by Luna Hunter
My new bodyguard? A possessive, dangerous alien warrior who wants to claim me as his prize. Oh boy.
Decades have passed since the Tyk’ix destroyed the Zoran homeworld. The fierce, sexy alien warriors have found refuge on Earth, but adjusting to this new reality has not been easy for either species.
Sarah Granger wants nothing to do with the aliens — her father died protecting the Zoran, and she’s yet to forgive them. When the Human Federation plans a mission into deep space to find a new home for the alien warriors, she volunteers, and to her own surprise, the curvy scientist gets the job! She couldn’t be happier. Until, moments before launch, the Federation assigns her a bodyguard. And not just anyone: The most dangerous, arrogant Zoran warrior imaginable, who won’t leave her alone for even a second.
Kazim has never seen his homeworld. The alien warrior grew up an orphan on the streets of Boston with nothing to his name except his fists and his indomitable will. The blue-skinned Zoran is the undefeated boxing champion of the Boston underworld — until the local kingpin asks him to take a dive. Instead, Kazim knocks his human opponent out so hard it kills him, and now the entire mob is out for his blood.
The wanted alien warrior needs to lay low for a while, and using his connections, manages to hitch a ride on a human ship heading into deep space. All he has to do is protect Sarah Granger from harm. An easy job for a warrior as tall and strong as him… Until he sees her and he realizes in an instant that he’s found his fated mate.
Resisting his urge to claim her is the hardest battle the alien warrior has ever fought.
1. Kazim
“And in the left corner, representing Zoran-kind everywhere, it’s the blue giant, the unstoppable one: Kazim the Destroyer!”
The crowd — all human — jeers, cursing my name. Their faces are contorted with rage. Good. Go ahead. Hate me. It only makes me stronger.
“And in the right corner, representing mankind, it’s the one, the only, Michael Cormack AKA the Machine!”
The puny human in front of me is bouncing on his feet, his fists raised, shielding his face from me. He jabs the air, his punches as quick as lightning. It doesn’t matter. It won’t save him. Even the strongest, quickest human is no match for me.
“Fight!”
The bell rings and the crowd roars. There’s thousands of them, all of whom have been paid good money to watch a human beat up a Zoran.
Unfortunately for them, I don’t play by those rules.
My opponent rushes forwards and tries to get the first punch in. I lean back and dodge it easily. And the next one. And the next one. I walk around the ring, evading his every blow. His muscles bulge as he throws all his strength into ever jab, but all he hits is air. His face is contorted with anger, rage, and a hint of fear.
I smirk at him.
You got inside the ring with me, boy. What happens next is on you.
I punch him in the stomach the moment he lets his guard down, and the human doubles over in pain, his scream filling the entire arena.
The crowd falls silent for a moment before exploding in a fit of rage. This is not what they came here to see, and they make this crystal clear to me.
“Go back to where you came from, you blue freak!”
“Fuck you Kazim!”
“Zorans go home!”
I look into the crowd and spread my arms wide, letting all their hate flow into me. In the front row I see the promotor, Callum McGregor, giving me the evil eye. He’s the kingpin here in Neo-Boston, one of the most dangerous men around.
Except for me.
He traces his finger past his neck, and the message is clear.
Go down in the second round or you’re dead.
I never planned on living forever.
The bell rings and the first round comes to an end. I’ve barely broken a sweat, and there’s not a scratch on me. I grab a bucket of water on my side of the ring and throw it over my face, letting the cool drops slide down my broad, naked, deep-blue chest.
I wink at a human female sitting in the front row, and she instantly turns as red as beet — and her boyfriend looks like he wants to come up and fight me.
He’s welcome to try if he has a death wish.
“Round two! Fight!”
Cormack rushes me from behind, his punch grazing my chin. Unsportsmanlike. I retaliate instantly, my fist connecting with his nose. I can feel the bones shattering under the pressure of my punch. His face explodes with blood, the red stuff gushing down his chin.
My opponent looks surprised, shocked and filled with hatred.
“You’re supposed to go down,” he spits, with blood on his lips.
I push my shoulders back. “Make me, human.”
“Alien bastard,” he says. “You should have died on Exon Prime with the rest of your kind.”
That’s the drop that makes the bucket run over. I can’t let that slide. My vision turns red and I feel blind rage taking over — and I welcome it. First I punch the human in the stomach, making him hunch over, and then I hit him with an uppercut, throwing all the strength I have into that punch.
Cormack flies through the air.
The arena turns silent.
He hits the ground with a thud. He doesn’t move.
I raise my hands up in the air. Victory!
The crowd explodes, pelting me with bottles, coins, lighters, anything they can get their hands on. It all bounces off me harmlessly. I laugh. I laugh in the face of their hatred, of their rage. They can’t handle the fact that I’m simply better.
Two Zoran step into the ring, and I recognize their obsidian black uniforms and the symbol of Exon pinned to their chests. Why is the High Command slumming it here in Neo-Boston?
“Come,” the one on the right growls.
It’s not a question.
