Page 5 of Bounty Hunter’s Match (Vinduthi Captured Mates #6)

CAMDEN

T he scent of Barek’s skin drifted across my desk as he leaned over my shoulder to study the client profiles on my screens. His presence stirred the air, brushed against my awareness. I kept my breathing steady, professional.

Almost.

“This one’s lying.” Barek tapped the screen, his claw-tipped finger precise against the holographic display. “Body language in the interview footage doesn’t match his stated intentions.”

I pulled up the file. “Dren Voss? He’s a respected merchant-”

“Who keeps touching his neck markings when discussing past relationships. Sign of deception in most scaled species.” Barek’s breath stirred my hair. “Check his trading records.”

Data scrolled across the screen as MIRA accessed public databases. Multiple shell companies, hidden accounts, a pattern of short-term relationships ending in mysterious accidents...

“Huh.” I flagged the profile for rejection. “That’s... actually impressive. How did you-”

“Tracked him two years ago. Suspected involvement in identity theft schemes targeting lonely marks.” His hand brushed my shoulder as he straightened. “Romance is often used as a weapon.”

“Or a shield.” I spun my chair to face him. “People lie because they’re afraid of being hurt, not just to hurt others.”

“Fear leads to vulnerability. Vulnerability leads to exploitation.”

“Says the man who keeps stealing my dating guides.”

His ears twitched. “Research materials.”

“Of course.” I bit back a smile. “Very logical approach.”

“Romance isn’t logical.”

“No?” I pulled up another profile. “What about compatibility algorithms? Behavioral analysis? Statistical probability of-”

“Numbers can’t predict chemistry.”

“But they can identify patterns.” I gestured at the screens surrounding us. “Like how you instinctively read body language and micro-expressions. That’s pattern recognition too.”

He growled softly. “Different kinds of patterns.”

“Are they?” I stood, moving closer. “You track prey by reading signs, following trails. I track compatibility the same way. Both require understanding behavior, anticipating responses...”

“Not the same thing.”

“No?” I reached up, my fingers almost brushing the markings on his neck. “Your pulse just jumped. That’s a physiological response I can measure, categorize, predict-”

He pushed my hand away. “Bishop.”

“Yes?”

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Never.” I smiled up at him. “It’s my job.”

“I’m not a client.”

“No.” My voice softened. “You’re not.”

His grip on my wrist gentled but didn’t release. The heat of his skin bled into mine. One step closer and I’d be pressed against that impressive chest. The thought made my own pulse skip.

“Your heart rate’s elevated,” he murmured.

“Analyzing me, bounty hunter?”

“Always.” His thumb traced circles on my inner wrist. “Professional requirement.”

The main door chimed, breaking the moment. We jumped apart as Madame Hara’s distinctive form flowed into the office, her multiple eyes gleaming with interest.

“Oh my,” she purred, tentacles rippling. “Don’t stop on my account. That was just getting interesting.”

“Madame.” I smoothed my hair, trying to look calm. “You’re early.”

“Darling, I’m never early. I simply arrive precisely when the narrative requires.” She turned all eight eyes on Barek. “And who is this delicious specimen?”

“Security,” he growled.

“How fascinating! I don’t believe I’ve written a security guard romance yet...” Her tentacles curled thoughtfully. “Though there was that one scene in ‘Passion’s Purple Prose’ where the bodyguard and the princess-”

“Madame.” I cut in before she could start quoting passages. “Shall we discuss your latest manuscript?”

“After you introduce me properly.” She glided closer to Barek, who looked like he was fighting the urge to reach for a weapon. “I simply must know if those markings extend all the way down...”

I definitely didn’t want to know that either. Definitely.

“Barek, this is Madame Hara, our resident romance novelist. Madame, this is Barek. Who is very busy with security duties.”

“Not too busy for a quick interview, surely?” Her colors shifted to what I recognized as her ‘plotting’ pattern. “I have so many questions about Vinduthi mating rituals...”

“Classified,” Barek said flatly.

“Everything interesting usually is.” She winked three eyes at him. “But I have ways of making people talk.”

“Madame.” I moved between them. “Your manuscript?”

“Oh very well.” She settled her tentacles with obvious reluctance. “Though I do hope you’ll consider collaborating on my next project. ‘The Bounty Hunter’s Forbidden Desire’ has such a nice ring to it...”

Barek made a strangled sound.

“Or perhaps something more subtle?” She brightened. “Security Measures of the Heart? Guarding Her Love? I have several working titles-”

“I’ll be doing perimeter checks,” Barek announced, heading for the door. “For at least an hour.”

“Such a shame.” Madame Hara watched him go with obvious appreciation. “Though the view as he leaves is quite inspiring...”

