Page 141 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)

“May they be born in strength,” I mutter, tossing some ceremonial ash over my shoulder as Xandor slams the door behind us.

Groans echo down the corridor—long, awkward, and ominous.

Like the spooky ghost of painful regret.

Dracoth, Xandor, and I linger outside like the three ugly stepchildren the galaxy forgot to collect.

“Wild, huh?” I say, weakly.

“AAAHHH!” A shriek pierces the air, sending a chill up my spine.

“Yes,” Dracoth growls, his gaze fixed on the door.

“Sooo...” I chew on my lip, glancing at Xandor. “Slander, was it?” I play dumb, hoping to erase that smug little smile glued to his face like silly putty. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Sandra is? I’d hoped to speak with her again.”

It doesn’t work. His eyes glint with smug amusement. Mine twitch.

“Little Sandra? Oh, she and Logarn are off on a very important, top-secret hunt,” he says, sighing like a proud dad. “To think—wasn’t long ago he was just a corrupted youth with a hard-on for charging into Graviton orbs.”

“She’s eloped !?” I blurt. “With Blonde Goth?”

Visions of some black-eyelinered, moody teen abducting my poor, innocent Sandra assault my mind like a bad high school drama reboot.

“But... she’s my ginger-in-waiting.” I stroke Todd for comfort, wishing—for just a second—that he was red like Sandra.

Xandor only shrugs.

“What is she even like?” I sigh, betrayal’s oily aftertaste bubbling in my gut. “Let the shameless hussy go Double Agent Red Squirrel it up across the cosmos for all I care.”

I take a steadying breath. No, she’s a great friend—deserves her own Red Dragon, a blonde goth assassin to match her Ginga Ninja.

“I hope she’s happy.” I whisper, smiling.

“Xandor. Krogoth’s Second,” Dracoth growls, voice like manicure-nails dragged across a filer. “Last we spoke was atop the Peaks of Scarn...”

He inches closer—a muscle mountain looming. “Where, under the Elders’ protection, you named me bloated mutant .”

Our bond flares like wildfire—Dracoth’s fury not born of hate, but challenge. It sends a delicious ember fluttering through me, and I can’t help but grin at the idea of my Red Dragon wiping that smug off Xandor’s perfect face.

“Did I really say that?” Xandor gasps, clutching his chest with faux innocence, eyes glowing like molten gold.

“UUUUGHH!” A scream echoes from beyond the door, making me wince.

“Oh wait, yes,” Xandor snaps his fingers, a glint of fang beneath narrowed eyes. “Now I remember. I did call you a bloated mutant. And now? You’re a bald , bloated mutant.”

My fists tighten. “Listen, you little—”

“They say the Gods blessed your union. Made you fast,” Dracoth cuts me off like a sexy knife, turning me into buttery toast. “Your speed versus my strength. What say you?” He lifts a massive fist. Bone and sinew creak like breaking trees. “Arawnoth demands it.”

“Careful Arawnoth doesn’t lead you off a cliff, young War Chief,” Xandor replies, slow and deliberate. “But if you insist...” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Later. At the proving grounds. A spirited spar. For your safety, of course.”

His eyes flash like amber warning lights. “You won’t land a single blow. That I swear on my ancestors.” He smirks. Confident. Too confident. Something about it gives me pause.

“Ignore him,” I snort, waving a hand like he’s a stinky Todd fart. “We’ve got more important—”

“ Hubris ,” Dracoth mutters with a low chuckle. “Later, you choke on those foolish words, Second.”

“Brilliant,” I sigh, throwing my arms up.

“OOOHHH!” Another wail slices through the door, and my lady bits flinch in feminine sympathy.

I shoot a glare at Dracoth, suddenly annoyed at him. “That’s it. No more touching. You’re officially banned.” I point at his giant frame like his man meat is the harbinger of torture.

He doesn’t speak. Just stares—molten ruby eyes boring into me. Extra salty. Extra frowny.

Ut-oh.

Then—heat.

Warm. Pulsing. Centered .

“Ohhh...” A moan slips out. Cow-like. Betrayer .

“You’re such a che—” I catch the naughtiest, faintest smirk curling his lips.

“Ahh!” I squirm back against the wall, legs snapping shut. Now there’s—three?—little sneaky, dancing, throbbing pleasure bombs , turning me into a quivering goo.

Xandor sniffs, face scrunching. “Do you two smell burning borack meat?”

“You’re... probably having... a. Ah!” My hands brace against the wall as the waves build, converting my lyrical outburst into a perverse song. “A wonderful stroke !” I gasp, throwing in jazz hands for flair.

“That must be it,” Xandor says, nodding as if that made perfect sense. “I must have left the food dispenser on again,” he sighs, walking down the corridor. “Gods, their demands are unending.”

