Page 4 of Her Alien Soldier (Asterion Station #1)

I t was almost the end of Maggie’s shift when Xarek walked back into the bar. She’d kept a vigilant look out for his Paraxian, but it was another day of seeing nearly every other race in the known universe, but not a single Paraxian.

“Thank you for keeping watch for me,” Xarek said.

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

She went to the back, brought out another ale - she’d ordered more earlier that day, in case he ended up staying a while - and poured it for him.

She could feel him watching her. Not the way some customers did, not in a leering way that made her feel like she was nothing more than a pair of breasts with legs.

He watched her, and she felt like he saw her.

And that makes absolutely no sense, Mags, she chastised herself. She took a breath then walked back to him and set the mug of ale on the bar in front of him, offering him a smile as she did.

“If you need to rest later, my friend Georgina is on. She’s reliable and I’ve alerted all of the bartenders here to watch for a Paraxian and contact you if they see one. I hope you don’t mind me giving out your contact code.”

She waited for a few seconds as he watched her, and the intensity in his gaze made her heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest. “I do not mind. Thank you for doing that,” he rumbled, and oh, she’d be more than happy to let him show his appreciation however he wanted.

Cold shower. Think unsexy thoughts, she told herself.

“I’m off tomorrow, so there’ll be another bartender on duty when I’m normally here.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then nodded. “I hope you have an enjoyable day off. You deserve it.”

“You deserve one more than I do. I just sling drinks and make small talk,” she said with a soft laugh. “You fight. And even when you’re not, you’re still on duty, like now,” she added.

He shook his head. “Do not downplay what you do, Maggie,” he said quietly.

“You make and serve the drinks, yes. But I see how you interact with people. You listen. You offer advice and information when asked. You make people feel less alone, if only for a little while. That is important.” He took a drink of his ale, then fixed that gaze on her again.

“And, as you said yesterday, that is not all you are. You are multifaceted. Your work is not your entire personality. Some of us could learn much from you, if we had the time.”

She couldn’t help staring at him. She hadn’t heard him string that many words together since he’d arrived. But more than that was the sincerity, the calm warmth of his voice when he spoke.

A male who knew how to talk to her like that? Who looked the way he did and smelled of pure, clean, masculine warmth? She knew she’d do anything he asked.

Anything.

And shit, that was dangerous. That was the kind of thing she’d sworn off, giving up control of her heart and body like that.

“It’s… it’s time for me to go,” she said. “Hopefully you’ll hear something soon.”

“I hope so. Enjoy your time off, Maggie.”

She nodded, then moved away, focusing on making sure things were set up, clean, and organized for the next bartender, and when they arrived, she chatted with them for a few moments before heading out, unable to stop herself from glancing at Xarek as she did.

He gave her a nod, and she left before she could convince herself to stay, take a seat beside him, order a drink, and probably make a huge mistake.

Coward.

Xarek watched Maggie leave, following her stunning curves until she’d passed through the doors and out of his line of vision. He took a deep breath and then a large gulp of ale.

The Paraxian needed to get here. He needed to get back to his people. The pull to spend time with Maggie, to learn about her and find out what she felt like in his arms, was nearly too powerful to ignore.

He was a soldier. His former almost-wife had been right about that.

What kind of fool keeps himself away from a woman like Maggie?

What kind of male doesn’t take the time to lavish praise upon a female like that, find out how he can help her, learn what brings her joy and makes her feel as adored as she should?

The kind who only has room in his life for one thing, apparently.

He gave a small shake of his head, watching the entrance to the bar.

The Paraxian better have what he promised.

Someone sat on the stool next to his, and Xarek glanced that way and gave the person a short nod of greeting.

They lifted a hand in greeting, and Xarek noted that it was a Bellarian.

Perhaps one of those who’d been in the band that had been playing the first time he’d seen Maggie.

She’d been swaying, bobbing her head in time with the music.

Her joy had been like a punch to the gut.

How long had it been since he’d seen pure, easy joy like that?

“Altarian. Don’t get many of you around here,” the Bellarian said.

Xarek nodded. “You must see all kinds coming through here.”

The Bellarian signaled for a drink, then smiled at the bartender as he set it in front of him.

While not as massive as his own powerfully-built people, the Bellarians were still much taller than most races.

Shades of green for their skin, which had an almost scaled texture to it.

This one had dark blue hair in long braids.

“I do,” the Bellarian said with a nod. “One of the best places to play. We have a contract to play here three times a week.”

“Steady work for a musician. Must be a rare thing,” Xarek said, and the Bellarian grunted, nodding.

“So you heard us. Any opinions?”

