Page 28 of My Big Alien Bodyguard

There’s a slight edge to his voice, and that worries me. The kind of sex we just had should never need to be followed up by reassurances. I was feeling absolutely protected and entirely belonging to him until he reminded me of all the wider implications of our dalliance.

We are not free to be together. We are not free in any way. We are owned, the both of us, in different ways.

I sit up, pulling the covers up to my armpits.

‘What have we done?” I am absolutely drenched in alien cum. I know we are being reckless, in many ways. “What we’re doingis wrong, and it’s against our contracts, which might be worse.” I look up at him. “They’re going to know. Everybody is going to know. And when everybody knows, Simon will know. And when Simon knows…”

“Let me worry about Simon,” Zayne says. “It’s not your job to worry anymore. It’s your job to do as I tell you, and nothing more. By the way, you are banned from all television, and all social media. You are not capable of healthily interacting with any of it. It drives your kind mad. You will no longer follow the whims of those who do not have your best interests at heart.”

“Does that include Simon?”

“It does not,” he says. “We have to tolerate Simon.”

Simon can’t tolerate me, so I suppose that puts us all in good stead. I’ll perform, I’ll fuck Zayne, and we’ll all live happily ever after. It’s all fine. Except for my aching ass. Zayne was not playing. He thrashed me properly. I think I will be sore for a very long time.

There’s a sudden knock at the door, followed by a call. “Room service!”

Pulling on his pants, Zayne gets up to open it. Room service sounds good. I could really do with something to eat. And maybe some ice for my ass. How nice of Zayne to think to order before he started whipping me from here to the next nebula. I watch his back ripple as he pulls his boots on. God he’s hot, and caring, and so damn nice.

My eyes don’t leave him for even a single second as he crosses the room. This whole place must stink of sex, given there’s no window to open because I cannot be trusted with windows anymore.

“What did you order?” Zayne asks the question.

I’m confused for a second, and that delays my answer. His hand is already turning the knob when I reply. “Nothing.”

I see his expression change, but it is too late. A grenade has been rolled through the partially open door and it is already churning smoke. In less than a second there is a large BANG and a bright flash. I am immediately blinded and deafened. I might be screaming, I don’t know. Anything could be happening.

My vision returns before my hearing does. I see what happens through a blur. There are three heavily armored and highly armed soldiers. They look human in shape but I can’t be entirely sure what they are because so much of their bodies are obscured by the heavy plates designed to keep them safe from the consequences of their actions.

They have weapons, laser weapons that are not designed to do anything besides kill. I don’t know if I am being kidnapped or what, but I see those weapons leveled at Zayne. One is discharged, a bright yellow bolt of laser energy hitting him in the midsection.

I scream and lunge forward, but I am helpless. I was at the back of the room, and all of this activity is happening at the front.

I can see the burn pattern spread across Zayne’s chest, and the leaking of his protective gel layer. He is wounded, but they have failed to calibrate their weapons to his strength, and he is far from down. That’s the first and last mistake they will get to make.

Zayne takes a deep breath and emits a plume of intense flame. Now there are armed soldiers on fire, which does not improve the situation as much as I might hope. They emit muffledscreams through their full face masks and flail around, trying to put themselves out as the flames stick to their attire and make it melt to their bodies. I smell burning rubber and flesh, and both of them are terrible, choking odors.

The flames are not enough to deal to the attackers completely. I watch in horror as Zayne rips the weapon from the hands of the nearest flaming attacker and proceeds to beat all three of them to the ground before stamping out the flames on their still burning bodies with his boot.

He grabs me without another word, grasping me around the waist and throwing me up over his shoulder. I hear a squelch as we leave over the bodies, Zayne stepping on them as if they are less than dirt.

He has pulled a bag from the closet near the door, and is going through it, using his tail to steady me over his shoulder as he pulls a radio out and starts issuing commands in a language I absolutely do not speak. I’m surprised how calm he sounds. I am panting and shrieking, and there are tears running down my cheeks. I shake with shock as Zayne responds to that explosion of violence with no signs of concern. He has a plan in place, and he executes that plan like the professional he is.

Zayne

I have been growing steadily uncomfortable since we arrived here, but I never thought anybody would be so stupid as to try a full-on assault. Of all the times they could have tried it, they picked a good one. We were trapped in a room with only one entrance and one exit. By all rights, we should both be dead right now, or perhaps one of us dead, one of us kidnapped.

My chest hurts like hell, but I am more concerned with getting Lyric to safety. I hit the stairwell and move down it as fast as I can, heading for the basement where there will either be more armed soldiers, or the vehicle I have set aside for transport will be waiting.

The hovercar is where I left it. It can’t escape the atmosphere, but it can go anywhere on this planetoid. I have never, ever had to take these kind of evasive maneuvers with a starlet before. Most of my job previous to this one was simply keeping creeps away from the girls. I have never in all my years as a bodyguard encountered so much violence.

I bundle Lyric into the passenger seat. She is still entirely naked, and shivering. I hit the warmers in the hovercar in the attempt to warm her up, then I hit the launchers and we swing out of the hotel, up into the air and make for the hills.

“You’re okay,” I tell her. “We’re okay.”

“You’re not okay! You’re bleeding goop!”

“It’s a surface wound. It looks bad, but it will self-heal. Don’t worry.”

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