Page 13 of Stripe for the Picking (Paranormal Dating Agency #92)
ELEVEN
WREN
W ren adjusted her green blouse and checked her ponytail in the reflection of the coffee shop window before pushing through the glass doors.
The morning bustle of Defense Nexus personnel grabbing their caffeine fixes created a comfortable hum of conversation, but her mind remained fixed on yesterday's abrupt dismissal.
Forty-eight hours on an alien planet and I'm already getting the professional cold shoulder from Rylan.
She ordered her usual caramel latte, her fingers drumming against the counter as frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior.
Yesterday had been going so well—they'd uncovered compelling evidence linking Arvox to the cyber attacks, working in perfect synchronization like they'd been partners for years.
Then Rylan had basically told her to run along and play tourist.
And pawned me off on his mentor like I was some kind of inconvenience to him.
Not that General Kael hadn't been absolutely delightful company.
The man was hilarious, regaling her with stories about Rylan's early days as a rookie officer while showing her the floating markets and crystal falls.
Kael's warmth and genuine care for Wren had been obvious, but it still stung that Rylan hadn't wanted to share those moments with her himself.
One minute we're dancing at the Council dinner, the next he's treating me like a stranger.
The elevator ride to their floor felt longer than usual, anticipation and uncertainty warring in her chest. She had no idea which version of Rylan she'd encounter today—the warm, protective man who'd held her close on the boardwalk, or the distant commander who'd dismissed her like an unwanted distraction.
As the doors slid open, she squared her shoulders and walked toward their adjacent workstations.
Rylan was already there, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black t-shirt in ways that made her pulse quicken despite her irritation.
His tactical pants and combat boots completed the look of dangerous authority that never failed to make her stomach flutter.
Focus, Wren. Professional distance, remember?
"Good morning," she said carefully, setting her coffee down and reaching for her console.
"You're coming with me. Right now."
Wren blinked, her hand freezing midway to the holographic interface. "Excuse me? I need to log in and check the overnight security reports," she said, gesturing toward her workstation. "Make sure no new attacks?—"
"Already handled." His tone was clipped and authoritative. "Everything's secure. No new breaches. The countermeasures from two days ago seem to have completely thrown the syndicate off their game."
She studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, and the way his fingers drummed against his thigh. Something had shifted overnight, but she couldn't read what.
"Don't you still want to be my partner in the Protocol Trials?"
The question caught her off guard. "Yes, of course I do. But do you still want me to be your partner?"
His head snapped toward her, his blue eyes blazing. "I wouldn't want anyone else."
The conviction in his deep voice sent heat flooding through her chest. This was definitely the warm version of Rylan, but there was something more—an urgency she hadn't seen before.
"We only have three days until the opening ceremony," he continued, standing and moving around his workstation. "I want to show you the arena. The control command center. You need to familiarize yourself with everything."
Excitement bubbled up despite her lingering confusion. "The actual arena? Where the Trials happen?"
"The very same." A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Think you can handle controlling a simulation that determines Nova Aurora's leadership roles?"
"Please. I've been gaming since I could hold a controller." She grabbed her coffee and fell into step beside him. "Try to keep up, Commander."
His low chuckle sent shivers through her body as they entered the elevator. When he pressed the button for the basement level, her anticipation spiked.
"How far down does this thing go?" she asked as the floors ticked by.
"Far enough to house something you've never imagined."
The elevator finally stopped, and when the doors opened, Wren's jaw dropped.
The command center stretched before them like something NASA would design if they had unlimited funding and access to technology from a century in the future.
Holographic displays floated at varying heights, casting blue and gold light across banks of controls that looked more like art installations than functional equipment.
"Holy shit," she breathed, then caught herself. "Sorry, I meant?—"
"No, that's the appropriate response."
In the center of the vast space, a transparent barrier surrounded what had to be the arena—a circular expanse currently configured as a neutral gray surface, but she could see the potential humming beneath its calm exterior.
