Page 8 of Bounty Hunter’s Match (Vinduthi Captured Mates #6)

BAREK

T he main entrance’s security scanner crackled as another guest passed through. I kept my attention split between the readouts and the growing crowd in the reception area. Three exits. Two maintenance hatches. Multiple species with varying biological signatures.

A Nexian trade delegation argued with their formal wear’s built-in calculators, their sensory filaments twitching as they debated proper gift-giving algorithms. Two Fanaith merchants attempted to navigate the buffet without shorting out their environmental suits. A cluster of Poraki had discovered the fountain and were debating its potential as a courtship display arena.

“No swimming,” I announced before they could test their theory.

“But the twins’ cultural guide suggested water features are romantic!” one protested, already half-submerged.

“Different guide. Different species. Out.”

This was…normal enough.

No obvious threats beyond the usual social chaos.

Until Camden walked in.

Her dress caught the light from the floating displays, drawing attention to curves usually hidden under practical business wear. The bodice hugged her torso before flaring into layers that moved like smoke when she walked.

The fabric shifted colors with her movements, something the twins had definitely engineered for maximum impact. Strategic panels hugged curves I’d been pretending not to notice for weeks.

My hands tightened on the scanner controls.

“Excellent craftsmanship.” MIRA’s crystals shimmered with a too-pleased gleam. “The structural integrity adaptations are particularly elegant.”

“Focus on the security scans.” But my gaze followed Camden as she moved through the crowd, greeting guests with practiced grace.

The readouts showed nothing dangerous. Unless you counted how Camden smiled at a passing diplomat, or the way she gestured when explaining something to a confused Fanaith, or how she kept finding excuses to drift past my position. Which I wasn’t counting. Obviously.

“Multi-tasking is one of my primary functions,” MIRA chirped. “As is noting that your body temperature increases by approximately 2.3 degrees whenever Ms. Bishop-”

“Quiet.”

A Mondian couple stumbled through the scanner, their reinforced dancing gear setting off multiple alarms. The female’s elaborate headpiece scraped the ceiling.

“But the invitation said formal wear!” She adjusted her chest plate, narrowly missing her partner’s head with a spiked elbow guard. “We brought padding for the floor this time!”

“The padding is not the issue.” I reset the scanner. “Remove the retractable blades.”

“But they’re decorative!”

“Out.” I pointed to the weapons check station. “Now.”

They shuffled away, armor plates grinding. Behind them, a group of Sylphids attempted to maintain solid form long enough for the scan. Their borrowed finery kept phasing through their bodies.

“Perhaps if we adjusted our molecular density?” One suggested, half their outfit drifting toward the ceiling. “The handbook mentioned something about proper fit...”

“Those handbooks need burning,” I muttered.

“Proper documentation is crucial for cross-cultural events!” Risa’s voice drifted down from her recording perch. “Speaking of documentation, that’s a very flattering angle on your-”

“No cameras at security checkpoints.”

“But the lighting is perfect! And when Camden walks past-”

“What about Camden?”

The woman herself appeared at my elbow, and my heart jumped. “Are the twins causing trouble again?”

“Always.” I shifted to block another guest’s view of how her dress clung to her hips. “The Mondians brought weapons.”

“Decorative weapons!” The female called from the check station. “Very romantic!”

“See?” Camden smiled up at me. “They’re embracing the spirit of the holiday.”

“The spirit involves stabbing?”

“On some planets.” She brushed invisible dust from my shoulder. “You’re supposed to be mingling, not hiding behind the scanner.”

“Security position.”

“Strategic social observation position.” Her fingers lingered near my collar. “Come help me with Vask’s grand entrance. He’s attempting some sort of traditional Earth ceremony.”

“No.”

“Please?” She stepped closer, filling my senses. “For professional reasons?”

I growled. “That’s cheating.”

“Always.” Her smile held promise. “Coming?”

