Page 9 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
My jaw clenches. These guys weren’t just hanging out here. They’ve been watching me. They had me marked. I take a deep breath. “Get out of my way.”
“Or what?” the Grolgath asks, stepping forward. His voice is gravel rubbed against steel. “You’ll call your lizard boyfriend to come save you?”
“Rekkgar is ten times the man any of you will ever be.”
“Yeah? Where is he now?”
Fifteen steps. I pivot slightly, pretending to shift my bag, but I’m winding my body for motion. The human catches it.
“She’s gonna bolt.”
“No, I’m gonna walk,” I snap. “Like someone who knows her rights.”
I take a step.
The Grolgath moves.
A blur. Too fast.
His fist cracks across my cheek with the force of a hammer.
Pain explodes through my face—sharp and immediate, blooming outward from my lip where something splits. My knees buckle, my vision whites out for a heartbeat, and the taste of copper floods my mouth. I stumble backward, catching myselfagainst the alley wall, the texture of old stone biting into my palms.
My scream rips free before I can stop it.
High, raw, soaked in disbelief.
They laugh.
It’s the laugh that guts me more than the pain. Like I’m nothing. Like I’m sport.
Blood trickles down my chin, hot and humiliating.
“Look at that,” the Baragon croons. “Told you the soft ones bruise easy.”
I scramble upright, head spinning, fury crawling up my throat.
“You’ll regret this,” I snarl.
The human snorts. “Sure. We’ll tell the drones you tripped.”
I’m cornered. Cornered in my own neighborhood, five steps from the door where I serve coffee and kindness to half the species in this district. My pulse pounds in my ears, my fingers twitch with the need todosomething—but all I’ve got is a satchel of credits and a mouth full of blood.
The Grolgath steps forward again, menace thick in every motion.
And then?—
Something shifts.
The air cracks.
Not sound. Not really.
More like pressure giving way. Like something heavy and ancient unfolding.
They feel it too—their postures twitch, predator’s instincts catching a scent they don’t understand. The Baragon’s hand twitches toward his blade. The human’s grin falters.
And then I hear him.
