Page 9

As we walk away, the female calls, “Five. I’ll do it for five thou.”

“Five thousand for two untraceable wristbands and legal papers for him?” Annora asks over her shoulder as we trudge away.

“You two mated?” she asks.

“No.”

“Okay. If you was mated I wouldn’t do it even for ten thou. Those hissers shouldn’t even be on this planet. Human women is too good for ‘em.”

Before the female sits down at her battered desk to get to work, Annora says, “And I’ll need a stunner. No. Two of them.”

She doesn’t look at me, but must feel every muscle in my body stiffen.

I don’t want to provide the old crone with a show to demonstrate just how aggressive and argumentative Draalians can be, but I want to pull Annora aside and question her decision. It has been my experience that weapons escalate aggression rather than keep the peace.

“A thou for each stunnah,” is her reply.

Although the female’s clothing, ancient metal box in which she works, and her hygiene indicate poverty, she pulls out what looks like an expensive wrist-comm and puts the word out for someone to bring the weapons.

“Want a trackah?” she asks.

“What?” Annora leans forward, face pinched as she tries to understand the female’s dialect.

“Put a trackah in so you can trace him if someone takes him.”

“Yes,” Annora replies.

Well over an Earth hour later, we have untraceable comms on our wrists, I have what I’ve been assured are perfectly forged documents hidden in one of my coat’s inside pockets, and we both have stunners wedged in the waistbands of our pants.

I’ve also been called ‘newt’ six times, ‘hisser’ twice, ‘froggy’, ‘snake’, and ‘asshole’. The only bright side of the experience, other than the papers lying flat against my heart, is that the words appeared to bother Annora more than they bothered me. She’s truly a good female.

“I don’t know why you were worried about bringing me down here,” I tell her as we make our way back to our hover, “no one’s called me repulsive once.” I flash her a smile, hoping it doesn’t look repulsive on me. She stops walking.

“I don’t believe I apologized for that, Zorn. I am sorry. It wasn’t my best day, certainly not my best moment.”

Just as I’m about to forgive her, I see something dart toward us. It’s the female dressed in black who wanted to buy me. Only now she’s accompanied by three nefarious-looking companions.

“Ten thousand was a fair price,” she snarls as she jabs the barrel of a weapon into the small of my back. “Now I’m going to take him, and you’ll get nothing.”

The female’s three associates all have their laser barrels pointed at Annora’s chest. My heart accelerates, not for my own safety, but for Annora.

“Crap,” Annora says. “He’s brand new. I just wanted to have a little fun with him before I put him up for sale. How was I to answer your question about whether both cocks worked before I gave them a try?”

Her eyes dart to mine. It’s obvious that other than stalling she has no idea what to do.

I stand taller, my shoulders back. We had just discussed my fifteen years in my planet’s army.

I have a stunner in my waistband, but am certain I won’t need to use it.

My face is a mask of calm as my eyes flick in the direction I want her to go.

She needs to move toward the van and get out of range of the three laser pistols pointed at her heart.

“Fucker!” she spits. “I paid too much for you. Fucking newt! Have at him, ladies. He’s dumb as a stump, uncooperative, and I’m not sure he even likes women.”

To my relief, she saunters in the van’s direction.

“Hands up,” one of the women orders me.

I do as I’m told as I watch Annora out of the corner of my eye. When she’s far enough from the fray and all four pairs of eyes are focused on me, I easily turn on one heel, disarm the leader, whose gun was at the small of my back, and pull her in front of me to dissuade the other three from firing.

I’m more than a head taller than each of them, and from the download I received on the trip here, I’m two to three times stronger than their strongest. I don’t need to overpower them, however. I just order them to hand over their weapons while I press the muzzle of the leader’s gun into her back.

With their weapons nestled in the deep pockets of the crimson coat Annora scoffed at, I order them all to walk ahead of me to the parking area.

Annora must have watched the whole scuffle, because she’s scurried to my side and is trying to keep up with my long strides.

“Nice job, Newt! Impressive.” She’s unable to hide her smile as her gaze darts to mine.

“How fast can you run to the hover-van, and get it started? We’re not out of danger yet.” I don’t expect the females to give up without another fight. Our skirmish was almost too easy, I’m not even out of breath. It’s Annora I’m worried about.

“I can be speedy.”

“Run ahead, pay the mech, and start the van. Make sure she’s not a newt-hater and didn’t disable the thing. I’ll slide in and we’ll take off the moment my ass is in the seat. Okay?”

“Got it.”

Within moments I arrive at the waiting van, toss the weapons far away, and slide into my seat. As we hover up the spiral ramp, we’ve barely rounded the first bend before I hear weapon fire behind us. They retrieved their weapons faster than I thought they would.

“I guess you were right. We did need the governor removed,” I tell her as I see laser sparks blaze against the structure’s walls, barely missing us. We emerge into the daylight unscathed as Annora aims the hover’s nose out of town.

“The mech told me the van’s clean. Untraceable. Although . . . she pointed out that we’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

I can’t read her language, so I ask, “What does it say?” The picture on the side is a naked male Earther.

One leg is out flat, the other is bent at the knee so it hides his members .

. . member. I forget they only have one.

When I examined him earlier I noticed he’s looking at the viewer with an expression that, on a Draalian, would signal sexual interest.

“No Shame Sex Toys,” Annora says. “My grandmother started the company shortly after males began to die. Back in those days, embracing female sexuality wasn’t the fashion.”

“No shame,” I echo. On Draal, openly discussing masturbation is not accepted. Things are evidently different here.

She seems to be making random turns, assuming someone might be following us, but in a few moments she asks, “Where to?”

“Your house.”

“What?”

“This is too dangerous. You need to go back to your house where you’ll be safe. I’ll figure out how to find my bro—”

“Which direction, Draalian? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I’m all-in.”

I argue for long minutes, but there’s no convincing her. She keeps asking, “Which way?” until I finally point.

She consults something on her dash, then asks, “Northwest?”

“I don’t have my bearings regarding Earth directions, but you should make a route that way.” I point again.

“We’re off.”

She has a sophisticated nav system, but occasionally pulls over to consult it, trying to find roads that are less traveled.

“My heart is still pounding,” she says as she presses her hand over her chest.

While half of my thoughts are concerned with her physical and emotional safety, the other half of my brain is wondering what it would feel like if it were my hand so close to her breasts.

Is that little bump I see her nipple? And why are my cocks throbbing when I should be far more focused on the fact that four people just held us at gunpoint and we narrowly escaped injury?

“Want me to drive?”

“I’ll be fine. You were magnificent back there by the way. Disarming four people without pulling your own weapon. Your army trained you well.”

“Thanks.” My cocks are tucked up toward my waist, and my primary is pressing against the front of my pants, wanting to show its heartfelt appreciation for her praise.

I lean on my hip, feign intense interest out my side window, and reach into my pants to rearrange myself before my circulation gets cut off.