21. J’orn
21
J’ORN
J’orn cursed himself as he walked rapidly down the hallway.
Gods, how stupid can you be? Why did you tell her how you felt—how you wanted her?
He could still taste Kara’s flavor on his lips—her honey was sweet and salty and utterly addictive. And he was damn sure he would never get to taste it again.
“Fuck!” he swore out loud, curling his hands into fists. Why was she so hung up on their age difference? Couldn’t she see that it didn’t matter to him? For the Kindred, getting a Mature Elite for a mate was like winning a prize—almost like winning the lottery!
But it seemed he wasn’t going to be one of those lucky warriors who could claim such a woman as his mate because Kara refused to see how much he truly cared for her. She thought he would leave her for a younger woman—if only she understood how a Soul Bond worked! If only?—
He was jerked out of his frustrated thoughts when the long-range communicator he had clipped beneath his robe went off.
Looking around for a safe space to speak, J’orn found a small closet where cleaning supplies were stored. He ducked inside and closed the door. When he was sure he was alone, he reached under the long green robe and pulled the com out.
It was small and thin and flat—anyone who didn’t look too closely would think it was a silver coin. J’orn held it in the palm of his hand and pressed the tiny button on its side. At once, a small holo-image—no larger than his hand—appeared.
“Agent J’orn?”
It was Commander Sylvan, his boss, and the Head of the Kindred High Council. He was Blood Kindred with short, spiky blond hair and two double sets of fangs where a human’s canine teeth would be. Even in the holo image, J’orn could tell he was worried.
“Yes, Commander—I’m here,” he said, nodding. “What can I do for you?”
“How close are you to finding the kidnappers?” Sylvan asked him. “I know you haven’t been there long, but do you have any clues at all?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m at the Fem Lovely Resort—I spoke to a source who claimed one of the main kidnappers is working from here,” J’orn told him. “Why? Has something happened?”
“I’m afraid so—The Torsian Ambassador’s wife has gone missing,” Sylvan said. “She was last seen at a nightclub by the shuttle station called The Midnight Lounge. I need you to go investigate immediately—we need to get her back before anything happens to her!”
J’orn nodded—he knew how important it was to keep good relations with the Torsians . They controlled the only access to the opening to an alternate universe which had to be guarded at all times. Also, he felt the same as he knew Commander Sylvan did—that all female life was precious. Even if the missing woman hadn’t been the wife of a prominent ambassador, he would have wanted to get her back unharmed and intact.
“Got it, Commander,” he said. “I’ll go right away.”
“Thank you—I’ll tell the Ambassador that I have an agent looking for her,” Sylvan told him. “Good luck and may the Goddess guide you. Let me know the minute you find anything out.”
“I will, Commander. J’orn out.”
J’orn thumbed the tiny button on the projector and the holo winked out of existence. He knew he had to get over to The Midnight Lounge immediately.
But before he left, he had to give a warning and take some precautions.