Page 74 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
Aelphus’s voice rasps into the silence: “Come. The station is mine now—and so you shall be. For the bond of destiny is stronger than any mortal contract.”
I place my dark-scaled hand over Ruby’s. My voice draws through trembling steel: “Youaremine.” My words puncture the hush. “Only mine.”
Ruby breathes out, lips quivering. “Rekkgar, I?—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything. Just follow me.”
Together, we step off the prep island. The floor rumbles. Staff scramble to barricade off cameras and silence feeds. I guide Ruby through side corridors—away from spotlight, glare, coercion.
But Aelphus’s voice trails after us, cold and intent: “You can run, warrior, but sheisn’t yoursto cage.”
I don’t respond. I swallow that claim and let resolve harden inside me.
In the hush of the backstage labyrinth, I pull Ruby close. The din fades to distant echoes of alarms. She trembles. Tears glitter in her lashes.
“You’re safe with me,” I whisper. “I won’t let him break us.”
Ruby wraps her arms around me—claws and scales and flesh pressed tight. “Promise me,” she whispers, voice brittle but resolute. “Promise.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “I swear it on my soul.” My voice is two tones: steel and prayer.
And with that vow, the lights flicker again—enough to send staff scurrying—and we stand ready. The stage is beyond the corridor, but our battle is born.
We will fight for her soul.
And if the final round becomes a battlefield… we will stand, blade in one hand, heart in the other, unshakeable, unstoppable.
CHAPTER 17
RUBY
Istare at the gleaming armor of the Vortaxian guards flanking Emperor Aelphus as dread coils in my chest. What starts as a weird showbiz stunt morphs into something primal in seconds. My fingers tighten around Rekkgar’s, and I feel his heartbeat—solid and fierce—against my palm.
“No need to panic,” Aelphus’s voice cascades through the Holonet feed, smooth as molten gold. “All exits are locked. This station is sealed—for the protection of my future queen.” My breath catches at the words. My. Future. Queen. My blood surges. I try to swallow back fear, but my throat feels raw.
I take an involuntary step back—toward Rekkgar’s rock of muscle and devotion. Instinct usurps disbelief. He squeezes my hand once, hard and unyielding, a silent anchor in this swirling storm.
Aelphus’s voice, both velvet and venom, crescendos. “Ruby Adams, step forward.” He calls me by my real name—not the stage persona, not even my bakery name. Relief and terror stumble through me in tandem. The audience gasps; anxious murmurs ripple through the amphitheater.
I don’t move. Instead, I glance at Rekkgar. His jaw is set, his eyes dark stars of fury under obsidian brow. He’s my shield.
Before I can gather myself, Rekkgar steps forward like a drawn blade. He casts a glance at me, urging calm, control. His voice rumbles low, unwavering: “She is spoken for.”
Aelphus tilts his head, expression amused. “You may believe that. But bonds forged in delusion can be undone.” His confidence is a flare in the dim room.
My heart accelerates. I whisper into Rekkgar’s shirt, voice quaking: “We need to escape.”
He inclines his head in that silent nod that once launched us into stolen kisses and now ignites silent rebellion. We start moving backward, close and methodical, aiming for the side corridor staging area—where control panels might override shutters or drones.
Then Aelphus’s voice changes. Low at first, almost hypnotic. Then a harmonic pulse rolls across the room, threading through every speaker. My head snaps sideways—light and sound wrap me in a cage of vibration. Brick walls might tremble. The crowd rears, hands clutching temples, eyes glazed.
I grip Rekkgar’s arm as dizziness strikes. My vision fringes between clarity and haze. I want to call his name, but the vibration drowns my voice.
He steps in front of me, still, wide stance. He roars through the pulse: “Ruby, stay with me.”
I lean into his side, ear pressed to his armor, breathing the solid reek of steel, sweat, and reassurance. My skull buzzes with the attack, each wave pulling me under. I press my free hand to my forehead, trying to hold my senses together.
Aelphus’s voice continues—a dirge of control. Security drones stutter and fall to the ground, circuits scrambled by the frequency. Guards shift their weapons, eyes twitching from focus to confusion. Screaming starts, shadowing the chaos falling from the closed shutters.
