Page 13 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
Those men were nothing. They deserved worse. But what breaks me—whatruinsme—is her face after it was over. Not twisted in horror. Not wide with fear. Not even disgust.
She looked at me with awe.
That’s what kills me.
That’s what keeps me awake.
She shouldn’t have looked at me like that. Should’ve screamed again. Should’ve turned and run. Instead, she stood there, blood on her lip, eyes wide… andwanting.
I stagger back from the post, panting, heart stuttering in its cage. My cybernetic eye glitches, flickering as sweat stings the socket. I swipe at it with the back of my forearm and slump against the far wall.
The floor is cool beneath me. That helps. My knees creak as I drop into a seated position, palms pressed flat against the polished tile. I close my eyes, even though it brings the memories back in sharper clarity.
Her blouse—torn. Her lip—split and red. Her voice, small but steady, calling my name. The tremble in her body… but not from fear. Fromsomething else.
I don’t know what to do with that.
She should fear me.
I fear me.
I press a palm to my sternum, right over the tattooed ridges of my honor-markings. The ink is old. The flesh beneath it older. But the mark still burns like it’s fresh. A reminder of who I was. Who I’m supposed to be. What I cannot become again.
I should’ve stayed away.
Imeantto.
But every day, I walk into Earth Bites like it’s the only place that lets me breathe. She offers me coffee and warmth like it costs her nothing, and I accept it like a coward—like I can take what I want in small pieces and never admit I want the whole.
I never should’ve touched her world.
And now, I’ve stained it.
The scent of blood lingers on me still. Their blood. Her blood. I’ve washed twice since returning, but I can’t scrub it out of my nose. My body remembers the violence like a favorite song. My bones hum with it. The part of me I buried—under sand, under steel, under ten years of silence—rose tonight.
And it looked at her.
And itlikedwhat it saw.
A low growl builds in my throat. I punch the floor, hard enough to send a shockwave up my spine.
She deserves peace. She deserves sweetness. Delicate things. Sunlight and cinnamon and laughter. She deserves to be kissed gently, touched reverently—not guarded by a war relic built to destroy.
She deservesmore.
And yet…
Her eyes.
I can’t forget her eyes.
Not frightened.
Not angry.
Not even disappointed.
There was fire in them. Understanding. And that’s what terrifies me most.
