Page 32 of Solan

“Unless you go willingly.” Vegas took a deep breath, trying to grab any vestige of dignity and professionalism. “I understand this is an exciting experience. I also recognize there are many differences between us that can cause confusion. I have not helped with that, and I’m sorry for it.”

“I was not confused when I was kissing you.”

“But I was,” Vegas said. “I should not have done that. Now, thank you for the gifts. It was a good learning experience for us both.” She pointed at the door. “It’s time for you to go. This is over.”

Solan opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “There is no logic to your actions.” He stamped to the door and walked out.

Vegas blew out a long, slow breath. He was right. She was behaving like an idiot. She’d been mixing fantasy with reality. Getting involved with Solan, or anyone was stupid. She was fine just as she is. She needed to keep it together for the sake of the space station and her own sanity.

Vegas wanted to find love, but finding it with Solan was not an option.

Chapter 9

Everyone who encountered Solan as he stormed toward the bar shifted quickly out of his way. They knew an angry Galaxar when they saw one and didn’t want to get noticed in case he took his frustrations out on them and they ended up denting the space station’s metallic frame.

He would not be defeated. Vegas was healthy and strong and knew her own mind. Solan grunted. She knew her own mind too well, but she had incorrect ideas. She was convinced her current life was the best she would have. How could she think such ridiculous thoughts? Providing her with a squib and his arms to protect her would make her life infinitely more enjoyable.

His fists clenched as he recalled her soft flesh under his fingers as they’d kissed. Galaxar women weren’t like that. They were all hard edges and muscle. There was nothing soft about them. With Vegas, he’d enjoyed the fragile feel of her. It raised his desire to nurture and protect. She was feminine and enticing, and it only made him want her more.

He would enjoy that softness when it was laid bare in front of him. If only he could get the stubborn, headstrong female to agree to disrobe and let him take her.

Solan reached the space station’s bar—The Enchanted Captain—and stopped by the door. His gaze tracked around the busy room. There were a dozen small circular tables set around the edge and a circular bar in the center. Aliens were dotted around it, enjoying drinks and chatting with friends. He spotted Padam at one end and strode toward him.

Padam stood to attention as he approached and placed a fisted hand on his chest. “Colonel Solan.” He was always respectful when they were in public.

“I need a drink.” Solan slumped into the seat next to him.

“I’m trying something called mead,” Padam said. “It has a curious taste. You might enjoy it.”

“Fine. I’ll have mead. Same again?” He nodded to Padam’s half-empty glass.

“It sits well with me. I will. Thank you, sir.”

Solan glanced around after he’d placed their drink order. “Let’s find a quiet table.”

Padam grabbed the drinks and followed Solan to the far end of the bar where there were fewer aliens. They could talk without being overheard and drop the formal act.

He grabbed a glass from Padam and downed half of it. The strange, yeasty taste made him pause. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, Solan enjoyed the head rush the alcohol gave him. He needed something to wash away his recent experience with Vegas. Maybe getting drunk on human produced alcohol would help him make sense of this situation.

“I hate to admit, but I was defeated in my quest.” Padam sipped his mead as he studied Solan.

“Your quest?”

“To find a human female to kiss. I asked several, but they all laughed and declined the offer. Anyone would think there is something physically wrong with me.” Padam looked down at his muscular chest.

“It’s the human women who are the problem,” Solan growled. “They do not know a good thing when they are offered one.”

“I accept your compliment.”

Solan arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I am a good thing. You think I’m kissable? Shall I ask you for a kiss?”

Solan grunted and drank more mead. “I expect some unsuspecting female will succumb to your charms.”

“Many have.”

“But so far, none on the space station. You are losing your touch.”