Rescued by the Alien Enforcer: A Sci Fi Alien Romance

By Liz Paffel

Every skin trader in the galaxy is after me but the gold-skinned, winged beast poses the biggest threat.

I’ve been abducted from Earth and forced to dance at a burlesque on an alien prison planet where the inmates indulge in debauchery in return for good behavior. Seems human captives have become a hot commodity now that Earth is a breath away from extinction. Suddenly, every black market skin trader and inmate with empty pockets is after me.

My owners won’t let me out of their sight. The new bodyguard I’m assigned to keep me safe is huge, with golden skin and the biggest wings I’ve ever seen. He's an alien beast and he’s up to something. He’s got a killer smile and dangerous eyes. And a secret.

If I’m not careful, my alien bodyguard may become much more. If I survive.

I’m undercover with the mission  to rescue the small human from the prison planet and bring her to safety at the Dome of Enlaan. As a lead enforcer for Cosmic S.W.A.T., it’s my mission to protect human life at all costs. 

Protect, not desire. Or touch. Or more... 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jul 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094460734

Liz Paffel

Liz Paffel traded a twenty year career in emergency medical services to write about strange lights in the sky and things that go bump in the night. She's the author of science fiction romance and paranormal romance and lives in the Midwest, USA with her family.

Book preview

1

Grace

My boobs are hanging out and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Damn these tiny titty covers for doing nothing to hold my goods in place. I should be used to having my body on display after all this time, but it never gets easier.

I suppose that’s the way it is when you’re forced into a constant state of being half naked in front of random men.

The crowd is rowdier than normal tonight by a lot, and I’m feeling overly aware of my skimpy costume. The smell in the air is particularly bad tonight, too. Body odor, dried blood, the staleness of braymead alcohol all waft through the mesh cage surrounding the burlesque stage. The thin metal is the only thing separating me and the other dancers from the crowd of straight-up convicts.

As overly excited as the crowd is tonight, it’s only a matter of time before one of them takes his chances and rushes the stage, only to touch the cage and get fried like a beetle in a bug zapper.

I spin and jump as part of the routine, then bend at the waist and shake my chest. The little tassels over my nipples swing round and round. I spin again and a four-armed female picks me up and makes an arc with my body.

I’m a slave on the planet Orin, owned by the Emperor and forced to dance at a burlesque inside the Antak prison. Every male that watches me tonight is incarcerated for something devious, violent, and abhorrent. They’re allowed to come to the burlesque and live it up. Earth never got the whole prison system thing right. But this planet? They gift prisoners with debauchery in return for good behavior. It keeps peace inside the prison; keeps the inmates from killing each other, and the guards.

It works.

It’s ridiculous, but it works.

And I’m just a pawn in the system.

I land on the ground and hop up onto something that looks like a star.

Who knows? Nothing about this alien burlesque makes sense. The routines always depict something slightly violent or macabre, and the set design is awful. I never know what the theme is. I only worry about knowing my steps to every routine perfectly. Things get painful if I don’t. The Director is always hovering, ready to strike with his laser whip with any misstep.

I shimmy close to the cage. My stomach bottoms out as I reach the front. The men are hanging onto the bars outside of the cage, pulling themselves up as close as possible without getting shocked. Their cheering, leering faces always disgust me. I go through my steps. Spin, spin, shimmy, twirl, then bend with my ass to the cage.

There she is.

The broken words come through my internal translator.

You could sell her hair.

She has lots of hair. Red hair. Big money.

Sell… my hair?

Touch her. Do it. Touch her.

I spin again, the routine keeping me in front longer than I like. Hands on my hips, I prance in place as the other dancers’ spin and dip behind me. Then I see it. A fat, long dirty green finger popping through one of the many holes in the mesh. I glance at the finger’s owner, an oily, toad-looking creature with a massively wide grin and one tooth hanging from behind his top lip.

I shake my head in warning at him. I don’t want him touching me. In all the years I’ve been dancing here, none of the males have ever touched me, yet this is the third time in a handful of days that one of them has tried. I’ve heard rumors that something has gone wrong on Earth and the price of humans has gone up. Way up. Maybe that has something to do with the inmates’ sudden interest in me.

I draw back before toad’s appendage can press into my naked thigh, but he’s determined, and I can’t break routine to avoid him. His filthy nail pricks my skin, his pad poking against my skin.

A roar goes up from the crowd as they cheer him on.

An even louder roar forces the room to go silent.

I’m relieved, but I can’t show it. I can’t look, either, but I don't have to. I know it’s him. I’ve felt him standing in the back all night, watching. Patrolling.

A flash of gold flies over the top of the crowd, the backdraft of giant wings ruffling my hair. I glimpse the huge, winged alien rushing toward the cage. His golden skin glints in the dim lighting. He flies so low over the crowd, that he steps on a few heads as he lurches forward, grabs Toad by the back of the neck and slams him into the cage.

Electricity sparks and zaps until Toad goes still, and the beast tosses the fried convict to the ground.

No touching! His commanding voice booms through the room.

We keep dancing. We have to, or we’ll be the next to feel pain. I catch eyes with the winged alien again and hold his gaze too long. I almost miss a step. It’s been happening a lot lately, the eye contact between him and me. His name is Venn. He’s my bodyguard, and though he’s only been with me for two days, I feel something much more established and familiar towards him.

I still don’t fully understand why I have a bodyguard, or why the convicts are suddenly so intent on touching me and wanting to sell my hair. Something’s up, but my master Hunam, the Emperor of Orin, has said nothing. I can only assume I’m at risk of being stolen, maybe? I’m the only human here, and if we really have become increasingly valuable, who knows what someone might do to get to me.

Hunam has something up his sleeve, the slimy bastard.

He’s normally cool and aloof around me, but he’s been friendly lately. Standing too closely and looking at my body in a way he’s never done before.

Pressure has started inside me lately. My chest keeps filling more and more, and if something doesn’t give, I will burst. It’s anxiety, and it’s coming from the shift in the atmosphere where I’m concerned. I’m afraid for my safety, for my future.

And the inappropriate, totally consuming attraction I have to my bodyguard doesn’t help.

The routine finally finishes, and we hurry backstage to get ready for the next round. I don’t let myself think about Toad touching me, or the men who have tried before him. I can’t afford to be off my game. Staring at myself in the crystal viewscreen, I fix my heavy eyeliner and realize it’s close to how my mom had been wearing it the last time I saw her. It’s called a Cleopatra eye. Mom had been pretty jazzed when she’d learned how to do it. I ponder if I’ve done a good enough job of it. The Director is a nitpicky son of a bitch and has no qualms about marking our bare backs with a few downward thrusts of his spiny tail.

Satisfied that my makeup looks ok, I add a touch of fire glitter beside my eyes for effect. It flickers with holographic flames and looks bomb-ass with my dark eyeliner and deep brown eyes. I feel like I could burn anyone who touches me. I wish I could cover my entire body in it. Lately, it seems I need all the protection that I can get.

The back of my neck prickles with awareness, the way it always does when Venn is near. I can feel him, but I can’t touch him. I get the sense that he hovers around me without getting too close on purpose. He hides beneath a huge cape that covers his head and most of his body but keeps his impressive set of deep golden wings free. I’ve only gotten