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The Inconvenience

They call me a god.

It is an inefficient title.

God implies distance. Worship. A figure seated somewhere above consequence, clean-handed and eternal, while lesser beings bleed beneath him.

I have never been clean-handed.

I have ruled systems. Rewritten planetary defense grids. Silenced wars before they became history. I have stood at the center of rooms full of kings and watched them lower their eyes because survival has a language, and everyone understands it eventually.

I know...

Sovereign was patient.

Legendary patience.

Historical patience.

The kind of patience developed by surviving centuries.

Unfortunately, patience had limits.

And Ra was rapidly locating all of them.

It started with another mission.

Then another.

Then another.

Close calls.

Dangerous situations.

Moments where she laughed at death and somehow won.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time Sovereign's internal dialogue became progressively less diplomatic.

She cannot keep doing this.

Five minutes later:

Why is she doing...

R.H. Legner was taken on Inkitt, so apparently the universe said, “Fine. Let her reign.”

Same writer. Same wild imagination. More cosmic chaos, dangerous men, forbidden desire, broken empires, living machines, dragons, missing children, and women who finally remember they were never born to obey.

My new Inkitt-exclusive sci-fi romantasy serial is now live:

THE SATURN PRIESTESS

The Veil Chronicles, Book One

Nysera Vael was supposed to be...

Some moments arrive quietly.

No lightning.

No music.

No dramatic announcements.

Just a conversation.

A pause.

A choice.

This was one of those moments.

The mission had ended.

Everyone survived.

Which counted as success.

Ra sat alone on the observation deck.

Stars stretched endlessly beyond the glass.

Beautiful.

Ancient.

Indifferent.

The door opened.

She didn't need to turn.

She already knew.

Sovereign.

Of course.

Who else?

He sat beside her.

Neither spoke.

Comfortable silence.

Dangerous silence.

The kind that invites...

There was a gala.

Which was already a problem.

Ra hated galas.

Too many dresses.

Too many speeches.

Too many rich people pretending they enjoyed tiny portions of expensive food.

Meanwhile she was mentally calculating whether she could stop for tacos afterward.

The answer was yes.

Always yes.

She entered the ballroom.

The room shifted.

Not dramatically.

Subtly.

The way water shifts around a ship.

The way gravity alters a room.

The way powerful people notice another powerful person.

Ra ignored it.

As usual.

Then...

Ra had a theory.

A terrible theory.

The kind of theory that sounded brilliant at two in the morning and ridiculous by breakfast.

The theory was simple:

Men were easier when they chased.

You knew where you stood.

They flirted.

You ignored them.

They flirted harder.

Everyone played their assigned role.

Simple.

Predictable.

Safe.

Sovereign ruined all of that.

Because Sovereign never chased.

Ever.

Which was deeply annoying.

A lesser man would've sent flowers.

Sovereign sent opportunities.

A lesser man would've...

Everyone feared Mehen.

For good reason.

Ancient.

Powerful.

Terrifying.

The sort of being who could end wars simply by deciding he was bored.

Naturally, everyone assumed he was the biggest threat.

Everyone except Sovereign.

Who remained completely unimpressed.

Which should have been alarming.

Because confident people fear gods.

Wise people fear gods.

Only two categories don't.

Fools.

Or equals.

Sovereign wasn't a fool.

And Mehen knew it.

The first time they truly looked at one another, the atmosphere shifted.

...

The problem with found family is simple.

You stop realizing how insane your life sounds.

For example:

Most people define friendship as coffee.

Maybe brunch.

Possibly emotional support.

Ra's friends?

Different standards.

If she called at three in the morning and said:

"I accidentally started an interplanetary incident."

Nobody would ask if she was okay.

They'd ask for coordinates.

That was the problem.

And the blessing.

Because the people around her weren't merely allies.

They were hers.

Tyler.

Erik.

The entire...

Power recognizes power.

That much was universal.

Which explained why gods became uncomfortable around Ra.

At first, she didn't notice.

Who pays attention to gods acting strangely?

Especially when your schedule includes surgery, alien enforcement missions, and avoiding emotionally complicated men.

Normal stuff.

Then patterns emerged.

Ancient beings paused when she entered rooms.

Federation leaders monitored her missions.

Entire conversations stopped when her name appeared.

And suddenly, the impossible...

Nobody warns women about ancient men.

Not rich men.

Not successful men.

Ancient men.

The kind who have seen empires rise and collapse.

The kind who speak softly because they've already had every argument possible.

The kind who know exactly who they are.

Which is profoundly unfair.

Because confidence becomes dangerous when it's earned.

Sovereign wasn't young.

Not really.

