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“It’s too late for that,” Boros said.

The note of triumph in Boros’s voice made Solan pause. That sand sucking worm was up to something.

“It’s not happening.” Vegas raised her wrist comm. “Station security team to the East wing.”

There was no response.

She looked down at her wrist comm. “You idiot! You broke it.”

“Fortunately for us,” Boros said. “We don’t want your security interfering with private Galaxar matters.”

“This is not a private Galaxar matter,” Vegas said. “You’re on our space station.” She turned to enter Heather’s room.

Boros raced after her, wrapped an arm around her waist and spun her to face him. “I don’t think so.”

“Keep your hands off her.” Solan grabbed Boros’s shoulder. His skin was slick with mating oil and musk. Solan snarled. Boros had prepared himself, assuming Vegas would want him.

Boros swiped his blade at Solan, causing him to jump back to avoid his arm being sliced off. “She likes it. I have found a mate who will enjoy being restrained and dominated.”

“Wait! What?” Vegas bucked in Boros’s arms. “There’s no way in hell you’re going to do that to me.”

“Let her go.” Solan needed to get Vegas away from Boros without her getting injured. If Boros wasn’t holding her against his chest, he could attack him. “This is between you and me.”

“Solan! Look out,” Vegas yelled, her eyes widening as she looked over his shoulder.

Solan turned a second too late. Boros’s guards attacked from behind, a blade slicing into Solan’s shoulder and another spearing his thigh.

With a roar of anger, Solan swung his fists, slamming into the guard who’d struck his shoulder and sending him to the ground.

The second guard drew his blade out of Solan’s thigh and tried to plunge it in again. That was a mistake, giving Solan an opportunity.

He slammed a fist into the guard’s stomach. Despite the solid muscle he felt, Solan kept pounding. The guard grabbed him in a headlock, and they smashed out of the room back into the corridor.

Solan pinned the guard’s blade arm. He yanked the blade from his hand, forcing it against the guard’s neck.

“If you kill my guard, I will have you up on a disciplinary action.” Boros spoke from inside the room, his arms still clamped around a protesting Vegas.

“As if I care about that.”

Blood trickled out of a cut on the guard’s neck as the blade sliced through his toughened skin.

“You will care when you are stripped of all rank and forced to work in the mines on Comet Dembie. I will make sure you never hold a position of authority again. I will also ensure this human’s life is a misery. It will be punishment for what you have done to disrespect me.”

Solan stopped pressing the blade down. He didn’t want Vegas to suffer. “Let her go. We can negotiate.”

“There is only one thing I want from you,” Boros said. “Your head on the end of my blade. You have challenged me. I accept that challenge. We are to fight.”

“No,” Vegas said. “I won’t allow it.”

“As if you get any say in the matter.” Boros released his hold on her and pushed Vegas to one side.

“Neither of you fight,” Vegas said, her gaze flitting over Solan’s injuries. “We can come to an understanding.”

Solan shook his head. Vegas didn’t understand their ways. He appreciated she was trying to protect him, but he never backed down from a challenge. Especially not one from this over-inflated runt. “This is how we do things.”

“Solan has disrespected me,” Boros said. “I claim the right to gut him and take his head as a trophy.”

Solan growled. “And you have disrespected something I value. Vegas is not an object to be bartered over.”