Page 31 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
That kiss. That kiss should’ve changed everything. Itdidchange everything—for me. The way his hand cradled my jaw like I was precious. The way his mouth moved over mine with slow reverence, like he was memorizing me, branding the moment into his soul. It wasn’t passion, not just that. It was something older. Something sacred. Like the kind of kiss you give at the edge of war.
And then he ran.
Again.
Like I’m something dangerous.
Likehe’ssomething dangerous.
I drop the compad on the table and scrub both hands down my face, dragging the blanket up tighter, tucking it beneath my chin like armor.
“I’m such an idiot,” I whisper aloud, voice catching in the silence.
Because I really thought—this time—it would be different. I thought the walls would crack and somethingrealwould spill out between us. But I was wrong.
I look back at the compad. The screen’s gone black now, my reflection staring back, ghostlike.
He doesn’t want to be caught, I tell myself.So stop trying.
I’ve done this before. Told myself the same thing. Sworn I’d let him go. That I’d focus on the shop, on my craft, on the customers who laugh at my jokes and the espresso machine that never works properly. That I’d pour my love into frosting and batter and build something sweet enough to fill the void.
But love lingers. Pain lingers. Like smoke in drapes. Like the smell of cinnamon in your hair after a long day kneading dough.
It never really leaves.
I reach for the box of chocolate crinkle cookies Lyrie left me on the prep table earlier—her version of a care package. The scent hits me first, thick with cocoa and just a hint of sea salt. They’re good. She’s been practicing. I take a bite and try not to think of how these are Rekkgar’s favorite.
Fail.
Again.
A knock startles me from the haze. Not the front door—it’s too late for customers. This one comes from the back. The alley. Staff only.
I hesitate. My fingers tremble.
Maybe it’s Vonn, back from her walk to curse at the moon.
Maybe it’s Lyrie, checking on me again.
Maybe—
No. Don’t be stupid.
I rise, blanket trailing off my legs, and pad across the tile floor barefoot. The cold bites. The cookie sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I don’t open the door.
I wait.
Another knock. Firmer this time. Just once.
My hand flutters to the lock, hovering.
I pull it open.
But there’s no one there.
Just the faint scent of storm-dampened stone and—something else.