Following her into the crowd was suicide. Too many variables. Too many threats. Too many witnesses to how her presence affected my control.

I followed anyway.

The main ballroom sprawled before us, atmosphere barriers creating distinct zones for different species’ comfort levels. Floating platforms carried aerial guests between social clusters. Vask held court near the center, surrounded by animated holograms depicting what he probably thought were Earth courtship rituals.

“The original Valentine celebration involved ritual combat!” He announced to his growing audience. “I have prepared appropriate challenges!”

“That’s not-” Camden started forward, but I caught her arm.

“Wait.”

A Selenthian diplomat glided through the crowd, her silvery skin shimmering with subtle patterns that matched Vask’s chosen formal wear - whether by coincidence or MIRA’s atmospheric manipulations.

“How fascinating.” She circled Vask’s display, her bioluminescent markings pulsing with interest. “Though I believe you’ve confused several historical periods.”

“I... what?” He deflated slightly. “But the research...”

“Included partially translated references to knights and courtly love, I assume?” Her skin rippled with amusement. “An understandable mistake. Though the actual traditions are far more interesting.”

“They are?”

“Indeed.” She settled onto a nearby float platform. “I’d be happy to explain... unless you’d prefer to continue with the combat demonstrations?”

“No! I mean...” He scrambled to join her. “Please, tell me more about these traditions.”

“Well done.” Camden leaned back against my chest, watching them drift toward a quieter corner. “Though I suspect MIRA helped with the timing.”

“And the atmosphere controls.” The air around the couple shimmered with complementary environmental settings. “Subtle.”

“Unlike some people’s security positions.” She turned to face me. “Speaking of positions...”

A crash from the dance floor interrupted whatever dangerous suggestion she’d been about to make. A Lyrikan couple had escaped weapons check with what they insisted were “traditional courtship accessories.”

“Time to work.” Camden straightened my vest again, unnecessary but dangerous. “Try to minimize property damage?”

“No promises.”

My fingers tangled with her’s before she could step away. Just for a moment. Just long enough to feel her pulse jump.

“Bishop.”

“Yes?”

“That dress...”

“Security approved.” Her lips curved. “I checked the regulations very carefully.”

“That’s not-”

“You can inspect the modifications later.” She slipped away before I could respond. “Professionally.”

I watched her disappear into the crowd, already cataloging quiet corners with working privacy fields. For security purposes.

Professional ones.

“Oh my!” Madame Hara materialized beside me, tentacles curling with delight. “The way she challenges his control! The building passion beneath that stoic exterior! Chapter three practically writes itself...”

I left before she could start dictating. But her words followed me through the crowd, mixing with memories of Camden’s scent, her smile, the way that dress...

Professional thoughts. Focus on security. Maintain distance.

Even if distance was the last thing I wanted.

A string of explosions from the dance floor saved me from that dangerous line of thinking. The Mondians had discovered the interactive light displays.

“It’s a traditional Earth light show!” one called out, their reinforced boots creating sparks with each enthusiastic stomp. “The twins’ guide mentioned something about ‘fireworks’!”

“That’s not-” I started, but another couple had already joined in, their synchronized movements sending cascades of sparks across the floor.

“Look!” The female pointed excitedly. “We’re creating patterns! Very romantic!”

“The patterns are burning holes in the-” But they’d already started what appeared to be their version of a waltz, complete with electromagnetic pulses.

Time to work.

But Camden caught my eye across the room, and for a moment I forgot about duty.

About boundaries.

About focusing on the potential electrical hazards, not how she bit her lip when concentrating, or how her dress caught the sparks like stars...

Another explosion snapped me back to security mode. But the warmth in her gaze lingered, promising later conversations in less public spaces.

Professional ones, of course.

The night stretched ahead, full of potential disasters and diplomatic incidents. But watching Camden work the room, seeing her in her element...

Worth every moment of chaos.

Even if we never got to test those privacy fields.

Professionally.