Page 35 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits

RUBY

I feel the warm breeze of the cliffside gardens like a soft promise against my bare shoulders, fragrant with jasmine and ultrablue moon lilies.

The crystalline riverbanks of Novaria glow like molten quartz in the distance, reflecting the gentle afternoon sun that sparkles through my starlight silk gown.

I can taste excitement—a heady sip of honey-sweet air and promises—as I glance at the walkway lined with rose-petaled lanterns, each gently swaying to the soft rhythm of Vakutan chants echoing across the terrace.

My heart pounds against the fabric draping my chest, not from nerves—but simply because this is happening. I’m here , about to marry Rekkgar. Everything I ever feared or desired is wrapped up in that tall, scarred warrior waiting at the altar beneath a canopy of sugared flowers.

I step forward, the fabric of my dress whispering against the marble floor, crenellated with crystalline veins that catch the light like tiny constellations.

Guests from every corner of the Galaxy rise in hushed awe—the polished scales of diplomats, the glitter of alien couture, the star-sparked attire of traders and warriors mingling under this breathtaking sky.

Rekkgar stands tall in ceremonial Vakutan armor hewn black as obsidian, veins of rose-gold filigree winding over chest plates and shoulder pauldrons, crimson gemstones shining like the heart of a nova.

The armor fits him like a second skin, as if it grew from his will and purpose.

His scarred jaw is taut as a drawn bow, but when our eyes meet across the aisle, the steel melts and there’s that spark—the one that ignites strength with softness.

The Vakutan priest—his old mentor—steps forward, his voice a deep reverberation in the still air.

I swallow as I draw closer to the altar, pink petals crunching softly beneath my slippers.

The scent of sugared roses and ceremony floats in every breath.

My dress shimmers: silk woven with starlight fibers, threads that pulse softly as if they have their own heartbeat.

I stand beside Rekkgar, our fingers brushing until we entwine like tangled vines. I see his chest rise with the weight of a lifetime’s battles—and the strength of a future he’s never allowed himself to dream he could have.

The priest begins. Vakutan words, fluid with ritual, echo into the gathering dusk. Then—my turn. I lean forward, voice steady despite dancing nerves:

“Rekkgar,” I say, heart pounding louder than the murmured gasps in the crowd, “from the moment I first tasted your chocolate chip muffin top, I knew you were something extraordinary. But I never could have imagined I’d stand here with you—my warrior, my rock, my... partner in cupcake domination.”

The sudden laughter ripples through the guests—soft, joyful—but my gaze never wavers from Rekkgar. His copper-infused cybernetic eye glimmers. I hold his hand tighter.

“I vow to stand by you—not just in sugar highs and soft beginnings, but in battles fierce and futures bright. I promise to protect your heart, as fiercely as you protect mine. To love you with all the sweetness and fire I carry. And to dominate the galaxy—one cupcake at a time.”

An audible gasp. Then more laughter. Even Rekkgar smiles—first time, a small ghost—but then it ignites into the kind of grin that threatens to crack his stoic mask.

He clears his throat, voice low and measured but full of feeling:

“Ruby—of all the worlds I’ve stood guard over, none hold my loyalty like your heart.

I promise now, in witness of the stars and our kin, to be your shield, your solace, and your partner—never to stand apart, never to let you face fear alone.

I love you, in this life and whatever lives come next. I choose you—always.”

The Vakutan priest raises a ceremonial array of petals and proclaims: “By the cosmic bond, I pronounce you mates for life!” He dusts us with rose petals. The guests break into thunderous applause.

Time bends in that moment, petals drifting like slow-dancing embers around us.

Rekkgar lifts my hand, kisses it. Then—our first kiss as husband and wife, soft yet bursting with the same power that carried us through every trial.

It's like tasting the sweetest honey from the first blossom of spring, yet tempered with the burn of everything we've survived.

The reception blooms like a meteor shower in celebration.

Earth?Bites transformed the gardens into a galaxy of confectionary marvels.

