Page 71 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
She closes her eyes. “And I am yours.”
We lean together, the stars above flickering holograms but feeling sacred in their rhythm. We kiss again—this time a sealing, defiant of empire and arrogance.
In the hush, I realize the competition has transformed. It's no longer about plated courses or televised acclaim. It's a battlefield of power, hearts, and futures. And with her by my side, I have everything I need to stand unbowed.
We stay on that bench until the waves fall silent. I don’t let go when the night shifts. Because letting go means exposing her to everything he might throw—glory, threats, seduction.
I cling. She leans. We breathe into each other the truth that carries us beyond this simulated shore.
We stand eventually, grit warmed by defiance. I rack my arm around her again and guide her toward the suite.
“Tomorrow,” I say softly, voice thick with promise, “we win—not just for the chefs' title, but for us. For what’s real.”
She nods, pressing a kiss under my jaw. “Together,” she confirms.
And as we walk away from the deck, the mist, the ocean, and the golden menace of Aelphus’s watching eyes drift into the night.
We are ready.
CHAPTER 16
REKKGAR
Iwake before dawn, the dojo’s silence tight around me like a drawn blade. My muscles ache from last night’s session, every fiber humming with tension I can’t release. The air smells of metal and sweat—my own—and the distant echo of footsteps hints that the station is stirring. But I don’t move toward the sparring mats. Instead, I stand by the window, watching the pale curve of Novaria’s oceans below, and feel outrage churning in my gut.
Aelphus. He’s inexplicable luxury, a golden wave of entitlement, believing himself entitled to Ruby’s warmth as though she’s a trophy. A diplomatic deity in gilded robes, tinged with silent menace. The thought slaughters me from within. I fought battles, bled through desert sweats and trench mud, and I never encountered obsession like this. Not until the warlords of old Deciduan nights, claiming mates like victory spoils. That same fire burns in Aelphus’s eyes when he watches Ruby—covetous, ravenous.
I crush my fist against the cold window glass. If only breaking it with bare hands could unleash relief. But that’s not who I’ve become—not anymore. Not while Ruby breathes hope into me. Not while I’ve vowed to protect what we built, who we are.
I step back and stride to the training floor, boots echoing. The clang of metal on bone is familiar. I start with kata sequences—over and again. Each movement is precise: strike, pivot, parry. Each breath measured. I let adrenaline feed me until I’m slick with sweat, veins singing.
Halfway through, I pause. I step toward a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. I punch. First clean, then savage—fury spilling out. The bag swings like a pendulum struck by war. My shoulders quake; my jaw tightens. My breath thumps in my ears. And still I don’t break it. Becauseshe'sworth restraint.
Minutes later, I stand dripping, chest heaving. I close my eyes. I clutch the bag.
When I open them, the dojo is still. A single bead of condensation shimmers in the overhead light, a silent star.
I breathe. I won’t push too far. I won’t become what I despise.
Hours later,I pace outside Earth Bites. Lyrie and Vonn wave from the door—early crew, readying for the busiest day yet. I can’t cross that threshold yet. Not until I quell the storm inside me. My senses jitter: the scent of sugar and cinnamon drifting out; the soft hum of machinery inside; Ruby’s laughter echoing like a threat against my simmering rage.
I swallow down the temper. I won’t let them see. I won’t bring this tension into her sunrise. Instead, I focus on the task ahead. The semifinals demand our all. We need steel, not emotion.
I turn and walk to the garage where I store my bike. The leather seat is cold, oil-scented. I kick rubber tire into motion. I need space. Speed. Distance, but also clarity.
I roar down winding corridors, engines whining in automatic tunnels. Planet below spins through viewport windows. Myvision narrows, but my heart loosens. By the time I return, I’m quiet. Focused. Ready.
Inside Earth Bites at midday, Ruby’s presence is everything—her voice light as whipped cream, her smile buoying every customer. I stay silent, watching her move—swift, graceful, alive. My fangs retreat. My heart soars. She’s still mine, unclaimed. Her aura hugs me. I press a kiss to her temple as she passes by: a silent vow. She smiles back—fueled with confidence. I swallow relief.
Lyrie sidles up with cheeky grin. “You’re back.” She nudges me. “Ruby’s stressing. But seeing you here… steady as always.”
I nod. “Here.” My eyes catch Ruby’s—they meet mine. That flicker—gratitude, distractive warmth. I hold it.
That evening,we return to the prep dome. Cameras swarm us like dusk-hungry moths. The station’s artificial skies flicker. Ruby and I stand shoulder-to-shoulder. The challenge is “A Culinary Love Story.” Four courses, four chapters:
Roots—Earth carrots in honey glaze.
