Page 171 of Scorching the Alien Empire
I’m not that same Lexie anymore. Not the girl I was back on Earth. Not even the person I was when Dracoth first kidnapped me. No. I am so much more. The Divine Daughter. Surrounded by mortals.
A thrill surges in my chest. My eyes narrow, lips curling into a smirk. “Make me,” I challenge, nearly laughing at the absurdity—this ten-foot mountain of muscle helpless before me.
His hands clench, bones creaking, tension radiating from his body in waves of alluring heat.
That’s it, Dracoth. Get angry. Summon Arawnoth’s flames. Burn me with his love again.
“Do it!” I sneer, slapping his black-metal armor, the gem-infused plating warm beneath my palm. “Do it! Burn me. Prove we belong together!” My breath comes fast, ragged, the anticipation coiling inside me. “I need his heat, his love! Please, Dracoth—burn me!”
His eyes flicker.
Then, they falter.
Disappointing. Pathetic.
Just a basic man now. So boring.
Through our bond, I feel his pain ripple back to me, but it only deepens my disgust. The disdain I can’t hide anymore makes me shudder. I wouldn’t be surprised if cries about this too.
They say never judge a book by its cover... but he promised so much more than an inexperienced crybaby who can’t even keep his wee sparklers up.
“Princesa...” His voice wavers as his hand rises toward me.
“Don’t touch me, you creeper!” I snap, slapping his hand away, the notion is revolting like wiggling sausages against my skin.
He inhales slowly, deeply, before straightening, his expression hardening, the shadows around him seeming to grow deeper.
“We’re moments from Argon Six,” he states, his tone clipped and controlled. “The Nebian-Scythian battlefront. If you do not release him”— he tilts his head toward Drexios, still pinned and smirking— “if you do not help us, then all of us—even you—will die.”
“Fine!”
With a flick of my wrist, the barriers vanish.
Drexios drops like a sack of bricks, armor clanking as his gauntlets and knees slam against the floor. He sucks in huge, gasping breaths, like some drowned rat surfacing for air.
“Whatever,” I huff. “Just remember that I’m the one in charge now.”
My gaze snaps to Drexios as he steadies himself, still grinning like an absolute lunatic. “That goes double for you.” I jab a sharp finger at his face. “Disrespect me again, and we’ll see how long you survive trapped inside my shields, drifting through space.”
Drexios inclines his head, his single red eye glinting beneath the shadows. “I—”
“Drexios.” Dracoth cuts him off like a blade, his voice sharp, commanding. He gestures toward a nearby terminal. “Operate the cannons.”
“Oh, I live to serve.” Drexios grins, performing a theatrical bow so deep he practically folds in half like a pair of scissors. “War Chief.” He shuffles backward, still bent over, cackling to himself like an escaped lunatic from an asylum.
A shiver runs through me. Whether it’s from Drex-iot’s unsettling laughter or the loss of Dracoth’s lovely heat, I’m not sure.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I call after him, watching as he stomps off like a not-so-jolly-red giant toward my throne.
I cross my arms. “That’s my seat.”
Less than a minute of my glorious reign, and he’s already challenging my hard-won authority. Typical.
Dracoth glances over his shoulder, the glow of the holographic terminals casting sharp angles across his face.
“Could you control this ship?” he growls. “Fly it through the asteroid field that so disgraced you?”
Disgraced?