“Goddamnit, Kazim. God fucking damn it. In Zora’s name, what the fuck were you thinking?! Taking on a contract for Callum fucking McGregor — and then fucking him over?! What the hell were you thinking?! Oh, don’t tell, me, you weren’t thinking, were you?!”
I gaze up into the rage-contorted face of General Burak, who is towering over me in my dressing room. He’s a big shot in the High Command, with his mauve skin, his fancy obsidian armor and the many medals pinned to his chest, but I simply know him as Uncle Burak.
And I hate him.
His two goons are standing outside, keeping McGregor and the angry crowd at bay. I remove the wrap from my fists while avoiding the general’s scolding gaze. I hit that human so hard my knuckles are bleeding.
“With all due respect, sir… fuck you.”
General Burak strikes me with an open hand. He’s much faster than Cormack ever was. I can’t evade this blow.
“Don’t talk to me like that, boy.”
“I’m not your boy anymore,” I spit. “I never was.”
“You ungrateful piece of shit. I took you in when your parents died, treated you like you were my own son, and this is how you repay me? Bare knuckle boxing? If only your father could see you now.”
“Don’t you dare speak his name,” I growl.
“Or what? You’re going to kill me too? You know you killed that human, right? You broke his fucking neck, Kazim.”
I straighten my back, my lips pulled into a tight line. Perhaps I ought to feel remorse or regret… but in truth, I don’t feel a fucking thing.
“He got in the ring with me. He knew what he signed up for.”
“And he paid the ultimate price,” Burak spits. “Not only have you fucked over McGregor, but all of Neo-Boston is out for your blood, now that you’ve killed their golden boy.”
“So what?” I shrug. “Let them come.”
“You don’t understand, do you? The world is bigger than just you, Kazim. What you just did is not only for bad for your personal health and safety, but it’s bad for Zorans everywhere. You know what the headlines are going to be tomorrow, right? Zoran murders human. Plastered all over the holo-web, all over this globe. You’re
making life harder for everyone.”
“How would you know?” I sneer. “You’re up in your flotilla, with the rest of the High Command. You don’t have a clue what it’s like down here on Earth.”
Burak raises his hand to strike again, but then he sighs, his yellow eyes filled with sadness and regret.
“I’ve failed you, Kazim.”
“It’s too late for apologies.”
“But it’s not too late for you. You can still make something of yourself. That’s why I’m assigning you to the HF Spearhead.”
“I don’t want your charity,” I say as I stand up, pressing my forehead against the general’s. “Fuck off.”
He grabs my shoulders and pushes me back down.
“You sit down and you listen,” he growls, the fire returning to his voice. “You don’t have a choice. You stay here and you’ll die, you understand? That mob wants your blood. You’re not as invincible as you think you are. I made a promise to your father that I’d keep you safe, and I’m staying true to my word, even if you’re making it damn hard to do so. The HF Spearhead is a reconnaissance vessel, the first of its kind. It’ll go into deep space to find a suitable planet for us Zorans. And you’re going along with them. Some time far, far away from Earth will do you some good.”
“The Exodus?” I growl. “It’s real?! I thought it was a myth.”
“It’s real,” Burak answers, “in-so-far as we’ve located some promising planets. There’s no exodus. Not yet. But, you can help us find a new home for us Zorans.”
“What am I supposed to do on that ship? I’m not a pilot or a mechanic. All I know what to do is fight.”
The general grabs my naked shoulder and squeezes it. “You’re muscle, Kazim. They might need it out there in space. Do this. For me.”
“I’ll do it,” I say after mulling it over for a second. “But not for you. I’ll do it for my father.”
If I can do my part in finding a new home for us Zorans, I’ll make him proud. I can make sure that no Zoran will have to grow up without his parents again.
I just hope there’s something for me to do while I’m on that ship.
2. Sarah
This is it. In less than an hour’s time, I’ll be in outer space for months. I’ve been working towards this moment for years.
And now that it’s finally here, I’m scared out of my mind.
There’s so much I’ll miss! I won’t receive new episodes of Dancing with the Zoran out there in space. The on-board cafeteria doesn’t serve chocolate whipped cream. And of course, I’ll miss my mother most of all.
Luckily, I’ve got my teddy with me.
“Where do you want me put this?”
My train of thought is interrupted by my research assistant, Ava Payne, who’s carrying a big box of my stuff.
“Oh, just put that on my desk,” I tell her. “You don’t have to carry my things, Ava.”
“Nonsense,” she replies as she puts the box down. “You got me this sweet gig, so as far as I’m concerned, your wish is my command.”
In a few days’ time this room will be transformed into my office, my home away from home, but right now it’s just a scattered mess of unopened boxes.
“Want me to help you unpack?”
“No,” I tell her, “we’ve got plenty of time. It’ll be months before we reach our destination.”
“Of course you need help,” she insists as she opens the box. “You’re drowning in boxes.”
“N-no,” I stammer, but it’s too late.
“What’s this?” Ava asks as she fishes a pale grey stuffed animal out of the opened box.
I snatch it from her grasp.
“That’s Mr. Fluffles,” I say, my cheeks turning crimson. “And you keep those lips sealed.”
Ava tries not to laugh, but she does a poor job of it.