“The manuscript,” I said firmly.

“Spoilsport.” She pulled out a data crystal. “Though I notice you didn’t disagree about the view.”

I refused to blush. “Let’s focus on your work.”

“Darling, that’s exactly what I am doing.” Her tentacles curled with amusement. “Research is vital for authentic storytelling. Speaking of which, how flexible are Vinduthi warriors exactly?”

“That’s not-”

“And those little horns - are they sensitive? I have a scene where-”

“No.”

“Not even for scientific purposes?”

“Especially not for scientific purposes.”

The end of the business day came with the usual cascade of station announcements in multiple languages. I watched Barek do his final security sweep, admiring how he moved with contained power even performing such a routine task.

“Dinner?” The word left my mouth before I could overthink it. “For security planning, of course. The Valentine’s Gala needs discussing.”

He paused mid-stride, those red eyes finding mine. “Security planning.”

“Exactly.” I gathered my things, glad years of negotiating gave me a decent poker face. “Purely professional. There’s a new Renthian place in Blue Section that supposedly does amazing things with bioluminescent garnishes.”

“The one with the floating tables?”

“Antigrav dining platforms. Very exclusive.” I smiled. “Unless someone has security concerns about the height...”

His ears twitched. “I am not afraid of heights.”

“Of course not. Though if you’d prefer somewhere more ground-level-”

“Bishop.”

“Yes?”

“Stop baiting me.”

“Never.” I headed for the door. “Coming?”

He fell into step beside me, his long stride shortening to match mine easily. The corridors buzzed with end-of-shift activity - a Merrith engineer arguing with their datapad, two Nazoks attempting to juggle glowing spheres, a Selenthian street vendor selling what looked like crystallized starlight.

“Three credit special!” The vendor waved a sample at us. “Guaranteed to make your mate’s markings shine!”

“His don’t shine,” I said automatically, then caught Barek’s raised eyebrow. “I mean-”

“You’ve been studying Vinduthi physiology?”

“Professional research.”

“Of course.” His lips curved slightly. “Like my research on human customs?”

“Exactly.” I quickened my pace. “The restaurant’s this way.”

The Renthian establishment occupied a prime spot overlooking the station’s artificial sun. Floating platforms drifted above us, each surrounded by a privacy field that shifted colors like soap bubbles.

The host - a Renthian whose bioluminescent patterns spelled out “Welcome” in six languages - led us to a platform that rose smoothly into the air.

“Your server will arrive shortly,” they said, their patterns rearranging to display the drink menu. “Please enjoy the atmospheric calibration period.”

I settled into my seat, trying not to notice how the platform’s size meant Barek sat close enough that his knee brushed mine. “So. Security plans.”

“For the Gala.” He picked up his menu, which flickered and adjusted to Vinduthi color spectrum preferences. “Professional discussion only.”

“Obviously.” I studied my own menu. “Though speaking of professional matters, I noticed you’ve acquired several new pamphlets lately.”

“Intelligence gathering.”

“Including ‘Cross-Species Dating: A Beginner’s Guide’?”

His ears twitched. “Thorough research is important.”

“Very thorough.” I took a sip of water. “The twins mentioned you’ve been asking about human courtship customs.”

“The twins talk too much.”

“It’s their job.” I glanced up to find him watching me. “Like it’s my job to notice behavioral patterns.”

“And what patterns have you noticed?”

The platform drifted higher, giving us a view of the station’s curved horizon. Stars glittered beyond the atmospheric shields. “You tell me, bounty hunter. You’re the one studying dating guides.”

He growled softly. “Bishop...”

“Yes?”

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Can’t help it. Professional hazard.” I smiled. “Like how you can’t help tracking exits and analyzing threats. Speaking of which - your left hand keeps twitching toward your belt. Hidden weapon?”

“Standard precaution.”

“Even in a civilian restaurant?”

“Especially in civilian restaurants.” He shifted, and suddenly his thigh pressed against mine. “Civilian locations are often targeted for-”

“If you say ‘classified,’ I’m ordering you the Fanaith special.”

His nose wrinkled. “The fermented seaweed dish?”

“With extra brine.”

The server - another Renthian whose patterns now displayed food specialties - arrived before he could respond. I ordered something relatively safe-sounding. Barek chose what looked like meat, carefully pronouncing the Renthian name.

“You speak Renthian?”

“Basic phrases.” He watched the server drift away. “Useful for tracking targets through different sectors.”

“And here I thought you might be trying to impress me.”

His ears twitched again. “Would that work?”

“Hypothetically?” I pretended to consider. “A man who makes an effort to learn other cultures... shows attention to detail... demonstrates hidden depths...”

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, voice low.

“Purely professional analysis, of course.”

