5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

P yne

All the teams are allowed to eat free in the hotel’s main dining room, but Becca shouts, “Hard pass!” when I ask if she’s ready to go downstairs for dinner.

“So… you’re not hungry?”

“Really?” She cocks her head. “You’d feel fine striding in there and being the laughingstock of every team remaining in the competition? The smirks? The not-even-whispered derisive comments? No freaking way!”

“Got it. By the way, I have excellent hearing. No need to shout” Although my scold is gentle, her eyes flare wide as she realizes she just screamed at me.

“Sorry.” She looks contrite.

“I’m not that hungry,” I admit. “I think I ate several pounds of fondant while I was helping mold the continents and the Leaning Tower of Penis.”

I don’t know what I said that elicited such a loud laugh from her, but it seems to calm her down a notch.

“Glad you’re not hungry… I’m starved.” Becca plops into a chair across the little table from me and sags against it. I restrain myself from reaching over and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to order room service. Because I work in the kitchen, I know their best dishes. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I didn’t exactly say I didn’t want to eat, Becca. Slaves—and former slaves—never turn down an opportunity for food. You never know where your next meal is coming from.”

“Fair enough.” She gives me a small, understanding smile before grabbing the room service menu and scanning it intently. “Hmm, the Crater Cakes are surprisingly delicious, despite the unappetizing name. And the Starlight Stew is my personal favorite.”

I lean back in my chair, watching as she appears to silently command herself to pull it together. Her shoulders straighten, her graceful neck elongates, and her jaw sets with conviction. Even after the crushing defeat we just suffered, Becca’s resilience and determination shine through. It’s a quality I’ve come to appreciate in our short time together.

“Order whatever you think is best, chef. I trust your judgment.” I flash her a grin. “Well, in food choices, at least. Your taste in baking partners might need some work.”

She glances up from the menu, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh, I don’t know, Pyne. You may be a disaster in the kitchen, but you keep things interesting.”

I clutch my heart in mock hurt. “Disaster? You wound me, Becca. And here I thought we were bonding over our shared culinary catastrophe.”

I lean forward, my expression turning serious. “Speaking of which… I want to apologize again for being the weakest link in our little endeavor. I know how much winning this competition means to you, and I feel like I let you down.”

Becca sets down the menu, her gaze softening. “Pyne, you don’t need to apologize. We’re a team, remember? We win or lose together.”

She reaches across the table and places her hand over mine, sending a jolt of awareness from the point of contact straight to my cock. “Besides, it’s not like I was expecting you to be a master baker. You’re a gladiator, not a pastry chef.”

I chuckle, turning my hand over to lace my fingers with hers. “True. But I still want to pull my weight. I may not be able to whip up a perfect soufflé, but I’m determined to help us come out on top.”

“I know you tried hard today.” She squeezes my hand gently. “And that’s what matters. We’ll figure this out together. Even if it means a few more kitchen disasters along the way.”

Our gazes collide, speaking about more than flour and baking powder. Becca does us both a favor by cutting the awkward silence with, “Now, let’s order some food and strategize for tomorrow’s immunity challenge. I have a feeling your non-baking skills might come in handy.”

As Becca picks up the communicator to place our order, it strikes me how different this is than what I bargained for when I came to this planet. When I agreed to that cestus match, I never imagined I’d end up in a high-stakes baking competition, let alone partnered with a pretty human who makes my heart race and my tail twitch.

But as we sit here, laughing, plotting, and making fun of our competition over a meal of local delicacies, I realize that maybe this detour could lead to something even sweeter than victory. And I find myself looking forward to every messy, thrilling, sugar-coated moment of it.