He disappears behind a door. I release a half-breath, half-squeal.

“Hey! Will you stop ?” I hiss, body still trembling under his infernal touch. “Rocks is popping out baby elephants next door, for Gods’ sake!”

I glare, eyes misty and sharp. “If you don’t, I’ll be forced to give you the best shield-job of your life!”

Pause.

Wait.

“Okay no—actually worst . I meant the worst. Terrible. Just—ugh!”

Dracoth lifts two fingers. The tantalizing heat disappears. I’m relieved—relieved and... regretful. I exhale slowly, standing straighter, trying to ignore the deep throbbing longing he ignited in me.

Then Xandor struts back in, banishing all naughty thoughts with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He tosses his half-cloak over his shoulder like he’s Batman or something. The Xandman.

“It wasn’t the food dispenser. What a surprise,” he drawls, sliding past us with a smirk, one hand already on the bedroom door. “But the other little puffrios are ready.” His eyes flash gold.

Then—I hear it. Faint cries. Newborns.

My heart stutters.

Xandor, the tease, doesn’t burst in. No. He just smiles. And it’s real—warm, almost reverent. “I can’t wait to meet your kids. Soon.” A wink. A nuclear mic-drop. And then he’s gone, slipping into the room beyond.

Wait. Kids?

My mouth opens and closes, forming incoherent shapes and sounds like a fish trying to speak English.

“K-kids. As in plural?” I turn to Dracoth. He’s smiling. Actually smiling. What the ever-living hell. “He’s just messing with us... right, babes?”

“Come,” he growls, gripping my hand and pulling me toward the cries.

Inside, awe hangs thick like mist.

Rocks, exhausted but glowing, cradles a bundle of fur in her arms. Krogoth stands beside her, all savage pride softened—his violet eyes locked on a second bundle in his massive hands.

“You did it, Pebbles,” he murmurs, voice catching. “A little boy and girl. The first in centuries. Two blessings beyond words.” He lets out a bark-laugh, kisses her forehead. “My Mortakin-Kis. My High Chieftainess. My love. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, Korgy,” Rocks mumbles, half-unconscious and all heart.

“You two stubborn borack asses,” Xandor grins, leaning over Krogoth’s shoulder. “Always knew you had it in you. Good job, Tyrxie.”

“It wasn’t me,” Tyrxie says, holding up both palms. “Rocks and the babies did all the heavy lifting.”

A weird, fluttery nervousness makes me creep forward like a shy zombie. I don’t want to break this beautiful, intimate spell.

“Are you going to tell everyone their names or what?” Xandor prompts, arms folded, leaning against an oversized wardrobe like he owns it.

Krogoth and Rocks share a look—then speak in unison. “Astraxius and Alice.”

Xandor nods solemnly. His eyes shimmer, golden and wet. “How I’ve longed to hear you speak those names, brother and sister.” His voice is low, reverent. “You honor Astraxius’s memory. And... Alice. That was your mother’s name, wasn’t it, Rocks?”

“Yes...” she whispers, eyes brimming with joyful, aching tears.

“That’s so sweet,” Tyrxie sighs, sounding utterly smitten.

I edge closer. I see them. Big, bouncy babies with light-red skin, pointed ears, and huge, curious eyes—a sparkling mix of violet and hazel. My breath catches. My heart hammers. Cuteness overload achieved.

“Ah,” I whisper to Todd, nudging His Royal Plumpness. “Look—little Divine Cherub cousins for you to frolic with.” Todd blinks fast, clearly thrilled.

“They’re so stinkin’ cute,” I coo, reaching out with a finger. Baby Alice grabs it with impressive strength, needle-sharp claws curling tight. “Strong, too,” I laugh, fishing some ash from my belt pouch.

“Look how big and hale they are,” Dracoth murmurs over my shoulder, voice a molten whisper. “They will grow to be stronger than even their noble father.” He’s grinning again. That’s twice in one day. Someone check the cosmos.

“May I?” I ask, holding up the pinch of ash to Rocks and Krogoth.

“It would be an honor,” Krogoth replies. Rocks nods with a tired smile.

I kneel, speaking low: “Born in strength... Astraxius and Alice.” I smear the ash gently on each tiny forehead. “Arawnoth, burn away their weakness. Let them bathe in your molten truth. Let their hearts beat strong and proud. Let their resolve carry your ancient legacy.”

I smile, warmth bursting through me. “And let them adore their Auntie Lexie.”

My fingers graze the runes carved across my chest—they ignite, veins of lava lighting up across my skin, burning hotter than ever before. I trace the sacred sigils in the air between them, power humming, heart overflowing with fierce, transcendent love.

“Let the cycle burn eternal.”