Long tables heave with zero-G fizz macarons—tiny orbs that pop and fizz on the tongue; galaxy-shaped muffins with swirls of violet and silver; and the pièce de résistance: a seven-tier wedding cake sculpted to look like a meteor shower suspended in mid-air by invisible nano-tendrils, interfused with stardust glaze.

Lyrie flirts with the DJ—her every laugh a melodic chime that elevates the music—while Vonn, brimming with mischievous spirit, downed six cups of hyper-cocoa and challenges the ambassador of the Andrus Cluster to a dance-off.

The ambassador accepted, and she stomped him into a comedic defeat, dappling the floor with cocoa-slicked moves.

The crowd roars; our wedding has turned into cosmic theater.

Rekkgar stands nearby, broad arm around my waist. I lean into him, feeling every inch of him—solid, real, scarred, graceful. His lips lift in unguarded grin. He lights up the scene, no longer the dour sentinel but a man reborn.

I sigh contentment that seeps into my bones. I rest my head on his shoulder as fireworks bloom above—their trails sparkling violet, gold, crimson to match our wedding palette. The sky blossoms over Novaria, each burst a note in our song.

“I never thought my life would look like this,” I whisper against his breastplate, voice thick with joy and disbelief.

He nuzzles my temple. “Neither did I. But now…” He pauses to steady me, because we both know these words carry weight beyond fairy tale. “Now I can’t imagine anything else.”

The night deepens.

Guests drift away in glittering clusters, the final bursts of laughter echoing like stardust between lantern-lit archways.

The scent of burnt sugar and gardenia still clings to the garden air, mixing with the cool breeze from the riverbanks below—where moonlight ripples like scattered diamonds across obsidian water.

We’ve done it. The vows, the kiss, the cake, the chaos. And now, we slip into silence together.

Hand in hand.

His grip is warm and enormous around mine—rough fingers that could crush and protect in equal measure. Rekkgar walks beside me like he’s afraid the stars might reach down and steal me if he lets go.

At the garden’s edge, beneath a canopy of silver-glowing fire-fruits, I stop and turn.

I press my forehead to his broad chest. I can hear his heart there, thundering steady and sure beneath black scales and old scar tissue.

A cathedral of devotion, built in bone and blood and something more fragile—hope.

My arms loop around his back, anchoring me to him.

“Let’s never stop building this life,” I whisper, feeling the words vibrate against his chest. “Not just the bakery. But everything else, too.”

He tilts my chin up, the pads of his fingers brushing over my cheek like he’s memorizing its texture. His eyes—one ice-blue, one glowing red—lock on mine.

“We won’t,” he says, voice a growl tempered with reverence. “We’ll build and bake and love—through every star and war and greatness in our path.”

Then he kisses me.

It starts soft—tender and slow, the kind of kiss that seals vows in starlight. But it deepens fast, hunger catching like wildfire between us. His lips are warm and demanding, his body pressed flush to mine, and I can feel how hard he’s already getting against my stomach.

Rekkgar groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead to mine. “You’re my wife,” he rasps, like he’s still trying to believe it. “Mine.”

“All yours,” I breathe.

He lifts me effortlessly, arms under my thighs, my dress spilling over his forearms like molten silk. I wrap myself around him, giggling into his neck as he carries me toward the guest quarters. We don’t make it.

The private lounge we passed earlier—stone walls, plush seating, ambient lighting—calls to us. He shoulders the door open, sets me on the low divan, and kisses me again.

“Ruby,” he growls, kneeling between my legs, massive hands bracketing my hips. “I need you.”

“Then take me,” I whisper, pulling the pins from my hair. “I want you to see all of me.”

I tug the dress down, baring my breasts to the cool air.

His eyes go wide—hungry and reverent all at once.

He leans forward and mouths one nipple, gently, then with more insistence, sucking until I cry out, then switching to the other.

His tongue is rougher than human—textured—and it sends electric shocks straight to my pussy.

I arch under him, hands fisting in his thick hair.

“More,” I gasp. “Please—Rekkgar—more.”

He growls, dragging the dress up to my hips, baring my soaked panties.

“These,” he mutters, tugging them down with shaking hands, “these won’t survive.”

He rips them in half.

