Page 1 of Protected By the Alien Bodyguard

Chapter

One

JARAZ

The moment I enter the room, I'm in trouble. It's not just because of the black-market merchant smirking at me, his pleasure in seeing me all too apparent.

No, the real problem is the female.

Her scent hits me first, so powerful that it causes me to stagger. It's a warm, tantalizing aroma that strikes at the core of me, forming an instant addiction. In a situation when any weakness can be exploited, not being able to think straight—let alone stand straight!—is potentially deadly.

My eyes settle on her. She's completely unexpected. Her pale skin presents a stark contrast to my deep ruby-red complexion. She meets my gaze with an intense glare, and I find myself captivated by the striking green of her eyes. My kin, the Volscians, all share dark eyes, but she's so different, so exotic… Her uniqueness triggers an unfamiliar yet intense desire to be near her. This is surprising, given that I've been in close range to numerous females during my stint as a royal family bodyguard.

The merchant interrupts my distraction, smugly declaring, "Welcome, Jaraz. I'm so glad you've decided to do business with me," in a drawl, accompanied by a razor-sharp smile that screams, "I'm about to rip you off."

"Grum," I acknowledge the other male with a curt nod, mentally battling the temptation to breathe in the female's tantalizing scent. Her attire covers most of her body, yet the lack of exposure makes her all the more alluring.

The Nakar reclines in his chair, attempting to feign relaxation but failing miserably. The tense muscles in his abdomen are visible through his dark, skin-tight bio-suit. Much to his disadvantage—and mine—these suits leave little to the imagination, revealing that he's not a male accustomed to physical labor. The primary purpose of these suits is their durability and the self-cleaning features—a necessary feature in space living where some can treat personal hygiene as an afterthought on long hauls.

"You're here for an ID chip, and obviously, I'm the best dealer on the space station. My chips are untraced, unlike that *beeping* Harkcana's work," Grum swears, the curse caught and sanitized by my audio translator implant because, Lord forbid, I hear a naughty word. As an adult who has experienced war and countless other horrors, I find the censorship pointless. It's not like the loud beeps themselves aren't sending me deaf anyway.

"The price is three thousand credits."

"What? We agreed to one thousand over comms!" I blurt out, sucking in a deep breath. Big mistake. Her scent permeates my lungs. My tail sways restlessly by my feet, and it takes a conscious effort not to let it wander in her direction.

I shift my glance to the female in the corner. She's seated on a floor pillow, her knees drawn up to her chin. She hasn't taken her eyes off me for a moment, which could be flattering... or is it just strategic surveillance? Clever girl... or manipulative spy, who can say?

Grum absentmindedly strokes the green scales on his scalp, his black-tipped claws rasping against them in a way that makes my skin crawl almost as much as his prices. The large fin running down the center of his head is agitated, flitting up and down. It's strange to see the male so anxious. One would think that a black market merchant would be more adept at masking his emotions.

"Do you fancy her?" Grum asks, noticing how my attention has drifted. "I acquired her as an exotic pet in a trade deal with a Drakoon quite some time ago."

With a dismissive wave, Grum signals the female. I notice a collar around her neck. She quickly stands and scurries to his side. I stifle a growl in my chest.

"Don’t be fooled," Grum advises with a smug smile that I wish to wipe off his face. "This species may resemble yours, but they aren't particularly intelligent. The creature can barely be trained to use basic sanitary facilities! Plus, her diet is a major expense. She can only consume NutriSynth food, not livestock pellets. You undoubtedly know how costly the replacement cartridges are."

Inwardly, I disagree. NutriSynth is a staple on any space journey and stocked on almost all spacecrafts, transforming powdered nutrients into a food-like product. It's convenient since perishables spoil quickly and turn into biohazardous challenges seemingly overnight.

"Since you're interested in her, I'll include her for an additional two-thousand credits," Grum says.

I recoil.

"So, you'd trade a sentient being for less than the cost of a new identity?" I ask, hiding my anger.

"What? She's useless for breeding! Unless you like that sort of thing," Grum says salaciously, raising an eye-ridge suggestively.

While the female piques my curiosity in a "gawk at the endangered species" kind of way, her presence isn't the reason for my visit today. I require the ID chip to cross the Galactic Federation's borders seamlessly. Only then can I rendezvous with my Prince, the very male I am meant to be guarding—half the time from himself.

"We agreed on one thousand credits," I reply.

Grum grunts. "The price has gone up to three thousand. Five thousand to include the pet."

I glare at him. I anticipated some form of deception from this hustler—it's pretty much his personal brand. An additional two thousand credits is just insane. For that sum, I could hire a pirate to transport me across the border, albeit the journey would be perilous and uncomfortable smashed between their dubious cargo and two-month-old ration packs.

Grum maintains eye contact, his crest beginning to rise, each spike revealing its brilliant green hue. Something is off. He is too jittery.

"What have you done?" I ask.

The spark of surprise in his eyes validates my suspicion. The female subtly adjusts her stance as though fearing a sudden outburst from me, inadvertently capturing her in the ensuing chaos. Despite her diminished intelligence according to Grum's definitely unbiased opinion, she demonstrates exemplary survival instincts, a characteristic surprisingly rare among the males I've encountered throughout my life. Most of them wouldn't know what to do if a plasma detonator was strapped to their tails.

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