“The Sarah Granger has a teddy bear?”
“The Sarah Granger is just a human being,” I tell her. “Nothing more.”
“You’re too modest. You’re the only woman I know who has been published in Nature while still a teenager, who graduated cum laude when she was only 22! I mean, you’re the Spearhead’s chief scientist and we’re almost the same age!”
I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t take compliments very well. All I can think about are all the things I have yet to accomplish. Sure, I got good grades, but at the expense of a social life. When I see Ava in the mess hall, flirting with the soldiers, I can’t help but feel jealous of her natural charm.
Men are usually intimidated by my accolades, or uninterested in my curves. So I just pour more time into my studies, bury my nose in the books, perpetuating the cycle.
“Don’t speak a word on Mr. Fluffles,” I say, hugging the worn-out teddy bear close to my chest. “Or I’ll revoke your assistant status, and we’ll be forced to leave you on some alien planet.”
Ava fake-gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
“Probably not,” I say. “But don’t test me!”
“My lips are sealed,” she says. “May I ask why you still have a teddy, though?”
“You may not, but since you already have… it was a gift from my father.”
I look at the worn-out teddy bear. Well-loved, my mother would say. All the fur is gone, its left eye hanging on by a thread. Some may consider it hideous, but to me it’s beautiful.
“It’s all that I have left of him.”
I glance up to see Ava is tearing up.
“I’m sorry for mocking you. I didn’t know. I, I read an interview…” her voice trails off, her eyes avoiding mine.
“Ah, so you stalked me?”
“I did my research.”
“So you know what happened?”
“I know he’s no longer with us,” she answers softly.
“My father was a police officer who was killed in an anti-Zoran riot when I was five years old,” I say bluntly. I know that when I say it likes that it makes people uncomfortable, but I don’t care. The truth is uncomfortable.
“My condolences.”
“Thank you,” I answer. “He’s the reason I got into Alien Studies. All my life I’ve been trying to understand what can drive people to such violence.”
Ava bites her bottom lip. “Do you know the answer?”
“I do not.”
My com beeps, breaking the awkward silence.
“This is Captain Ferguson, please report to my office, over.”
“Duty calls,” I tell Ava as I place Mr. Fluffles on my desk.
“How do you like your new quarters, Dr. Graham?”
Donovan Ferguson, the pompous man elevated to the position of captain of the HF Spearhead, is staring at me from behind his over-sized desk. I get the distinct impression that he’s trying to compensate for something…
“It’s fine,” I answer.
“Fine? Not great?”
I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “They’re great, Donovan.”
“Please,” he says, “call me Captain. This is a military vessel, after all. I know you’re an academic so all of this is new to you, but there are certain protocols in place. You understand.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from sneering.
“I understand, Captain,” I grit through my teeth.
I don’t do protocol very well. For someone who majored in Alien Studies you’d think I could grasp human rules of conduct, but you’d be surprised.
“Good,” he says, rapping his fingers on his leather armrest. “Good good good.”
“May I ask why you called me here?” I ask. “…Sir,” I add after he frowns at me.
“Just trying to get to know my crew, that’s all,” he says. “We’ll be forced to rely on each other for months.”
I plan to stay as far away from Ferguson as possible, but seeing as he’s the captain, that might prove difficult. I don’t rely on anyone but myself. Then again, simply by being on this spaceship I’m putting my life in the hands of an army of engineers and mecha
nics. One simple mistake or miscalculation might prove fatal to us all… but that’s something I try not to think about.
“So… can I go?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, yes.”
I turn around, which is quite difficult with Ferguson’s desk taking up three quarters of the room, and stride out of his office. I’m still simmering with anger over the captain’s arrogance, so I don’t notice the giant blue Zoran until my nose is pressed right into his broad, naked chest.
My heart skips a beat as my eyes slowly scan up his towering frame.
This man is big.
His naked chest, the color of the ocean, is covered in tattoos and scars. He’s only wearing a pair of shorts, and I notice his knuckles are bloody.
Why is there a half-naked Zoran warrior in the hallway?!
Two violet eyes stare at me. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he can’t comprehend why I’m in his way. Heat rises to my cheeks instantly.
I want to move out of the way, but the hallway is simply too small for the both of us. All I can do is backtrack into the captain’s office, and every step back I take, the Zoran takes one forward, his imposingly tall frame towering over me the entire time.
I’ve never felt so small, so cornered, so trapped before. My heart is racing like mad, and for reasons unexplained, my stomach is fluttering.
His scent, so manly, so strong, completely surrounds me.
“W-what’s this?” Ferguson stammers when the seven foot tall Zoran warrior steps into his office. “W-who are you?”
“Kazim,” he growls, his voice low and animalistic.
He doesn’t even look up at the captain. His eyes, the color of lavender, are focused on me and me alone.
“What in the blazes are you doing here?!”
A second tall Zoran follows Kazim into the captain’s office. Judging by his obsidian armor, and his chest full of medals, he’s a bonafide Zoran General.
Ferguson snaps to attention instantly, saluting the general.
“I’m adding Kazim to your roster,” the general says matter of factly.
“T-this is not according to protocol,” the captain protests.