His nose presses to the juncture of my thighs, inhaling deeply. “You’re dripping for me,” he says, voice shaking. “Gods, Ruby, your pussy?—”

I whimper as he licks me—slow, broad strokes from his tongue that leave me shuddering. His hands press my thighs open wider, his growl vibrating through me as he eats me like he’s starving.

“Fuck—Rekk—yes—” I cry out, hips grinding against his mouth.

He moans into my pussy, sucking my clit between his lips, circling it with that inhuman tongue until I’m sobbing, until my thighs tremble and my fingers claw at the upholstery.

“I’m gonna—oh god—Rekkgar?—”

I come.

It crashes over me like a meteor, hot and wild and impossible to contain. I shake, gasping, and he licks me through it—slow and tender now, reverent again. As if worshipping.

Then he rises, dragging his tunic over his head.

I still catch my breath every time I see him bare.

The width of his chest. The deep red stripes like tiger war paint.

The gleam of black scales over rippling muscle.

The scars—gods, the scars, each one a story he’s never told, each one sacred.

His cybernetic eye glows like a burning ember in the half-light.

His cock strains against his pants, thick and impossibly long, a dark column of heat and need.

I sit up and reach for his waistband.

“Let me,” I whisper, hands trembling as I undo the fastenings. His cock springs free, and I bite my lip. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how fucking gorgeous you are.”

He strokes a hand down my hair, gentle even as his cock twitches near my mouth. “And I’ll never get used to you wanting me like this.”

I grip the base of his cock, stroking it slowly. His breath hitches.

“Do you want me to?—?”

“Not this time,” he rasps. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

He lays me back against the divan, pulling my knees up around his waist. He lines himself up at my entrance, his cock pressing into my still-sensitive pussy. I moan, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Slow,” I breathe. “I want to feel it all.”

He pushes in.

The stretch burns, just a little, and then?—

Gods.

The thickness of him, the length, the way he fills me so completely it steals my breath. My back arches, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck—Rekkgar—you’re?—”

“I’ve got you,” he growls, his voice like thunder barely contained. “You feel like home. So fucking tight—so perfect?—”

He thrusts.

Slow and deep at first, each stroke deliberate, designed to make me feel every inch of his cock. I whimper, clutching him close, staring into the wild devotion in his mismatched eyes.

“You’re shaking,” I whisper.

“Because I love you,” he grits, snapping his hips harder. “Because this—this is everything.”

Our bodies crash together like a storm. The slap of skin on skin echoes through the room. He fucks me with purpose, with reverence, like he’s claiming the rest of his life in every thrust.

I wrap my legs tighter around him, nails clawing down his back.

“Harder,” I beg. “Please, harder—I’m close?—”

He gives it to me.

His pace becomes brutal, his cock pistoning in and out of my soaked pussy with relentless precision. My body sings, every nerve alight. He kisses me between thrusts—messy, desperate, aching.

“Come for me,” he snarls, thrusting deep. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

I do.

I scream his name, clamping around him as pleasure detonates through me, electric and endless. My vision whites out. My body jerks, shaking in his arms as I ride out the waves.

Rekkgar’s roar follows—deep, guttural, soul-deep—as he buries himself inside me and comes, spilling hot and deep and trembling above me.

When it’s over, we collapse in a tangle of limbs and breath and love.

He holds me like I’m breakable.

I kiss his chest, press my face to his heart.

“We’re unstoppable,” I whisper.

“Forever,” he replies, kissing the crown of my head.

The Galaxy may never understand what we have built—a fortress in love, a bakery in orbit, a bond sealed by sugar, blood, and battle. But tonight, we are foundry and fireworks. Potter and poem. Warrior and wonder.

I hold my new husband close—Rekkgar, the Vakutan sentinel who became my anchor, my home, my stormbreaker and dreammaker.

Together, under Novaria’s moonlight and a galaxy of stars, we taste our future: sweet as frosting, strong as steel, and infinite as the cosmos.

That’s the life we vow to build—one recipe at a time, one battle at a time, one loving step at a time.

The bakery awaits. The universe awaits. And we—together—are ready.