Page 14 of Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef

“I’ve had it with your obsessive nitpicking,” Icontinue, the words pouring out of me like a broken dam. “I am not some incompetent child who needs to be micromanaged. I agreed to help you, not to be bossed around and criticized for every little thing!”

Nelan’s shock quickly morphs into anger. “I’m trying to ensure everything is perfect. To keep us safe!”

“Safe from what?” I demand. “It’s a meal, Nelan, not a matter of life and death!”

“You don’t know that!” he roars, his usually composed demeanor crumbling. “You have no idea what’s at stake here. I’m doing this to protect you!”

I laugh bitterly. “Protect me? By treating me like I’m too stupid to arrange food on a plate? Some protection.”

“Yes, protect you!” Nelan insists, stepping closer. His eyes blaze with an intensity I’ve never seen before. “Because I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. Don’t you understand? I lo-“

He cuts himself off abruptly, his mouth snapping shut. But it’s too late. The unspoken word hangs in the air between us, charged and dangerous.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, chests heaving, the air crackling with tension. I search his face, looking for... I’m not even sure what. Confirmation? Denial? Some sign that I haven’t completely lost my mind?

Because, oh god, I want him to say it. I need him to say it. All this time, I’ve been in denial about everything between us. This moment here feels like life and death.

I need this.

Without conscious thought, I’m moving. My hands fist the front of his shirt, yanking him down to my level. Our lips crash together with bruising force, all the pent-up frustration and longing pouring out in a desperate, hungry kiss.

Nelan freezes for a split second before responding withequal fervor. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him as his lips move against mine. It’s not gentle or sweet. It’s raw and passionate and a little bit angry.

I nip at his lower lip, eliciting a growl that sends shivers down my spine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan at the taste of him. Spicy and alien and so, so addictive.

My hands slide up to tangle in his hair, fingertips grazing the base of his horns. Nelan shudders, his grip on me tightening almost to the point of pain. But I welcome it. I want to feel every inch of him, to brand this moment into my memory. Because some part of me knows it can’t last. Good things in my life tend to have the shelf life of a ripe avocado – blink and you miss it.

Sure enough, Nelan suddenly stiffens. He pulls back, his eyes wide and conflicted. “Laura, I... we shouldn’t...”

Reality comes crashing back, and I stumble away from him, my lips tingling and my heart pounding. What the hell did I just do? What happened to never dating again? What happened to staying away from controlling and critical men?

“I’m sorry,” Nelan says, his voice rough. “That was... inappropriate. It won’t happen again.”

I want to protest, to tell him that I don’t want his apologies. That I’d very much like it to happen again, preferably without all the yelling beforehand. But the words stick in my throat.

I want it to happen again. And that terrifies me.

We stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between us like a physical barrier. Finally, Nelan clears his throat. “We should... finish the dish. The General will be expecting his meal soon.”

I nod woodenly, turning back to the half-plated meal. My hands shake slightly as I pick up the tongs and put the finishing touches on the Gral’thok Something-or-other, carefully arranging the tentacles in that stupid spiral pattern. For once he doesn’t comment, even though my shaking limbs leave tong marks in the sauce. I’m pretty sure I’ve just ruined our culinary masterpiece, but hey, at least the tentacles are at the right angle, right?

I want to say something, anything, to break this suffocating silence. But what? “Hey, sorry I jumped you back there. Want to pretend it never happened and go back to our usual bickering?” Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to cut it.

“It’s ready,” Nelan announces.

The tentacles form a perfect spiral, their deep purple hue contrasting beautifully with the pale green Yolandi bulbs. The blood fruit reduction glistens like rubies, dotting the plate in an intricate pattern.

It looks disgusting. It’s also a work of art. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or nauseated. Maybe both?

“I guess what they say is true; we eat with our eyes first,” I say softly.

Nelan’s head does a double take. “You eat with your eyes?!”

I wave a hand absently, admiring the plate like it’s some canvas at a museum. I’m almost afraid to pick it up. “Just a saying. It means it looks good enough to eat.”

Seriously dude… he’s seen us eat before. Like… I just shake my head. Some of these aliens are so literal it’s amazing they’ve even managed to survive to adulthood. I’m starting to think idioms might be Earth’s secret weapon against alien invasion.

Nelan nods stiffly. “Let’s hope it’s sufficient.”

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