Page 65 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
Ruby’s jaw stiffens. My arm tightens around her waist. She meets his gaze with unexpected steel.
“We’re not here as symbols,” she says quietly. “We’re here because we love what we do.”
He nods, eyes distant. “A romantic sentiment. Admirable. Still… travelers and viewers seek stories behind the dish.”
He glances away, then back to me. “Be vigilant, warrior. Not all who praise your unity do so out of genuine respect.”
I swallow bile. The threat is veiled, but unmistakable.
“Thank you,” I reply coldly. “We will.”
He steps back, offering a small bow. “You do that. I eagerly await your finale.”
Then he slips away, golden form dissolving into staff and drone glare. The door swipes shut.
I exhale—deep, slow, absolute. Ruby leans into me.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
I press a kiss to her temple. “He saw something in us… and now he wants more.”
She grips my hand. “Let him want. We have each other.”
I nod, but inside, the fire roars. I taste copper on my tongue. The bond with Ruby trembles under threat of empire. Yet beneath it all, the bond hums brighter.
He underestimated us.
“Let him sit on his golden throne,” I murmur, “and watch.”
Ruby nods. “We cook our truth.”
I release her hand and return to our station. I reroute the mise en place, reposition monitors to show edge-first presentation. I guard our space physically, mentally.
Every spice measured. Every plate polished.
We’re entering the final round soon. Next time we step into the spotlight… we’ll own it.
And as for Aelphus…
If he wants to test love with prophecy—and play with power—I’ll show him something stronger: two souls bound by choice, flesh, and faith.
I scrape my voice hoarse: “Let’s get back to work.”
Ruby nods, eyes steady. And in that nod, I see a promise—a vow that neither golden robes nor cunning prophecies can break.
We begin again.
CHAPTER 15
REKKGAR
Ican feel it before I turn—an electric tension in the crowd that tightens the air like a drawn blade. The golden glow of Aelphus follows us, a silent current pooling around Ruby wherever she stands. We’ve been in the prep dome for hours, plating sugar-crusted galactic doughnuts, but now we’re bleeding time, corralling nerves for the televised final.
She leans into me, close enough for her warmth to ghost across my skin.
“He's watching again,” she murmurs, voice low, blue eyes flicking to the mezzanine. The shimmer of his ceremonial robes catches even from this distance. He stands too still. Too precise. There’s danger in that polish—something sharp beneath the diplomatic silk.
I don’t answer at first. I don’t need to. I press a hand to her shoulder, grounding her. Her breath hitches at the contact, but she doesn’t flinch.
