Page 15 of Stolen By the Wraiths
The moment stretched between us, loaded with possibility and danger in equal measure. Then the quarters unit chimed, announcing the arrival of our luggage, breaking the spell.
She stepped back, cheeks flushed and breathing unsteady. "That was... thorough."
"The territorial response is quite comprehensive," I managed, though my own breathing wasn't entirely steady either.
"Right. For the mission." But there was something in her eyes that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced either.
An hour later, we made our way to the Kairos Lounge. The establishment exceeded our intelligence reports in both elegance and acoustic design.
Dim lighting created intimate pockets of privacy while live music provided natural sound masking. Discrete alcoves lined the walls, each equipped with privacy screens for sensitive conversations.
I guided Alix to a central table, clear sight lines to our targets' preferred sections, my hand maintaining constant contact. The gesture felt completely natural now, an extension of the territorial claiming we'd practiced in our suite.
"Remember," I murmured as we settled into our seats, "bonded pairs maintain regular physical contact. It reinforces the chemical bond."
"Of course," she replied, leaning into my touch. "I couldn't imagine being anywhere else."
The words hit harder than they should have, carrying conviction that went beyond performance.
Our first actionable intelligence came within thirty minutes. Roth Navarro—one of Vain's primary financial coordinators—occupied a corner table, his privacy screen activated. But the man was agitated, his voice carrying just enough to be a faint murmur beneath the music.
"Can you hear that?" I asked Alix quietly.
She shook her head. "The music's masking it."
I focused, letting my Tsekai hearing filter out the ambient noise and zero in on the stressed tones coming from Navarro's table. His associates, Helena Crask and David Mueller, were leaning in, but Navarro's voice, though low, was sharp with anxiety, cutting through the lounge's carefully constructed privacy.
"The timeline's been accelerated," Navarro was saying, the words now clear to me. "Primary asset needs extraction within thirty-six hours."
I felt a spike of Alix's sharp focus through our bond as I processed the words.
"Security protocols for the facility?" Crask asked, consulting a data pad.
"Enhanced countermeasures," Navarro replied. "The subject has proven more resourceful than anticipated."
The live music shifted to a slower, more sensual melody—a perfect opportunity to discuss this and gather more. I stood and offered my hand.
"Dance with me."
Her smile was radiant, mixing genuine pleasure with professional understanding. "I'd love to."
The dance floor provided the perfect cover. I pulled her close, one hand settling on her lower back while the other captured her fingers. As we moved together, I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear as if whispering romantic promises.
"Navarro's stressed," I murmured, my breath ghosting across her skin. "He said the timeline is accelerated and the 'asset' is resourceful."
As we swayed, my hearing swept the room, picking up threads of other conversations. "To our left," I continued, "a security contractor is complaining about new facility access codes. Behind you, a Consortium logistics coordinator is arguing about shipping manifests that can't withstand official scrutiny."
"So they're moving something valuable, and they're having trouble with security," she whispered back, her body fitting perfectly against mine. "But we still don't knowwhere."
"Agreed. Crask has the details on that data pad, but we can't get to it from here." The scent of her arousal, faint but unmistakable, mixed with the territorial markers I was unconsciously broadcasting. While we swayed to the music, I allowed my possessive instincts to surface, nuzzling the sensitive skin of her neck to reinforce my scent on her. It was an act of territorial marking disguised as affection, and she shivered against me, a response that was both for the performance and entirely genuine.
"You're very convincing when you're being protective," she whispered.
"And you're perfect when you accept being claimed," I replied, the response escaping before I could censor it.
By the time the music ended, we had a clear objective and a wealth of supporting intelligence. We returned to our table, the space around us charged with a tension that had little to do with the mission.
"I'm going to freshen up," Alix murmured, her tone holding just the right note of a woman who'd been thoroughly claimed and wanted to compose herself. "And maybe get us some drinks."
