Page 21 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits

Aelphus stands framed in the doorway. His golden skin glows under the neon, perfect and imperious. His gaze sweeps the room, landing first on Ruby, then sliding over me.

He inclines his head.

I feel something shift—like the world acknowledges our union, even as my heart lurches in ownership and caution.

Ruby lifts a hand. “Your Majesty.”

Aelphus’s eyes glint as he steps forward, clapping once. The sound echoes, rich and refined.

“A formidable performance,” he says, voice smooth like molten gold. “But I sense the real story is not what you served—but who.”

Ruby blushes.

He turns to me, expression curious. “And you, warrior chef—do you share that sentiment?”

My breath hitches.

I swallow. I want to vomit the words. But camera drones hover, sponsors smile, the Holonet cameras focus.

“Your dish speaks volumes,” I say instead, steady and formal. “But the support… that speaks deeper.”

Aelphus's lips curve. “Indeed.” He pauses. Eyes no longer on us—but beyond. As if he sees what binds us more than we do.

He nods once, curt. “Advice—stay true to each other. That bond, if real, will propel you both beyond these walls.”

And with that enigmatic assessment, he turns and leaves.

Ruby looks at me, breath caught.

I stare after Aelphus, my stomach twisting. A stranger sees it. A predator dressed in gold. And still I held back.

Ruby clears her throat. “Well… let's prep for the finale.”

I nod. My jaw clenches. The bond I withheld feels heavier now.

That night, we eat dry rations in our cabin. No cameras. No Holonet. Just stage lights flickering beyond the curtains.

Ruby reaches for my hand across the tapas tray. The silence between us crackles with unsaid truth.

“You okay?” she asks, eyes searching mine.

I close my eyes, mind torn between confession and cowardice.

“Let me finish what I started saying this afternoon,” I murmur. Her breath stops.

I draw a breath. “Ruby…I didn’t speak it in front of Aelphus or the cameras because—I… I’m scared.”

She tilts her head.

I swallow. Voice lower: “If you ever reject what binds us—my soul, our bond—it will be like carving out a piece of me.”

Her eyes glisten.

I swallow again. “But if we stand together… I will fight everything to protect that bond. Because it means more than any competition. More than any honor.”

She slowly smiles, tears slipping. “I already belong to it,” she whispers. “To you.”

I nod, relief flooding me.

I sense him before he speaks—sliding into the prep room like a golden tide, lights glancing off skin that gleams too perfectly, chest puffed in practiced confidence.

Aelphus, the Vortaxian emperor, moves toward us with calculated ease, every motion an exercise in regal display.

On any other day, I’d salute his rank. Today, though, every fiber of me bristles, watchful and immovable, as though he’s a predator circling.

Ruby stands at my side, hands dusted with flour, eyes bright. I can feel her notice him too—her pulse shifts under my senses. I stiffen.

He stops in front of us, gaze flicking from my shoulder to hers, and back again. Then he bows low, the gesture polished, not from respect, but from study. I grit my jaw; I smell his rosewater cologne—too sweet—and the hum of his entourage blinking in chrome drones.

“Master Rekkgar, Lady Adams.” His voice is smooth, musical. “May I speak with you?”

I nod once—short, formal—then glance at Ruby. She inclines her head.

He steps forward, presence expanding like a solar blast. I can feel heat off him. Ruby shifts closer to me. Good.

“So,” Aelphus begins, voice silky as spun gold, “your fusion of Earth sweetness with native flora… remarkable. I’ve tasted many novelties, but never have I experienced this .

” He gestures to the simmering core of our test dish—the Earth cobbler brioche steamed in spice, set afloat on vaporized pear essence.

Ruby’s cheeks color. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s… an experiment of heart and memory.”

He smiles—thin, appraising. “Ah yes, but food isn’t just sustenance. You Earthlings romantically imprint flavors with nostalgia. Fascinating.” He glances at me. “And you, Master Rekkgar—such… steady partnership. How does one train to move in perfect sync with someone else’s taste buds?”

I bristle. “It’s not choreography. It’s trust.”

He inclines his head. “Yes. Trust. Or something… stronger.” The smile widens, enigmatic.

He shifts his gaze to Ruby. “There is an old Vortaxian prophecy: the perfect mate reveals themselves not by lineage or pact, but by conquering the palate. The one who tastes your food and finds their soul stirred is your true counterpart.”

Ruby’s breath catches. I tighten my grip on the spoon I’m holding, knuckles whitening.

He continues: “They claim this mate appears across worlds—someone from a foreign world may taste your bread and know.” His eyes glint. “It seems you might be living proof.”

I bare my teeth behind control. His tone is casual, but the implication swells heavy between us. He wants more. Something beyond admiration.

“A fascinating thought,” I say, voice low, balanced. “But the bond I have with Ruby—it's tested in intimacy and trust daily.” I shift, stepping protectively forward. “It’s not a novelty or spectacle.”

He laughs—soft and almost musical. “Of course. Yet still.” He glances from Ruby to me. “This bond… is it exclusive?”

I inhale slowly. I won’t allow my tone to betray anger. “It is.”

His smile sharpens. “Splendid. That clarity is rare in these days of alliances built on fleeting momentum.” He bows again, closer this time. “I admire it…but so does my curiosity.”

His fingers brush the edge of the table—too close to our mise en place. I feel my blood thrum. I step until he’s at my shoulder, leaning slightly into Ruby’s space.

“You honor me, Emperor,” Ruby says, voice steady as steel. “But Rekkgar and I built this together. And together is where we stay.”

Aelphus straightens. “Of course.” His eyes flick to me—uncertain. “But be aware: as this contest advances… many will see more than flavor in your partnership.” He taps his temple. “Symbolism. Prestige.” He scans past me. “Perhaps even… political value?”

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.