Page 7 of Bounty Hunter’s Match (Vinduthi Captured Mates #6)

CAMDEN

T he next morning I arrived early at Perfect Match, hoping for a few quiet moments to review the Gala preparations. Instead, my heart stumbled at the sight of Barek bent over floor plans at my desk, his broad shoulders filling out that black tactical gear in ways that made focusing difficult. Morning light from the artificial sun caught the red markings trailing down his neck, drawing my eye along their path before I caught myself.

“Security review.” He didn’t look up, but I felt his attention shift to track my movement across the room. “The Mondian delegation requires additional reinforcement in sections three and seven.”

“Of course they do.” I dropped my bag, pretending I didn’t notice the new dating guide tucked into his belt. “Though perhaps if we stopped calling it ‘reinforcement’ and started calling it ‘cultural accommodation’...”

“They broke three chairs yesterday.”

“They expressed enthusiasm for the venue’s interactive features.”

He snorted, finally looking up. The intensity in those red eyes still hit me like a physical thing, even after weeks. “Is that what we’re calling property damage now?”

“We’re calling it ‘relationship building through shared experiences.’” I leaned against the desk, closer than strictly necessary. “Speaking of building relationships...”

MIRA’s crystals chimed before he could respond. “Staff meeting in two minutes. Current guest compatibility matrices calculating.”

Right. Work.

Even if Barek’s scent - something like leather and weapon oil - made maintaining that distance increasingly challenging.

“Morning!” Risa called from her corner. “We have excellent footage from yesterday’s venue inspection-”

“No.” Barek straightened, putting careful space between us.

“But the lighting was perfect! And when you caught during the anti-grav malfunction-”

“Weather report!” I shouted before she continued. “MIRA?”

“Environmental controls stable across all sectors.” MIRA’s holographic display filled the center of the room. “Though I’m noting some interesting correlations between atmospheric pressure and certain behavioral patterns...”

“Guest layouts.” I recognized the gleam in her crystals. “Focus on guest layouts.”

“The atmospheric controls in section four show interesting fluctuations,” MIRA continued, projecting a new diagram. “Particularly when certain security personnel pass through.”

“Maintaining optimal conditions,” Barek muttered.

“Oh yes,” MIRA’s crystals sparkled. “The temperature does rise notably in your vicinity. Though perhaps not due to the environmental systems...”

“Can we focus on the actual preparations?” I tried to sound professional, ignoring how the twins were frantically recording this exchange.

“We are!” Risa protested. “Temperature variation is very important for cross-species comfort. Like how Vinduthi run warmer than humans, especially during moments of emotional-”

“Next topic,” Barek growled, but his ears gave him away.

“Of course.” But her tone held entirely too much amusement as she projected seating arrangements. “Current compatibility matrices suggest optimal placement would group similar phenotypes, though certain exceptions might prove... interesting.”

“Interesting how?” Madame Hara drifted in, tentacles already curling around her datapad. “Do tell.”

“Well.” You could imagine MIRA’s eyebrow arching. If she had eyebrows. Or eyes. “Statistical analysis shows a 98.7% compatibility rate for certain present parties...”

“Really?” Rina perked up. “Would those parties happen to include-”

“Security positions.” Barek moved to study the layout, accidentally-on-purpose knocking the projection slightly off-center. “We need clear sight lines to all exits.”

“Among other things,” Risa muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Though speaking of clear views...” She tapped something on her pad. Footage from the restaurant incident filled the air between us.

I watched myself pull Barek down for that kiss, heat climbing up my neck. He growled, the sound doing nothing to cool my blood.

“Lighting test!” I grabbed for the controls. “Don’t we need to test the lighting?”

“Oh yes.” MIRA cycled through settings, lingering on what she probably thought were romantic options. “The ambiance is crucial for encouraging... social interaction.”

“Social-” The dating guide slipped from Barek’s belt, landing with a soft thump. “That’s not...”

“‘Chapter Seven: Physical Expression of Emotional Connection.’” Rina read upside-down from her perch. “Very thorough research!”

