Page 10 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits

Each step toward her bakery feels like treading deep space without a tether—adrift and choking on the vacuum of what might come.

The sun has long since dipped below the jagged skyline, leaving the world around me painted in bruised violets and molten amber.

The lamplights flicker on, one by one, their glows soft and golden against the steel-and-stone edges of the Interstellar Commons.

The cobblestones beneath my feet are still warm from the day’s heat, but a cool wind snakes through the alleys, threading itself beneath my armor and chilling the sweat on my back.

My boots scuff the ground louder than I want. There’s a voice in my head—stern, commanding, my old captain’s voice from the war—screaming retreat . I ignore it.

The front windows of Earth Bites gleam like molten honey, light spilling across the threshold like an invitation. Inside, I see her. Alone.

She moves between tables with a cloth in hand, her back to me.

She’s in a simple blouse—blue again—and her hair’s pulled up in one of those loose, Earth-style knots that looks haphazard but probably took her twenty minutes.

Her hip tilts as she leans to wipe a smear of icing from the counter, and my breath catches in my throat.

She doesn’t see me yet. Good.

I savor this one last second—the final moment before everything I say either saves us or shatters her again.

The door chimes when I enter.

She spins, cloth still in her fingers. Her mouth parts slightly. Those bright eyes widen, then narrow, and her posture shifts so subtly that only a warrior would notice. Tension. Not fear—never that—but wariness laced with something else.

Something raw.

I step inside fully, let the door close behind me with a soft click. I don’t move closer. The distance between us feels sacred.

Her voice is soft. “You’re late.”

It slices deeper than any blade. Because I am. Days late. Lifetimes late.

“I didn’t know how to come back,” I say.

“Yeah, well…” Her eyes search mine, and when they settle on my mouth, I feel the ghost of our kiss between us. “You still did.”

I nod once. My throat’s dry. The air smells like caramelized sugar and lavender soap, and the scent is so unmistakably her that it nearly buckles my knees.

“I—” I start, but she lifts a hand.

“Don’t,” she says gently. “Don’t apologize. Not again.”

“I must. It’s part of my?—”

“Your code,” she finishes. “Yeah. I get it.” She offers a half-smile. It trembles.

I take a breath, but she speaks first.

“I have something to tell you.”

My stomach twists. I brace myself, nodding.

She swallows hard, then sets the cloth down on the nearest table, folding her hands together like a schoolgirl about to recite bad news. “My fiancé… Devran Kael. He’s dead.”

The words hit like an orbital strike. My pulse stutters. “What?”

She looks at me full-on now, and her eyes—though damp—don’t flinch. “Reapers. Badlands. No survivors.”

I feel the world lurch beneath my feet. The room shifts. Everything tilts.

“I never met him,” she adds quietly. “Not once. He was just a name. An obligation I wore like shackles. But now…”

Now she’s free.

The silence between us is electric.

It crackles in the air, vibrating between our skin like static. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I should move. Should reach for her. Should say something . But my legs betray me. My lungs rebel.

She’s looking at me like I’m the last star on a dying night. Her eyes glow with a desperate hope I am too much a coward to meet.

“I thought I’d feel something,” she says. “Grief. Guilt. Maybe a weight lifted. And I guess… I do. But mostly?” She steps closer. “I feel like I can finally choose. ”

My breath hitches.

She’s close enough now I can see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse flutters in the hollow of her throat. The tips of her fingers twitch by her sides, like she’s waiting for me to reach for them. To claim her.

But instead, my fear swallows me whole.

I take a step back.

Her face falters.

“Rekkgar?” Her voice cracks.

“I—” I bow my head. “Forgive me.”

Her brows knit. “For what now?”

“I cannot stay.”

“What? Why?”

I shake my head. “Because I’m not ready. I’m not… I can’t be what you deserve. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Her eyes go wide. Her hands curl into fists. “You think I give a damn about deserve ? You think I’ve been waiting all these years for some perfect warrior who checks every box on the Trident’s Guide to Mating Etiquette?”

I flinch.

She glares. “I want you , you stupid, stubborn, gorgeous scaled man . Not the polished version. Not the one who recites oaths and runs away the second things get real. You. The one who killed for me. The one who held me like I was breakable and still kissed me like I wasn’t.”

I can’t breathe.

But I can’t stay, either.

So I mutter one word—“Honor”—and turn.

I don’t look back.

Not until the door closes behind me and I’m swallowed by violet dusk, with her voice echoing in my ears like a heartbeat I’ll never get out of my chest.