Page 287 of Scorching the Alien Empire
The words hang in the air. The same wordsheonce said to me. And I pretended not to hear.
Now... now he’s slipping away. And he mightneverknow.
“Fall asleep in my arms,” I murmur, voice cracking. “We’ll wake up together again.” I cradle his head in my lap, his huge body sagging against me like a crumbling wall. My tears fall onto his face, wishing they could mend his bleeding wounds.
His breath comes in strained, choking gasps. He’s still fighting it—fighting to stay awake. Like if he closes his eyes, I’ll vanish.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, tears falling freely. “I’ll always be here. With you. Together. Just us. Bossing it up in our Dracoth-Lexie-verse...”
The sob hits me mid-sentence, shaking me. I bury my face in his neck, holding him like he’s the only thing keeping me alive. Because heis.
I’m afraid he’ll disappear. Afraid my soul will shatter into a thousand icy shards cast into a bottomless pit of pain. It’s where I belong. What I deserve. He should hate me. Gods,Ihate me. But he’s still here. Still holding on. Forme.
His eyes squeeze shut. His breath—shallow. Ragged. So faint.
No.
A sharp hairpin digs into my skull. I glance up—Krogoth stands. Barely.
Trembling hand raised, dripping with blood, a nightmare hiding under the bed. My shieldsshatter, devoured by the flickering vortex coiling around him like a dying serpent. It vanishes as he staggers forward, each step agony made flesh.
“The fight’s over,” I declare, voice cutting through the silence like a shard of glass. My gaze sweeps across the stunned masses—some scrambling over the lava ring to reach their Chieftain. “Don’t come any closer!” I snarl, my eyes blazing with silver-crimson mist, every atom of me ready to die before I let them touch Dracoth.
“He needs help,” Bitch Brick says solemnly, rushing to Krogoth’s side. She cups his bloodied face with reverent hands. “Oh, Korgy. Never again. Promise me.”
“Never again,” he rasps, their foreheads pressed together, noses rubbing, his voice raw and muffled by his shattered face.
“We’re going to need Tyrxie to fix this,” she sighs, inspecting the jagged claw marks carved across his chest and stomach. “You look like a tic-tac-toe game.”
“No, Pebbles,” he croaks, mouth full of cotton wool. “I wear this with pride.” He stumbles, only Bitch Brick keeps him from falling.
Meanwhile—myDracoth is barely breathing.
I need a healing pod. Now.My eyes dart across the battlefield—molten rock, slagged murder-bots. Nothing on this deathball planet.
Then—above. Blueberry heads. Hovering in their pristine sleek ships. Watching from on high like evil cherubs in floating clouds of pure smug.
I raise my hands in the air. Channeling all my divine power into the bellowing black clouds. Shieldseruptacross the heavens—thousands of them—snaring the Smurf fleet in a mirrored dome that gleams like a bloodstained contact lens.
“What are you doing!?” Bitch Brick’s voice rings out. Her purple-hazel eyes glare upward, then down at me. “Alexandra!?”
“Getting help,” I grunt, through gritted teeth. The strain isimmense—like cooking a ten-course dinner on a stove made of live grenades.
Smurf ships scramble. A few fire on the barrier—panic fire. But they can’t escape. I won’t let them. Not until they help my Dracoth.
Then—one descends.
It hovers close, kicking up ash and murmurs as it approaches. Robo-Nibs pour from its flanks, gold-trimmed and gleaming, flanking a floating platform shaped like a bad casino bet.
Consul Juliara.
That stupid circular disc framing her blonde head makes her look like a floating coin slot on a gaming machine.
My fists clench. My molars groan.
“What is themeaningof this!?” she bellows, riding her platform like a furious parade float. “You two—” she waves a finger at Dracoth and me. “—we had adeal! And now you dare raise weapons against the Twin-Sunned Empire in failure!?”
“IF. YOU. DON’T. HELP. MY. BABES.” I growl through clenched teeth, voice shaking with divine fury, “I WILL CRUSHYOUR FUCKING SMURF EMPIRE IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO.”
