Heroic Abduction by Eve Langlais

four-armed Difi’na warriors hadn’t stepped in his path.
    “Your timing leaves much to be desired,” he grumbled as he set Betty down and drew his own sword.
    “Hey, did you just drop me on a glob of bubblegum?” she yelped. “Oh, never mind. I think I just killed an alien.”
    Dyre trusted her to keep herself out of trouble for a moment while he dealt with the menace before him.
    “Give us the human,” the duo demanded in cadence. Born as twins, Difi’na warriors always came in twos, sometimes threes. A formidable force who trained to fight as one at birth, they did have one major weakness. Kill one and the other fell apart.
    Usually, Dyre would have given them a choice: run now before I’m forced to hurt you . However, Betty required his protection, and his damsel’s needs trumped his usual heroic mercy. With a spin, a lunge, a duck, and a thrust, in moments, one warrior lay on the ground gasping as he bled from two stumps and a hole in his chest. He wasn’t dead, yet, but if his twin didn’t act quickly, he would die soon.
    No longer worried about them, Dyre grabbed Betty, who hummed an odd tune about bottles on a wall and slung her over his shoulder, which left him able to carry his sword. Judging by her giggles, she didn’t mind, although, he could have done without the pinches to his buttocks which he felt even through his cloak.
    Dyre left an unfortunate swath of bodies and gore on his trek back to his ship, but in his defense, the biggest mess lay at the entrance to the tunnel docking his vessel to the space station. A mess that didn’t belong to him, but Zista.
    Eyes glowing golden and her beak clacking, Zista hopped about on her clawed feet, stubby wings flapping. “Marvelous exercise,” she crowed. “I haven’t enjoyed such a lovely workout since I left my planet.”
    “You killed them all?”
    “Not all. I’m sure a few managed to crawl off while I was busy taking care of their friends,” she said. Zista noticed his burden. “What did she do now?”
    “She might have imbibed a tad more than she could handle.”
    Zista snorted. “Two sips and she’s flat on her white buttocks. Do you need me to put her to bed?”
    “I think I can handle one tiny human. Can you prepare the ship for takeoff?” Most of the controls were automated, but it never hurt to have someone watching over them.
    “My pleasure,” the Zonian replied, not perturbed at all that he would be putting her drunken friend to bed. Does she not know of my race’s reputation for debauching? Pity Dyre didn’t allow himself that kind of mercenary fun. Sigh.
    Being a hero was hard sometimes. Really hard. He cast a rueful glance down at his cock, which had maintained a semi erection since the kiss in the bar. Nothing like the promise of sex and a decent adrenalized fight to pool the blood in one spot.
    He slid Betty off his shoulder once on board, but her knees buckled, so she didn’t stand on her own two feet for long. Back into his arms she went, and back to his jaw went her lips.
    “You know, you’ve got soft skin for a man. Have I told you I like a freshly shaved man?” she murmured between nibbles.
    No, she hadn’t, but he made a mental note to shave every day, twice a day, if she liked it so much.
    He tried to distract himself from her seduction lest he forget himself and push her up against the nearest wall, insert himself between her thighs, and then take her mouth and willing, soft body. “Why did you not tell me before you were seeking your friend?” he asked instead.
    “I haven’t told anybody, not even Zista. Although,” Betty lowered her voice, “I think she suspects. But other than that, it’s a secret. The Zonian matriarchs wouldn’t have let me come otherwise. Something about letting warriors stand on their own two claws. Or talons.”
    “Are the Zonians not concerned about the missing females?”
    “Yes, but they don’t like to act unless foul play is certain. Kill or maim one of them and