"This is where it all happens," Rylan said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Three rounds over three days. Physical challenges, tactical scenarios, and environmental hazards all controlled from up here."
Wren’s fingers itched to explore the controls and test out the simulation. "And I get to manipulate all of it? The arena, the obstacles, and provide tactical support?"
"Everything." He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cedar scent. "Think you're up for it?"
The challenge in his voice made something fierce and competitive spark to life in her. "Rylan, you have no idea what you've just unleashed."
Rylan guided Wren to an elevated platform that housed the most sophisticated control station she'd ever laid eyes on. The interface curved in a graceful arc around a central chair, holographic displays floating at perfect eye level while tactile controls gleamed under the ambient lighting.
"This is your command center," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. "Every environmental variable, every challenge, every safety protocol runs through here."
Wren settled into the ergonomic chair, her fingers hovering over the luminescent controls. The setup was intuitive yet complex—exactly the kind of system that made her pulse race with anticipation.
"The primary interface controls terrain modification," Rylan explained, standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his muscular frame. "Weather patterns, wildlife deployment, obstacle generation—all at your fingertips."
He reached around her to activate the main display, his arm brushing against hers. The contact sent sparks shooting through her body, but she forced herself to focus as the arena came to life before them.
Oh my God.
The simulated landscape took her breath away.
Jagged yellow mountains pierced a lavender sky while lush purple forests carpeted rolling hills.
Crystal-clear lakes reflected twin suns, their surfaces rippling with programmed wind patterns.
Rivers snaked through valleys with such realistic detail that Wren had to remind herself this was all holographic projection.
"It's beautiful," she breathed, leaning forward to study the intricate ecosystem. "How is this even possible?"
"Nova Aurora's most advanced simulation technology," Rylan said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "The arena can replicate any environment, any weather condition, any threat scenario."
Wren's hands moved to the variable controls without conscious thought, her mind already mapping the system's potential. When she adjusted the weather parameters, storm clouds gathered over the eastern mountains. A twist of another dial released a pack of holographic wolves into the forest canopy.
"This is incredible," she whispered, watching the wolves move with startling realism through the purple trees. "It's like having my own world to control."
Earth definitely doesn't have anything like this.
Sure, she'd played virtual reality games that were impressive by terrestrial standards, but this transcended anything she'd imagined possible. The arena wasn't just a simulation—it was a fully interactive environment where real consequences awaited real mistakes.
"Now you understand why partnership can be so crucial," Rylan said, moving toward a weapons rack. "The controller has as much influence on success as the competitor."
He selected a tactical earpiece and fit it snugly against his ear. The device was nearly invisible, designed for maximum mobility without sacrificing communication clarity.
"This is our lifeline," he explained, testing the connection. "When I'm in the arena, you're my eyes, my tactical advisor, and my early warning system."
Wren adjusted her own earpiece, marveling at how the advanced technology felt weightless against her skin. "Can you hear me clearly?"
"Crystal clear." His voice came through with perfect fidelity. "I'm heading down to the arena floor. Don't activate anything until I give the all-clear."
She watched him stride toward the arena entrance, every step radiating the controlled power of a predator. His t-shirt emphasized the broad planes of his back and the tapered strength of his waist, while his tactical pants clung to his thighs that spoke of countless hours of physical training.
When Rylan stepped through the barrier, the transformation was instantaneous. The neutral gray surface became solid ground beneath his combat boots, the holographic landscape taking on tangible reality within the arena's boundaries.
"Arena active," his voice crackled through the comm. "Beginning basic navigation test."
"Copy that," Wren replied, her fingers exploring the environmental controls. "Creating initial weather pattern."
She summoned a gentle breeze that stirred the purple forest leaves, then added a light mist that clung to the mountain peaks. Through her displays, she could see Rylan moving with fluid grace across the terrain, his athletic form adapting to each environmental shift.