“I’m leaving.” But he caught my eye before turning, and the heat there made my breath catch.

“Excellent idea!” Madame Hara’s tentacles rippled with excitement. “The venue inspection requires multiple perspectives. For security purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” I gathered my notes, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Strictly professional.”

“Absolutely.” She arched a brow. “Perhaps you’ll let me document the... inspection process. For my next novel.”

“No.”

“But the dramatic potential! The stolen glances across crowded rooms, the brush of hands while checking equipment...”

“We’re leaving now.” Barek held the door, carefully not looking at the footage still playing above my desk. “Bishop?”

I hurried out before the twins could start analyzing our ‘behavioral patterns’ again. Though I did hear Madame Hara dictating something about “passion burning hotter than a quantum core” as the door closed.

The station’s grand ballroom sprawled before us, soaring ceilings dotted with environmental control panels. Floating platforms drifted through the room, designed to accommodate aerial species during the celebration. Shimmering privacy screens marked off diplomatic areas, their forcefield generators humming softly.

“The twins added ‘mood lighting’ to section six,” I noted, checking my pad. “And apparently programmed it to activate whenever certain biological signatures are detected in close proximity.”

“Disabled it this morning.” Barek’s hand brushed my back again, steadying me over a cable. “Security risk.”

“The lighting?”

“The twins’ definition of ‘mood.’”

“It was very tasteful!” Risa’s voice echoed from somewhere in the ventilation system. “Just a subtle enhancement whenever you two-”

A panel in the ceiling creaked ominously as Barek glared up at it.

“Running diagnostics elsewhere!” Rina announced quickly. “Many other sections to calibrate!”

“Far away sections,” Risa agreed. “With less threatening security personnel...”

Focus. I could do that.

“The Sylphid delegation requested additional atmosphere bubbles.” I consulted my pad, trying to focus on work instead of how Barek’s presence filled the space behind me. “Something about optimal phase-shifting conditions...”

“No phase-shifting.” His hand brushed my lower back as he guided me around a tangle of cables. “Security risk.”

“Everything’s a security risk to you.”

“Yes.” But his touch lingered longer than necessary. “Especially matchmakers who don’t watch where they’re walking.”

“I was watching!” Just... not my feet.

A distant crash interrupted whatever he might have said. We turned to find a Mondian couple testing the ‘reinforced’dance floor, their enthusiasm already creating visible stress patterns in the material.

“Cultural exchange!” The female called out cheerfully. “We are practicing your Earth waltz!”

“That’s not...” I winced as another section buckled. “Maybe we should start with something less... vigorous?”

“But the spinning is traditional, yes?” Her partner executed what he probably thought was a gentle turn. The floor groaned. “We have been studying your customs!”

“Studying from what source?” Barek moved closer, one hand settling on my hip. For stability, obviously.

“The twins’ video series!” The male beamed. “Most educational.”

“I’m going to space those two,” Barek muttered against my hair.

“After we fix the floor.” I leaned back slightly, just enough to feel the solid warmth of him. “Professional priorities.”

His grip tightened. “Bishop...”

“Yes?”

“The Sylphids are testing the anti-grav controls.”

“And?”

“They’re about to-”

The artificial gravity flickered. I stumbled as my feet left the ground, but Barek’s arm caught me around the waist. We drifted together, his body curving around mine as he anchored us against a support column.

“Thanks.” I turned in his hold, meaning to step away. Instead I found myself pressed against his chest, his scent surrounding me. “I should...”

“Check the controls.” But he didn’t let go. “Professionally.”

“Right.” I curled my fingers into his vest. “Very professional.”

“Absolutely perfect!” Madame Hara’s voice shattered the moment. “Though perhaps if the warrior’s hand slipped lower...”

“No.” Barek set me carefully on my feet as gravity reasserted itself. “We have work.”

But his touch lingered, and when he finally moved away I had to take a moment to steady my breathing.

Professional. We were being professional.

Even if his heat still burned against my skin.