Page 25 of Bounty Hunter's Match

“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.”

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