Page 7 of Solan

“You charge too much. We can’t afford you,” Vegas said. “Our security protocols are excellent.”

“You have yet to search our ship,” Solan said.

“Do you have something on board we need to know about?” Vegas arched an eyebrow.

“If we did, it would be too late by now,” Solan said.

Vegas stepped closer. “We conducted an internal and external scan of your ship before you entered the docking bay. Our scanners recorded no threats. And, while you were debating the usefulness of our security team, two stealth bots entered your craft and are completing a thorough sweep.”

Solan turned and stared at the open ramp. “You entered my ship without my permission?”

“As you said, we need to be sure you will not pose us any threat.”

Padam caught Solan’s eye and a flicker of a smile traced across his broad face.

Few races got the better of Solan. He’d need to keep a closer eye on Vegas Munro. Humans were small in stature, but it appeared they made up for it in cunningness.

Solan nodded to his troop. “Go with the small female. Assess the suitability of the accommodation.”

“I assure you, we provide excellent accommodation,” Vegas said.

“So you should, given the amount of finance we have provided you.”

Vegas’s eyes narrowed. “It will be worth it.” She turned and strode away.

Solan followed her. He was used to strong women, but they were normally more his physical match than anything else. Galaxar females could match males in every aspect. That was a part of the problem. That was why he was here.

As he walked out of the docking bay, Solan found it unpleasantly cold. The space station’s climate appeared to be set for aliens who lived in temperate conditions. He was used to hot deserts and dry environments. The feel of the sun blazing on his skin was one he was used to. This tepid environment did nothing to improve his mood. Neither did the stern-faced female he walked beside. Solan knew a little about Vegas through their communications. He hadn’t expected her to be so sharp when they met.

Normally, silence didn’t bother him. He’d rather that than chatter. The atmosphere surrounding him felt tense and flared his battle instinct. Humans liked to talk; perhaps that was the problem. He should make an effort to make Vegas feel more comfortable around him.

“How long have you been at the station?”

Vegas glanced at him. “A year. Ever since My Single Alien began.”

“You established the matching service?”

“No. I was one of their first recruits. I used to do something similar back on Earth.”

“It seems like a success.”

“When you have a commodity everyone wants, it’s hard to fail.”

“And these...” he waved his hand in the air, “these weddings that were mentioned. They are an indicator of success?”

“That’s what my boss thinks.” Vegas looked at Solan again. This time her gaze ran over him.

Heat stirred inside Solan as he watched her assess him. Was she double-checking the physical attribute information he had sent through, or did she desire him?

Her gaze cut to his face, and she sped up. “Weddings are fun. I know Galaxars match purely for a successful breeding outcome, but some find it nice to have a partner to do other things with. Some like to have a single mate and remain with them. I’m assuming you’ve read the Guide to Human Interaction that was sent through? It explains these concepts.”

“I have.” Solan knew about the concept of monogamy. “On our planet, we have what is known as timeless mates. It is rare to find someone who can be your timeless mate. It is easier simply to breed.”

“A timeless mate. I like the sound of that.” Vegas smiled. “The breeding is the easy part. Getting someone to love you is the hard part.”

“I hear Earth women are remarkably fertile.”

“There’s nothing remarkable about it,” Vegas said. “We’ve not messed around with our genetics like some races. Women have always been good at getting pregnant.”