Page 40 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

We exit through a service entrance, avoiding the main lobby where Kallus might have eyes watching. The Armstrong air feels crisp against my scales as we cross the landing pad where Sweet Charity waits, her engines already humming with pre-flight checks.

Gas meets us at the boarding ramp, his golden fur ruffled by the wind. "Got her all warmed up and ready to go, boss! Oh, and I fixed that thing with the environmental controls. No more random cold spots in the cargo bay."

"Good work," I grunt, ushering Quinn aboard first.

Once inside, Gas seals the hatch and scurries to the pilot's seat. "Coordinates?" he asks, his fingers dancing across the navigation console.

"Jwoon X," Quinn answers before I can speak.

Gas whistles. "Back to where it all started, huh? Setting course now."

I drop into the captain's chair, feeling the familiar contours embrace my frame. Quinn takes the seat beside me, her small form dwarfed by the Vakutan-sized chair.

"Superluminal jump in three... two... one..." Gas announces, and the stars outside the viewport stretch into brilliant lines as Sweet Charity leaps into faster-than-light travel.

With the immediate rush over, I turn to Quinn. "I guess you don't need a bodyguard anymore, now that the assignment is officially over." The words taste bitter in my mouth.

Quinn's eyes remain fixed on the streaking stars outside. "This Jwoon matter is far from over, Varnok. But you're right about one thing." She turns to face me. "I don't want you to be my bodyguard any longer."

Her words hit like a physical blow. After everything we've been through—the fighting, the dancing, the nights spent exploring each other's bodies—she's just cutting me loose?

"Why not?" I demand, my voice rising with indignation. "Did I not perform adequately? Was I not attentive enough to your safety?"

A smile plays at the corners of her lips. "Because," she says softly, "it would be awkward if my bodyguard turned out to be my jalshagar."

The word stops my hearts. Jalshagar. Two bodies with one soul. The most sacred bond a Vakutan can experience.

"What did you say?" I whisper, hardly daring to believe my ears.

"You heard me," Quinn says, her blue eyes meeting mine without wavering. "I've been doing some research. The connection we have... it's not normal, is it? The way we move together, think together. The way I can almost feel what you're feeling sometimes."

I surge forward, capturing her lips with mine in a kiss that contains all the fire and passion of my warrior heart. Sheresponds immediately, her small hands gripping my shoulders as she rises up to meet me.

"Oh, come on!" Gas groans from the pilot's seat. "You two need to be hosed down! There are perfectly good quarters below deck, you know!"

I break the kiss, but keep Quinn close, my forehead pressed against hers. "My jalshagar," I rumble, the word sacred on my tongue.

"Your jalshagar," she confirms with a smile that outshines the stars streaking past us.

The ship lurchesas we drop out of superluminal speed, and I instinctively reach out to steady Quinn. My jaw drops at the sight before us.

"By the seven moons of Vakuta," I breathe.

Jwoon X hangs like a green jewel in space, but it's the ships surrounding it that steal my attention. Hundreds—no, thousands—of Ataxian vessels form a protective sphere around the planet. The massive capital ships dwarf even the largest Alliance cruisers I've fought against, their distinctive flame-shaped hulls gleaming in the light of Jwoon's sun.

"No wonder Zantress was so relaxed," Quinn whispers, her face pale as she stares at the armada. "She had backup."

Gas's fingers fly across the control panel, his golden fur standing on end. "I'm counting at least thirty capital ships, over a hundred cruisers, and... sweet mother of mercy... thousands of star fighters." His voice cracks. "Boss, they could glass half the sector with that kind of firepower."

I slam my fist against the armrest of my chair, denting the metal. "That conniving little—" I cut myself off, remembering that Quinn respects the Solari leader. "She played us. Played everyone."

"But the Solari are pacifists," Quinn protests, though I can see doubt creeping into her eyes. "They wouldn't..."

"They wouldn't fight," I finish for her. "But apparently they're fine with others fighting for them."

Gas's ears flatten against his head. "What happens when the Alliance fleet gets here to enforce the Writ?" he asks fearfully.

The answer is obvious, hanging between us like a blade about to fall.

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