“Your band is good. One of the few I have not wanted to throttle since I arrived,” Xarek said, and the Bellarian laughed before taking a drink.

“High praise. Thank you,” he said, and Xarek grunted before taking a gulp of his ale. The doors to the bar opened, and he was annoyed when it was not a Paraxian or Maggie.

“Waiting for someone?” the Bellarian asked, and Xarek turned his gaze to him.

“Why do you ask?” he muttered, suspicion rising immediately. The Redlians, their enemy, had agents everywhere. What if this one was one of them, ready to send word back to his employers that an Altarian was here, waiting, meeting with a Paraxian?

They would be forewarned that his people might finally have an advantage of some sort. It would ruin everything.

“I’ve seen you in here multiple times now. You almost always watch the door. Unless the dark-haired bartender is here.”

Xarek didn’t respond to that, taking a drink of his ale instead. “I am here recovering from injuries,” he finally muttered. “And I have mostly forgotten how to relax, so it makes me restless.” It was true enough.

“Your war continues, then?” the Bellarian asked, and Xarek shot a look in his direction.

“It does. What do you know of it?”

“I know that my people have been in talks for years about whether they should help yours. Bellari is the closest planet in this quadrant to yours. A good number of us believe that the Redlians won’t be fully satisfied after eradicating everyone in your quadrant.

They will move on to this quadrant next. ”

He was not wrong, on either count. They had been in talks with Bellarian leadership for quite a long time. He did not begrudge them their caution. It was a decision that would affect their people for a long time, and Bellarians would lose their lives.

They were the only ones in this quadrant who had even entered into talks with his people. Everyone else, he assumed, felt secure in the distance between them, secure in the fact that the Paraxians had, not yet, at least, developed the same travel methods as his own people.

He was also not wrong about the fact that if Maggie was there, his attention was on the happy, curvy, stunning human probably far more than it should be.

“I was not aware the Bellarian government had shared that information with the public.”

“They haven’t. Their operatives know, though,” the Bellarian said.

“And what else do their operatives know?”

The Bellarian smirked, giving Xarek a nod. “Word is, their operatives know that a Paraxian caused quite a bit of technological damage getting in and out of Redlian high command before disappearing, untraceable and untrackable. Wonder where he might be going.”

“I wonder,” Xarek said mildly.

“Your people aren’t the best at subterfuge. Too honest and straightforward. So, word of advice? If I was waiting to make contact with a Paraxian, I’d try to look less like I was waiting for someone. Maybe spend some time with a cute human on your lap or something.”

The image of Maggie perched on his lap was enough to make his body heat. “I am not waiting for anyone.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Xarek nodded, and the Bellarian took another drink.

“The bartenders here are all watching out. Leave sometimes. Spend more time on your ship. Hit the game tables, go see a show. Act like someone who is here for rest and recuperation,” he said quietly.

“I’ll even play a hand or two of Parlacc with you a time or two if you want. ”

“What does it matter to you, Bellarian?”

“It matters because the sooner we can get the Redlian problem dealt with, the better. I’ve spent my life making sure my people don’t end up with the same fate as so many in your quadrant. This ends before it goes any further,” he muttered.

“You’ll forgive me for not just trusting your word. You could be feeding information to the Redlians.”

The Bellarian nodded. “I could be. And it’s smart not to trust. But it also wouldn’t hurt to take my advice. The human seems to like you. She’d help you without much complaint, I think.”

“Perhaps.”

The Bellarian looked around, sighed, then turned back to Xarek.

“I am Andethor, Bellari Intelligence Officer, First Class,” the Bellarian said in an almost indecipherable voice, his hand covering his mouth as if he was yawning.

Xarek paused for a moment, then nodded. And said nothing.

Andethor grinned, then took a drink. “Keep your secrets, Altarian. But take my advice, too. Be less conspicuous in your vigil.” With that, Andethor tapped on the bar, nodded at Xarek, and walked toward the stage, where the rest of his band was assembling.

Xarek frowned, then took a long drink of his ale. It was not the worst idea, he could admit that. He was rather conspicuous. He supposed he could always just say he enjoyed the ale. And he would. And mention his injury and the need to recover, even though he hated to do so.

It felt like weakness.

As far as using Maggie in that way… while his body fairly roared in approval at the idea of having her perched on his lap, pressed against him, his head warned that it was a terrible idea. He’d never want to let her go. He would want far more than for it to be an act.

He would be distracted from his mission.

And the idea of holding another woman on his lap was as distasteful to him at this point as eating raw Telaarian sea fungus.

The band started playing, and he blew out a breath. He could pretend he was here to drink and enjoy music. It was a start.