Page 292 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Looks like someone turned a boomerang into a murder stick,” I mutter, unimpressed.
“Vorthax will curse my name,” he growls. His arms tense, muscles coiling like tectonic plates as he heaves on the mangled shaft. It groans and creaks like some metallic beast with a toothache. Then—with a grunt and a flash of pure meathead jock determination—he straightens it.
“Boom. Problem solved,” I bark a short laugh, impressed.
“No.” He turns the axe, testing its weight, gaze shadowed. “Not justStormcleaver. But vengeance lost.” His fingers tighten on the hilt. “The future I swore. The one I failed to deliver.”
His eyes meet mine—raw, blistering with unspoken guilt. It scorches through our bond. “I don’t know what comes next. High Chieftain Krogoth may demand I kiss Scarn’s volcanic heart for defying him.”
My breath stutters.
“Exile, if he’s merciful,” he mutters, tone suggesting that’s unlikely. “If I survive, I will scourge the Scythian filth from the stars. Alone if I must.” His eyes blaze like volcanic glass. “That is the glorious destiny Ignixis promised. A path of fire and blood. A flame to cleanse, not destroy.”
He takes my hands. His heat rolls over me in waves. “This is who I am. What I am. I can’t offer you beautiful Klendathor. The title of High Chieftain. The opulent Nebian Empire. Only war.”
How cute. He’s trying to scare me off again. But like Todd, I’ll cling to his head like we’re nesting for a long winter.
“First,” I say sweetly, “the only thing getting kissed ismy assif Krogoth Cringe-Eyes even thinks about laying a claw on you.” My smile’s sugar. My glare’s steel. “Especially after you spared that prick from coughing his lungs up.”
I take a deep, steadying breath.
“Second. I won’t lie, Dracoth. I need control. Power. Adoration. That’s whoIam,” I trace a finger over the scorched runes seared into my chest and neck. “But let them have Klendathor. You and me? We’ll carve out our own Dracie-Lexie-verse. Smash the murder-bots, steal all their toys. I’m not greedy—just a couple planets, a few palaces... you know, the usual stuff.”
I laugh—low, husky. The thought alone lights a fire inside me. “Together, we’ll boss it up. Unstoppable. Glorious. The ultimate power couple.”
His hand cups my cheek, rough and reverent. “Princesa...”
“Oh!” I gasp, remembering. “Speaking of being completely perfect, I’ve got another gift for you.” I giggle, glancing over my shoulder as I retrieve it from the wrapped pile like I’m Santa’s Sexy Helper.
“Another?” His voice softens in disbelief. “You honor me.”
“Don’t say that until youseeit,” I warn, holding it out like I’m presenting a soufflé to the galaxy’s most terrifying cooking judge.
He rips the cloth off like it’s my panties on a victory night.
“Well?” I blurt before it’s even halfway unwrapped, my traitor Lexie-moths dive-bombing my insides like they’ve spotted a Chanel clearance sale.
A grin slowly unfurls across his lips as he unveils his shiny new—not-at-all-gross—belt.
A smile? That’s basically a ticker-tape parade by Dracoth standards.
“Hemo-Tok?” he rumbles, eyes flicking to mine. Then—gods help me—a deep, booming laugh shakes out of him like thunder in a cozy log cabin. My heart goes full supernova. “You crafted this?” he asks, turning the belt over. The faux-spines wobble like creepy wind chimes, swinging between the dangling hooks like the world’s most aggressive bead curtain.
“Youlikeit!” I squeal, clapping like an overcaffeinated seal at a fish-chunk festival. “I totally did! Though...” I eye the weird frayed bits with a frown. “I couldn’t quite get the... um,bloody-stringy gutspart right.”
Probably for the best. I shudder just thinking about it.
“And the bones?” I point proudly. “Plastic replicas. I mean, they turned out decent, but they’re just placeholders until we—uh,acquiresome fresh ribcages. Or! We could use murder-bot parts instead. Much more hygienic. Less...slimy horror film.”
“Oh, and I’m making one for Todd too! So he can wear it instead of his bowtie during fights. Fear shall descend when enemies hear the cherub ruffle of fallen jelly stick wrappers—the Wrapper-Tok.”I reach to tickle his jelly belly, only to find him already dozing like a pudgy war god in hibernation.
He’s going to look so cute!
I giggle, lifting the snoozing Divine Cherub from Dracoth’s head and draping him over my shoulders like a warm, weaponized neck pillow.
“I know the disgust you once had for my Hemo-Tok,” Dracoth says softly, his voice thick with something molten and dangerous—emotion. His gaze pins me like I’m prey and he’s not sure whether to kiss me or worship me.
“That you overcame it... for me.” He lifts the belt in one powerful hand like it’s sacred. “To craftthis.”
