Priceless

By J.J. Collins

On a distant planet, Jovin Alles makes a lucrative living providing his wealthy clientele with unique works of art and collectibles. Then he accidently finds himself in possession of a Telzhan, an alien race known for their sexual expertise. This mouth-watering male has decided Jovin would make the perfect mate for him. And he’s about to go into rut...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Jan 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781772336689

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Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 J.J. Collins

ISBN: 978-1-77233-668-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Serena and Rebecca

All our rowdy friends are coming over tonight.

PRICELESS

J.J. Collins

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Jovin got out of the drone cab three blocks from his destination, while he was still in a part of the city he could afford to be seen in. Though drone cabs had no drivers, customers could be ID’d through their credit cards, and routes from pickup to stop could be electronically traced. Best all around if no one knew where Jovin was going at this time of night.

He pulled his raincoat’s collar up to shield the back of his neck from the chilly nighttime drizzle. The tufiber cloth had been programmed to repel moisture, but it must be on the blatz. Just one more annoyance he didn’t need.

Damn the rain anyway. You’d think a city as large and prosperous as Nashgow—a spaceport, for the love of Ghod—would be sophisticated enough to have climate control.

His misery was all Cray’s doing, naturally. Had the slimy little gnome never heard of normal business hours? Of course, to Cray midnight meetings in grubby surroundings were normal business hours. The little prick enjoyed the melodrama, and staying clear of the police.

I’ve found us something, luvvy. His message had come in just as Jovin was about to get into the shower. Something your buddies will pay through their patrician noses for. Better get over here before I decide to keep it for myself.

Ever cautious, Jovin had called him for details, on the private untraceable frequency. All he’d gotten for that was a lot of coy hints and Cray’s oily snickers. But he couldn’t afford to say no.

So here he was, hurrying through the cold rain instead of luxuriating under a warm shower, because Cray might have found some rare knickknack Jovin’s wealthy clients might covet. That was the trouble with Nashgow. If you wanted something here, from a particular piece of art to the best in imported foods, you had to deal with Cray. The upper classes didn’t deal with the likes of Cray. That was where Jovin came in.

Cray fucking well better have the damn lost treasure of Tso-lou, after forcing Jovin out into this dismal slop. Otherwise he’d be importing himself a new set of teeth.

Thank Ghod, the dingy warehouse Cray called his office finally loomed into view. Jovin splashed the last several yards and pounded on the door. What’s the password? Cray called from within.

Open this goddamn door or I’ll rip your lungs out.

The door opened. Always ecstatic to see you, too. Cray ushered him inside. And how are you this evening?

What is it you dragged me out here to see?

Pissed off with a bug up your arse, as per usual. Very well. To business, then. Our road to ridiculous riches lies right through here.

Jovin followed Cray into the warehouse proper, his glare fixed to the back of the smarmy little bastard’s balding head. When this unfortunate meeting was over, he was going to stand under a hot shower for at least an hour. He’d need it, after dealing with Cray.

As usual, though, he couldn’t help checking out Cray’s inventory, and mentally noting items his clients might be interested in. On paper, Cray ran a legitimate import-export business that dealt in goods from on- and off-planet. Judicious bribes to the authorities funded his true activities. Jovin’s clientele hungered for the unusual, the rare, the unique. Always in search of newer, shinier toys. Cray kept the best-stocked toy store on the planet.

Jovin’s assessing eye passed over rows of statues, stacks of paintings, antique furnishings, rugs, and rare animal pelts. One entire wall was dedicated to weapons, both genuine and artistic reproductions. All these items were legal enough to keep Cray out of jail. His special acquisitions he kept in a separate room.

He noted an exquisitely detailed bedroom set carved from icewood. Icewood forests had nearly vanished in these modern times. That set had to be over two hundred years old, and was still in excellent shape. Lady Azteth was redecorating her summer home. She’d want to know about