Page 11 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
His gaze locks on the blood at my mouth, the tear at the collar of my blouse, the tremble in my fingers that I can’t quite stop.
“Ruby…”
His voice is ragged. Like it’s been dragged over fire.
I can’t speak. Not yet.
All I can do is breathe—ragged, shallow, caught somewhere between horror and awe.
Because I’ve never seen him like this.
And I’ve never, ever felt safer.
His fists drip, dark and wet, rivulets of blood sliding down the curve of his knuckles like a second skin. His breathing comes hard, fast, chest expanding beneath scaled armor that glistens under the alley’s fractured light. That cybernetic eye still glows, pulsing low like a warning beacon. But the rest of his face—gods, his face—has crumpled into something close to panic.
“Rekkgar?” My voice scrapes out, half-breath, half-whimper.
He flinches like I’ve hit him. And then—he’s gone.
Just… gone.
Turns on his heel without a word, disappears into the blur of dusk like the street swallowed him whole. The air still buzzes with the echoes of violence, but he leaves behind only silence and the sound of my ragged breath.
“Wait—!” I choke the word out, stumble a step after him. But he’s already melted into shadow, into memory, into whatever place he hides that ferocity from the world.
I’m alone.
I stagger toward the side door, fumbling with the keypad. The screen blurs. Not from malfunction, but from the sting of tears that I didn’t realize had welled. My lip throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat. Metallic tang floods my mouth. But it’s not the pain that’s shaking me. It’s something else. Something much deeper.
I make it inside, slam the door behind me, thumb the manual lock, and then slide down until I hit the cold tile floor. The satchel of credits topples beside me, forgotten.
The room spins for a moment. Fluorescents overhead buzz. Everything feels too bright. Too still.
I touch my lip and hiss.
“Shit.” The word’s small and useless, but it’s all I’ve got. That hit was no joke. I’ll bruise—hell, I might need stitches. I wipe my mouth with the hem of my shirt and stare at the blotch of red left behind. The fabric shakes in my hand.
And yet.
I close my eyes. Replay the moment. That first sound—the way he roared, the way the pavement cracked beneath his feet, the velocity of his rage. The precision of his strikes. Brutal, yes. But measured. Controlled, even in the chaos. He didn’t just fight—hepunished.
He annihilated those bastards.
For me.
My hand drifts to my chest, curling over my heart as if I can calm its frantic hammering. But it’s not fear that beats there. It’s something hotter. Wilder. My body’s still keyed up, but not in panic. It’s heat. Desire. Recognition.
That side of him… the one he hides behind monosyllables and espresso orders… it’s not monstrous.
It’smagnificent.
I’ve always known Rekkgar was dangerous. You don’t walk around seven feet tall with a cybernetic eye and a body built like a shock tank and not drip menace. But I never saw that side of him turnedloose.Never saw the fire behind his control, the violence that lives in his bones.
And gods help me, I liked it.
A lot.
Too much.
