CHAPTER 7

QUINN

The bridge ofSweet Charitysmells faintly of burnt circuitry and old leather. The hum of the engines vibrates through the floor, a low thrum that matches the pounding in my temples. I press my fingers into my skull, the ache from Reku’s whip still sharp and insistent.

Var sprawls in the captain’s chair, his massive frame making the seat look like it belongs in a nursery. His purple eyes scan the console, claws clicking against the armrests. Beside him, Gas—a golden-furred Fratvoyan—navigates with the kind of casual ease that suggests he’s flown through worse than this asteroid belt.

“You should go below,” Var grumbles without looking at me. “Rest. You’re no use to anyone with that head of yours throbbing like a broken engine.”

“My place is on the bridge,” I snap, straightening despite the way my vision swims. “I’m on an official mission, or did you forget?”

He snorts and a snarl twitches over his lips. “Stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Gas snorts, his long snout twitching as he tries to stifle a laugh. Var’s head whips toward him, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“You think this is funny, Gaspard?”

Gas shrugs, his furry shoulders bouncing. “Well… kinda? Yeah.”

Var growls low in his throat, but before he can unleash whatever scaly tirade he’s brewing, an alert chimes on the console. My head jerks up, the pain momentarily forgotten.

“Is it General Dowron?” I ask, leaning forward.

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