Beep-beep-beep.
The chime of his wrist computer cut through the haze.
Kirr froze. Harper flinched in his arms.
He should ignore it. Smash it against the nearest bulkhead. But the chime changed to the priority code, one that no warrior could ignore, much less a war-commander.
With a snarl of frustration, he lowered her until her boots touched the deck, though he kept a steadying arm around her waist. He flipped open the wrist unit with a sharp snap, eyes never leaving the corridor ahead.
"This had better be an invasion," he bit out at the comms.
"Commander M'Aab," the voice of Duke Kaarigan filtered out, sounding offensively calm to what was left of Kirr's patience. "The incident report flags Ms. Sawyer's access to station systems."
Kirr's jaw tightened. "Add that to the report."
"Yes, quite," the LMP head replied, his tone dry. "Her access was unauthorized and her file still lists her as a flight risk. The Program Board wants her in front of a panel. Now."
Draanth.
Kirr paced two steps, then stopped. He could pull rank, delay, make them wait. He could order Kaarigan to come to him. But Harper's file was already flagged. Forcing the bureaucrats to bend would only give them reason to push back harder when he wasn't watching.
"We are tired," he snapped. "This can wait until tomorrow."
"It cannot," Kaarigan said, his tone sharpening. "If you want her status reviewed favorably… if you want to avoid deportation proceedings for unauthorized access to empire systems, then you will bring her now. We are assembling the panel."
The link went dead.
He stared at the device, fighting the urge to rip it off his arm and crush it. Then he looked at Harper. The soft, dazed look of desire was fading, replaced by the familiar shadow of anxiety. She smoothed her hands over her rumpled clothes, her shoulders hunching.
"They'll deport me." Her voice cracked. "I—I was in the core. I touched systems I wasn't supposed to."
"You fixed the core." Kirr tipped her chin up with two fingers. "And you did it on my orders. My authority. I don’t know what draanthing snit Kaarigan’s in, but this is not your fault."
"But—"
"No buts." He ran his thumb over her lower lip, still swollen. The frustration of being denied burned in his gut, but beneath it was a colder resolve. He couldn't take her to bed while this threat hung over her head. He couldn't claim her fully while she was terrified the LMP would snatch her away.
He had to clear the board.
"We go," Kirr said, his voice dropping into the tone he used before battle. "We walk in there, we shove your brilliance down their throats, and we force them to clear your record."
"If they're looking for someone to punish, it's me." Her chin lifted, stubborn despite the tremor in her voice. "Not you. Don't throw yourself under the bus for me."
"One, I have no idea what a bus is or why I would throw myself under it. And two. That's not how this works."
"And then?" she asked, wariness threading through the hope. "They don't put me on a transport?"
He stepped in close, pressing his hips against hers so she could feel exactly how much this delay was costing him. His hand slid down her spine, resting low and possessive on the curve of her back.
"Then you're coming with me." His mouth brushed her ear; his hand tightened at her lower back, pinning her to his decision. "And I don't stop."
She shivered against him. It was enough to keep him sane.
"Okay. Let's get this over with," she murmured.
He turned her toward the exit but didn't take his hand from the small of her back. He guided her through the command center, past the watching crew. He walked with his head high, every line of him a warning.
Look at her with respect. Keep your distance. She is mine.
