Page 9 of Bounty Hunter’s Match (Vinduthi Captured Mates #6)

CAMDEN

T he Mondians’ “fireworks dance” lit up the reception hall in bursts of blue-white sparks. I winced as another shower of sparks cascaded across the dance floor, leaving scorch marks in their wake. The couple’s reinforced boots struck the floor perfectly in sync, each impact releasing more electrical discharge.

“Just like Earth traditions!” The female Mondian’s chest plate scraped against her partner’s shoulder guards as they spun. “Though perhaps with more explosions?”

“Absolutely not.” I stepped forward to intervene, but movement at the edge of my vision caught my attention. Barek had shifted position, angling for a clearer line of sight to my location while maintaining his watch over the main entrance. His red eyes met mine across the crowd, and my pulse jumped.

Focus. I had a diplomatic crisis to manage.

“The traditional Earth fireworks display is actually a separate event,” I explained to the enthusiastic couple. “One that takes place outdoors, with proper safety protocols.”

“But the guide said-”

“Those guides need serious editing.” I made a mental note to review the twins’ latest cultural exchange videos. “Perhaps we could explore some alternative expressions of your... enthusiasm?”

Before I could redirect them, a soft hum rose from beneath the floor. A dozen cleaning drones rolled into the hall, their spherical bodies gleaming as they scanned the scorch marks. One emitted a cheerful chirp before projecting a holographic message: “Unscheduled cleanup initiated. Please remain stationary for optimal results.”

“What’s happening?” The male Mondian tilted his head as the first drone sprayed a jet of solvent at their boots.

“The sparks must’ve triggered the station’s automated cleaning protocols,” I muttered, watching in horror as more drones swarmed the area. “And they think you’re the mess.”

The drones’ scrubbers whirred to life, their mechanical arms extending to polish everything within reach. Guests yelped as sprays of cleaning foam coated their shoes, dresses, and even exposed skin. A Sylphid’s translucent form shimmered as a drone attempted to buff them to a shine.

“Stop this madness!” someone shouted, but the drones’ programming ignored manual commands.

A Mondian’s sparks collided with a foam spray, producing an alarming hiss of smoke. Barek was suddenly at my side, his tall frame looming protectively as he assessed the chaos.

“They’re multiplying,” he said flatly, pointing to a hatch where more drones emerged, their optical sensors locking onto a spilled drink. “How do we stop them?”

“Override the system,” I said, already moving toward the maintenance console. “Can you…?”

“Cover you? Always.” His tone was steady, but his hand briefly brushed my lower back, sending a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the sparks flying around us.

As I crouched by the console, a drone beeped and sprayed foam dangerously close to my face. Barek kicked it aside with a single, efficient motion, the impact sending it spinning harmlessly toward the fountain.

“Careful,” he muttered.

“Working on it,” I replied, pulling up the override menu. “The cleaning system’s AI is in reactive mode. It thinks the entire ballroom is contaminated.”

“It’s about to be if this keeps up.” He pivoted to block another drone, his movements precise and unbothered despite the growing chaos.

Behind us, the Poraki had turned the fountain into an impromptu musical instrument again. Their webbed hands struck the water in complex patterns, creating haunting harmonies that resonated through the hall. Unfortunately, the vibrations only drew more drones, which interpreted the splashes as spills and began spraying water-absorbing gel.

“A traditional courtship symphony!” one of the Poraki announced proudly. “Very romantic!”

“Not helping,” I snapped, wiping foam off my datapad.

The Mondians, now frosted with a layer of foam, seemed to take it as a challenge. “Perhaps our sparks can counteract the substance!” the female suggested.

“No more sparks!” I shouted.

“Override command accepted,” the maintenance console announced, finally responding to my inputs. The drones paused, their cleaning arms retracting as they powered down one by one.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the hall, only to be interrupted by a Poraki’s delighted exclamation. “The acoustics are even better now! Observe how the gel enhances the resonance…”

Barek’s hand on my shoulder steadied me as I rose. “You handled that well.”

“If by ‘well,’ you mean barely avoided total disaster,” I muttered, brushing foam from my dress.

“Disaster is relative,” he said, his lips twitching in the closest thing to a smile I’d seen all evening. “Though I’d recommend banning cultural exchange videos.”

“Or at least vetting them better.” I glanced around the hall. Guests were still dripping foam and water, but the mood had lightened, laughter replacing panic. Even the Sylphids seemed amused as they phased in and out of the remnants of the foam clouds.

“Next time, I’m banning pyrotechnics,” I said. “And drones.”

“Bold plan.” Barek’s hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back. “But effective.”

A Poraki popped up beside us, their webbed fingers dripping with water. “Your teamwork was impressive! The twins’ guide suggested intimate collaboration fosters relationship development…”

“Out,” Barek growled, his deep voice vibrating through me.

The Poraki’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh, commanding! Very promising!” They scurried off before either of us could respond.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Think they’ll put this in the next cultural exchange video?”

“Undoubtedly,” Barek replied, his tone dry. “I’ll make sure to watch it.”