His face suggested forty.

His body suggested perfection.

His eyes suggested he remembered things history forgot.

And that should have...

There are rich men.

Then there is Sovereign.

The kind of man who could buy a city before breakfast and still spend lunch redesigning the future.

The kind of man who never raises his voice because reality usually adjusts itself before he has to.

Which should have made him unbearable.

Instead?

It made him fascinating.

Ra hated that.

The first time she met him, she assumed he was another billionaire with too much money and not enough supervision.

The second time she met him, she realized he was far more...

She was supposed to save lives.

Not rewrite fate.

Ra is a rising medical resident chasing one thing—becoming a surgeon and building a life that makes sense. Structured. Controlled. Human.

But her reality fractures the moment she’s pulled into a truth most people will never survive knowing.

Because by night, Ra isn’t just a doctor.

She’s an Envoy.

Part of an elite Galactic Federation unit enforcing off-world laws no human was meant to understand—stopping abductions, dismantling human harvesting...

Okay.

Let’s review the situation.

Ra stood in her chambers, staring at herself in the mirror like she might file a formal complaint against her own life.

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “Truly. Excellent choices all around.”

She reached behind her, unhooking the clasps of her gown with more force than necessary, the fabric sliding down her body like it was also judging her.

Because it should be.

Everything should be.

“You married a god,” she said to her reflection. “A god. Capital G. Serpent. Ancient....

The night should have calmed her.

It didn’t.

Ra stepped onto the balcony barefoot, heels abandoned somewhere behind her like a decision she refused to pick back up. The cool stone grounded her just enough to pretend she wasn’t still vibrating from everything that had just happened.

The music from the gala spilled faintly through the doors behind her—muted, distant, like a life she was temporarily stepping out of.

Good.

She needed distance.

She needed air.

She needed—

Peace.

Her laugh from earlier...

Tyler knew exactly when Mehen locked onto him.

Not because he looked.

Because the air shifted.

Pressure—thick, deliberate, ancient—rolled through the corridor like something that didn’t believe in doors or boundaries or polite introductions.

Tyler didn’t move right away.

He leaned back against the marble column, arms loose, long golden hair falling over his shoulders as if he’d just stepped off a beach instead of out of a political war zone dressed like a gala.

6’2. Lean. Cut like a weapon someone...

He felt it.

Not the act.

The shift.

That was the difference between men and gods.

Men needed evidence.

Gods needed… disturbance.

And Ra had returned disturbed.

Mehen didn’t follow her immediately.

That would have been… pedestrian.

Instead, he waited.

Because jealousy, when wielded correctly, is not loud.

It is surgical.

Ra entered his chamber without knocking.

Bold.

Predictable.

Beautiful.

She moved like she was still deciding something—shoulders too still, breath too measured, gold catching light like she...

The worst part about restraint—

It teaches your body exactly what it’s denying.

Erik knew that.

He had built a life on that knowledge.

Discipline. Loyalty. Structure. Clean lines.

A man who made decisions once and stood by them. A man who didn’t waver, didn’t spiral, didn’t let emotion hijack the architecture of his life.

That man—

was not currently in charge.

Because Ra was standing in front of him again.

And the universe, apparently, had decided to test him like he hadn’t already passed enough...

This is a mistake.

Not a small one either. Not a “text him back at 2 am and pretend it didn’t happen” kind of mistake.

No—this is a rewrite-your-life, destabilize-your-soul, question-every-choice-you’ve-made kind of mistake.

And the worst part?

I knew it the second I saw him.

Erik.

Standing there, like restraint learned how to wear a suit and get expensive about it.

Tall. Too tall. Broad shoulders like he personally offended gravity. That quiet, dangerous stillness that makes people think he’s calm...

This is a bad idea.

Let me be very clear.

This is not a “hmm, maybe I shouldn’t” situation.

This is a career-ending, marriage-threatening, fate-mocking, absolutely catastrophic idea.

And yet—

I’m walking toward her anyway.

Because apparently, I am not as evolved as I thought.

Ra is standing near the edge of the terrace again, like she owns the concept of solitude. Gold catching moonlight. Braids down her back. Looking like every bad decision I’ve ever made decided to reincarnate with better...

The door closed behind them with a finality that felt like a decision neither of them had formally made.

Ra didn’t turn around.

She stood in the center of Mehen’s private chamber, spine straight, shoulders squared, breath controlled by sheer force of will. The room itself felt like him—low light, gold flickers against stone, shadows that didn’t behave as shadows should.

“Say it,” Mehen’s voice came from behind her, calm, amused, already knowing.

Ra exhaled slowly.

“I don’t answer to you.”

A soft,...