Page 72 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
Warrior’s Path—charred galactic tubers, smoky spice.
First Convergence—fusion of our styles.
Bond—a dessert of caramel heart, sugar petals.
Ruby flourishes cinnamon swirls.I place basil sprig with quiet precision. We’re fluid. Unfazed. But my senses remain taut, scanning crowds. Every golden hem. Every whisper. Every glance from the mezzanine.
At one point, she hesitates—hands shaking as she pipes sugar petals. My breath catches. I reach for her wrist, steady. She looks at me. I nod. Her fingers relax. She smiles.
I bend to whisper, “Let’s show them our truth.” She nods, spirit reinvigorated.
We finish plating. Course four: a heart shaped by molten caramel. Its center glows like sunrise. She tastes, tears pooled. I hold her gaze. She meets it and nods.
The cameras zoom. The dome hushes. I sense Aelphus’s presence. When he stands—cordial applause—every muscle in me clenches. But Ruby’s gaze finds mine, fierce and steady. No flinch. The plate slides to judges. Silence.
They taste course by course. Each bite: the judges pause. They sip broth. They close eyes. Then they nod. Ruby exhales. I exhale.
Backstage, the host gushes. Cameras flash. Ruby is swaddled in spotlight. And there—on the balcony above—Aelphus stands, arms crossed. He nods slowly, the thinest curl at his lips. Watching. Calculating.
Ruby sees him. Her face tightens. She stiffens. My heart sears with fury. I grip her hand.
He disappears behind curtains. The host ushers Ruby forward. She glances at me, swallowed. I remain silent. But inside: a vow coils tight. I will not let him eclipse our bond. Not this time.
Later,in our suite, I strip off the day’s armor—the apron, the sponsor tags—leaving raw Rekkgar in simple training gear. Rubyenters, shoulders collapsing, tears in her eyes. She closes the door and wraps arms around herself.
I step toward her. “Hey,” I say softly. She steps into me. I wrap my arms around her.
“I felt it today,” she murmurs into my chest. “He watched… I could practically taste his appetite.”
My heart clamps. I press my chin onto her head. “He sees our bond. He’d kill to stake claim.” My voice tremors with restrained rage. “But I’m prepared. I will stand between him andus.”
She lifts her gaze, eyes red but fierce. “It felt like hunger. I felt less free. More... prey.”
“No.” I cup her face. My gaze dives into hers. “Not prey. Partner. Equal. Soulbound.”
She closes eyes, pressing cheek to palm. “Hold me.”
I step forward. We connect chest to chest. I feel the steady belting of her heart against mine. I rock her gently.
The night hums around us—lower decibels than a battlefield, but weighted with different stakes. There’s no grenade blasts—only whispering alarms for the soul.
Eventually she speaks: “Promise me.” I lift brow.
She tilts her lips. “Promise you’ll protect us.”
