Page 84 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
CHAPTER 23
RUBY
Islide through the front door of Earth?Bites and inhale its familiar symphony: sugar–sweet air, warm ovens humming, coffee grounds steeping in that sweet, potent promise. The sign still readsWelcome to Earth?Bites—but under it, the world has changed. I have changed. I’m not just the baker anymore. I’mher—the one who stood in a moon-ring arena, proved her bond, became a symbol. Every morning, the crisp pastel walls greet me like an old friend, but I walk through them with new eyes, a new heartbeat.
Early morning light splashes across the countertops as I braid my hair into its usual loose twist. I feel the gentle tug of lavender hair ties against my scalp. I braid not just hair but memory—a ritual that anchors me before the day breaks. Rekkgar is beside me, wiping down the espresso machine, his broad shoulders taut in the soft dawn glow. He glances over his shoulder; I see him searching for that moment when our gazes connect. I offer him a small smile, the kind I reserve for him: layered, intimate, and infinite.
I dip my finger into an open bowl of cream cheese frosting—just enough. It tastes of vanilla and sunrise. I lick it off, slow and deliberate, savoring the sweetness. Rekkgar chuckles, low in histhroat. “Perfectly wicked,” he murmurs. I grin back, knowing the joy in small rebellions is our sacred ritual. We drink coffee as the sky shifts from pale indigo to brushed gold. I lean against him, warmth radiating up through his arm. The bakery is quiet—but alive. Our peace pulses in these simple moments, even with the world watching.
By mid-morning, the door chime clicks on and the world floods in. Young women I recognize from the media line up for cupcakes and advice. One purple-skinned Tal’Ren teen, shy but steady, asks me for life advice while I spoon caramel swirl cupcakes. I kneel to her level, gently gently, and tell her, “Trust the quiet inside you. It’ll tell you what’s true.” She nods, eyes bright. I tuck a strand of platinum hair behind her ear—something I’ve never done before, with anyone except Rekkgar.
Outside the window, old warriors from the Dissolution War stand salute, heads bowed. I see Rekkgar straighten, chest rising with its thunderous rhythm of honor and humility. He points to me and mouths "Together," and I mouth back “Always.” They peer in as if seeing legends made flesh—baker and warrior, founder and mate. And I think: this is home. This is real.
By closing time, I find myself alone with Rekkgar again. The last customer drifts out, the chime echoes. I lock the door, flick off the flashes outside. I turn and find Rekkgar waiting, arms open. I let him hold me until the stars begin to show through the pink–orange dusk outside the windows.
Still, there’s a quiet tie that pulls at me—not guilt exactly, but something close. Our lives have shifted on tectonic forces. My small shop is headed for orbit; our faces are broadcast across constellations. And it’s all because ofhim. He traded the clang of dojo steel for the hiss of espresso machines, and gave up simplicity to stand by me. I wonder sometimes if he misses the rhythm of warriorhood. I lay that guilt beside my pillow each night.
One evening, late, I watch him close up the shop. He laughs gently at something I say; the sound cracks the dusk open. I step forward, slide behind him, press my cheek against his dark armor plating. It’s not fighting armor, but the cerametal of our trials, with soft ruby edges that shimmer like embers. He tenses, but doesn’t pull away.
I whisper, eyes to the floor: “You don’t have to do this for me. You don’thaveto stay.”
He rubs my hip with a protective fierceness that litters the air with reassurance. “Love isn’t a chore,” he says. “It’s the greatest battle. And this battle—your happiness—worth more than any arena.”
His words settle in me like sweet cream. I lean into him and murmur back: “Then let’s never stop fighting.”
And we didn’t—until the encrypted holo notification flickered to life on my compad a few nights later:
“You are mine still, in the stars.”
Aelphus
My skin turns to electric steel. I stare at the words, heart clenching into a fist of dread. His script is elegant, venom-carved in antique Vortaxian. I taste acrid fear. But I don’t show it—yet. Not to anyone. Not to Rekkgar. Not until I understand it.
So I bury the message in my private folder, shield it with layers of code. And I focus on what Icanbuild—with him.
The next morning,we host our launch planning session. The orbital branch—Earth?Bites Galactic—will open on a luxury station six months from now. Investment has poured in. Holo-maps spin, numbers project. I stand at the head, pointer in hand, but it’s Rekkgar’s firm, resonant voice that anchors every decision.
He places a clause right into every expansion contract:the original Novaria shop remains unchanged—its walls, its rhythm, its legacy. I look at him after he speaks it. He reaches across the table and kisses my knuckles—like holy consecration.
I swallow back tears, voice thick: “Because that’s where we began.”
Rekkgar smiles—a stretch of pure worship. He brushes the side of my hand with his thumb. “Always home.”
Weeks later, construction consoles hum in the orbital station’s docking bay. Glass flourishes are installed, pastel tiles easing into place. I hover beside the chief builder, sipping a peppermint latte flavored with subtle marsala. I taste the spice and safety of familiarity even as walls rise around nothingness.
Rukkgar stands behind me, arms folded. He gazes at the rising walls, at the silent promise of a new Earth?Bites in zero-g. I feel his presence—veins like iron wires beneath my skin.
I lean into him. “Let him come,” I murmur, voice low in the hum of machinery. My eyes flick to his. He nods once—dark intensity glimmering in his irises.
We stand together beneath the skeletal frame, the station’s artificial sky above. I slide my fingers through his, press against his palm.
He leans his forehead against mine, whispers: “We’re ready.”
I exhale, and for a moment the world feels small. Our bond—that pure promise made in fiery arenas and pastry-lined counters—stretches around us like a shield. A promise baked into every crumb.
Above us, the station lights hum into life. Outside, the galaxy sparkles restlessly. I smile, steels my heart.
“Let him come.”