“Of course.” His hand brushed mine as he reached for his drink. “Like my analysis of human microexpressions when discussing romantic interests.”

Heat crept up my neck. “Research?”

“Very thorough research.”

The food arrived, saving me from having to respond. My dish turned out to be some kind of glowing pasta that changed colors with temperature. Barek’s looked like standard protein cubes until he touched them with his fork - they immediately rearranged themselves into intricate patterns.

“Interactive dining,” I noted. “Very trendy.”

He prodded a cube, watching it spiral into a new shape. “Impractical.”

“But pretty.” I twirled some color-changing pasta. “Like someone I know pretending he only reads dating guides for research purposes.”

His fork paused mid-bite. “Bishop.”

“Yes?”

“Eat your glowing noodles.”

I laughed, and for a while we focused on the food. The pasta tasted better than it looked, rich with unfamiliar spices. Barek’s dish apparently passed his inspection - he ate with efficient precision, but cleaned his plate.

“Not bad,” he admitted. “Though the security setup needs work. Those privacy fields have three exploitable weaknesses.”

“Only three? You’re slipping.” I pushed my empty plate aside. “Want to explain the weak points over dessert?”

“Professional discussion only?”

“Absolutely.” I flagged down the server. “Though if you’d rather discuss chapter seven of ‘Interspecies Romance: Advanced Techniques’...”

His scowl lost any ferocity when the corner of his lips quirked up. “One dessert. Then we should-”

A crash from below cut him off. We looked down to see a Mondian couple arguing with their server, their table’s privacy field flickering.

“No bioluminescent garnish means no payment!” The larger Mondian stood, rattling nearby platforms. “False advertising!”

“Oh no,” I muttered. “Those are the ones from the speed dating disaster.”

Barek was already moving, somehow making the leap to their platform look easy. I watched him defuse the situation with surprisingly diplomatic skill, though his hand never strayed far from his weapon.

“Crisis handled,” he said when he returned to our platform. “Though we should probably leave before-”

“Before their friends arrive?” I nodded toward a group of Mondians entering the restaurant. “Good call. Back exit?”

“Service corridor.” He dropped payment on the table. “Unless you want to explain to the twins why their favorite couple got banned from another restaurant?”

“Stars, no. They’d just make another viral video about it.” I stood, steadier on the floating platform than I expected. “Though speaking of the twins...”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Something about their video series.” He guided me toward the service exit, one hand at the small of my back. “The answer is still no.”

“Not even if I have insider information about Vinduthi courtship customs?”

His steps faltered. “What information?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I grinned up at him as we emerged into a quieter section of the station. “Though if you’re not interested...”

He backed me against the corridor wall, bracing one arm above my head. “Bishop.”

“Yes?” My pulse jumped at his nearness.

“Stop playing games.”

“Never.” I reached up, fingers almost touching his chest. “It’s more fun this way.”

His free hand caught mine. “Dangerous game.”

“Please.” I shifted closer. “You’ve been studying the rules as thoroughly as I have.”

“Rules.” He lowered his head until his breath stirred my hair. “Like the ones about professional distance?”

“Exactly.” My voice wasn’t quite steady. “Though chapter seven had some interesting suggestions about cross-species contact...”

A sound like distant thunder rumbled in his chest. His lips brushed my temple, then my cheek, moving with deliberate slowness toward my mouth-

“There they are!” Risa’s voice carried down the corridor. “Quick, get the holo-cam!”

“Perfect angle for the dating series!” Rina added.

Barek pulled back with a growl that promised mayhem. The twins’ recording equipment bobbed at the far end of the corridor, their giggles echoing off the walls.

“I’m going to space them,” he muttered.

“Later.” I grabbed his collar and pulled him down to my level. “First, I’m invoking chapter seven, subsection three.”

His protest died as I kissed him. For a moment he went still, then his arms came around me and nothing else mattered. Not the twins’ delighted squeals, not the distant sound of Mondian arguing, not the station announcements in fifteen languages.

Just his scent, the way his hands tightened on my waist as I deepened the kiss.

“Wait,” he pulled back just enough to speak. “The cameras-”

“Will make excellent security footage.” I nipped his lower lip. “Very professional documentation.”

He laughed - an actual laugh, rough with disuse but real. “Minx.”

“Obviously.” I kissed him again, lighter this time. “Though if you’d prefer to discuss proper security protocols...”

“Bishop.”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

I smiled against his mouth. “Make me.”

He did.

The twins’ video went viral in three sectors, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight was for breaking all those professional rules we’d both been pretending to follow.

Though I did make a mental note to thank them for leaving those dating guides where Barek would find them.

Eventually.

After a few more lessons in cross-species contact.