Page 101

Alexandra

Catch up

T hrough our bond, Dracoth’s pride soars, warm and unyielding like a wildfire. But in typical Dracoth style, he tempers it with only the briefest nod.

“It was a glorious battle,” he rumbles, crimson eyes flashing as he tears into the charred meat with a ferocity that makes it look like he’s still fighting the beast for his life.

I sniff my plate cautiously. No scent. It looks dry—dry as Michael made me.

If we were back on Earth, I’d send it back without a second thought.

But witnessing Dracoth and Celutok rip through theirs like starving wolves at a gourmet feast, I keep my complaints to myself.

Grumbling would probably get me thrown out of Scarn—or worse, accused of dishonoring the fish monster’s ancestors or some equally ridiculous nonsense.

“It must have been incredible!” Sandra exclaims, craning her neck to get a better look at the immense skeletal remains looming behind us, like something straight out of a dinosaur exhibit.

The Magaxus swarm the fallen beast, poking and prodding at its carcass while happily eating their share of the kill. “Just look at the bloody size of it!”

“Nothing my Dracoth can’t handle,” I chime in, sidling closer to my towering red radiator, trying to soothe my bubbling irritation that I forgot to praise him myself. “He’s the strongest,” I purr, fluttering my lashes at him for good measure.

Of course, the rude prick leaves me hanging, just glaring down at me with an expression that could mean anything. The flecks of meat clinging to his face like stubborn zits do not help my disappointment.

“It would please me more if you ate,” he grumbles, gesturing toward my untouched stone plate. “Honor my offering.”

And to think I thought blowing his mind in the bedroom every night was enough.

“Says you, with half of it stuck on your face,” I tut, standing on tiptoe to swipe at Dracoth’s towering cheek.

He just stands like a giant statue while I struggle not to laugh, maintaining an air of feigned annoyance.

“Honestly, without me, you’d be wandering around with a bone in your nose, banging rocks together. ”

There!

The faintest curl at the corner of his mouth—practically roaring laughter from anyone else. Elation floods through me at the sight.

Ah, sweet victory.

Satisfied, I turn to Sandra, exchanging an uncertain look.

Both of us eye the less-than-appetizing meat slabs on our stone plates.

I sigh and shrug, picking up a piece of the sizzling monster steak.

Sandra mirrors me, and as we each take a tiny, tentative nibble, the corners of our mouths twitch, threatening to break into giggles.

It’s awful. Like biting into overcooked chicken breast—dry, dense, and tasteless, with all the charm of my old stiletto heels. I nearly spit it out but stop myself, glancing at Dracoth looming nearby. His crimson eyes are locked on me, full of expectation.

Is this a test? Does choking down disgusting meat earn you extra points in their honor system? Ugh. What I’d give for an Italian Caprese Panini right now.

“Mmm,” Sandra hums, her voice so fake it could win an Oscar for Worst Acting. “It tastes so good, Dracoth,” she says, her jaw crunching down like she’s chewing gravel. I can’t help grin at her blatant lie.

Dracoth nods, appearing pleased, sending a loathsome pang of jealousy through me.

How can he be so blind?

“Oh, Sandra,” I say sweetly, smirking as I gesture to her plate. “You missed a piece there. Wouldn’t want to waste any of this delicious food, would you?”

Her eyes snap to mine, wide with betrayal, but I’m already reveling in her misery. She bites down another chunk, her jaw working overtime, and I barely manage to stifle a laugh.

“Thanks, Lexie,” Sandra says through gritted teeth, tone polite, but her face paints a very different picture—a promise of revenge. But I can’t help myself, finding it too amusing as I struggle not to burst into fits of laughter. “But what about you? Why don’t you tell us what you think?”

Shit, the clever bitch!

A nervous giggle squeaks out of me as everyone’s eager gaze falls on me.

“Well... um,” I mutter, picking up another piece that could easily be mistaken for white masonry.

Nope! I can’t do it.

“It’s tough and tastes like a brick,” I blurt out, rounding on Dracoth, daring him to reprimand me for speaking the simple truth. “There, I said it. This stupid Sock-Chair, or whatever it’s called—”

Tastes like a sock too.

“Sneachir,” Sandra corrects, laughing her stupid ginger head off.

“Whatever!” I snap, crossing my arms, my cheeks burning.

Dracoth glares at me like Mr. Judgy Judgerson. But I’m not like Sandra, I’ll always speak my mind. I meet his glare head-on, my stubbornness as unyielding as his bulging muscles.

“Weak human jaws,” he growls low and taunting after a tense and surprisingly alluring stand-off.

I’ll show him weak later, when he’s singing my name like he’s performing at the Opera.

Dracoth breaks the tension, turning his sharp gaze to the farmer, who’s somehow managed to polish off every scrap of his meal.

“Sandra spoke well of you, Celutok,” he rumbles, picking my ears up—every word from my murder husband is as rare as my mother’s affection. “Join the warriors at my side.”

I almost choke. Celutok? He’s the smallest, least intimidating Klendathian I’ve seen yet, and for Dracoth to actually offer something? He must be desperate.

Celutok’s brown eyes widen in shock. “You honor me again, great War Chieftain,” he blurts, excitement lighting up his face.

“But...” His expression crumples, and his gaze drops to the black stone ground.

“I’m no warrior. It shames me to say in such company, but I’ve not completed the Proving Pilgrimage. ”

Proving Pilgrimage? Wait, there’s more than one? Knowing these guys, it probably involves being buried alive with poisonous snakes crossed with giant mutant crocodiles—snako-diles.

“Shame,” Dracoth grunts dismissively.

“Better to be safe here, looking after the herd, right, Celutok?” Sandra chimes in, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Yes,” Celutok mutters, though his hesitation betrays him. He glances at Sandra, offering a faint smile. “Yes, that is my place. Here, tending to my herd,” he adds, trying—and failing—to sound convincing.

Sandra smiles, placing a hand on his wrist with genuine warmth. But she misses the obvious—because she’s all na?ve sweet gingerbread and plushy optimism—Celutok doesn’t want to be a farmer. He wants to be a warrior, like he’s brethren. He just... isn’t cut out for it.

Sad, really. But that’s life.

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re not off fighting who-knows-what,” Sandra says with a nod, completely oblivious to the subtle slump of his shoulders at her words.

“Oh,” I interject, a wicked idea bubbling to the surface. “I thought you two were going to move in together and start breeding... snail monsters.”

“Very funny, Lexie,” Sandra retorts, her blue-eyed glare could freeze the sun.

“I’ll have a junker ship take you back to Earth,” Dracoth cuts in, his hand darting over his shimmering blue wrist console.

A ship filled with those rapey alien creeps? I’d rather face the snako-dile.

“Wait!” Sandra exclaims, raising a hand to stop him. Her face lights with sudden resolve, and she looks between Dracoth and me, nervous but determined.

“I was thinking...” she trails off, sucking in a breath before finishing in a rush. “I could come with you?”

“No way, really?” I blurt, utter delight brightening my face. Without thinking, I rush forward and pull her into a fierce hug, squeezing harder than intended—Dracoth-style. Sandra lets out a soft grunt of protest, but I don’t care. “By Arawnoth, this is going to be so much more fun now!”

I release her, my grin still wide enough to hurt.

Sandra’s joyous expression mirrors my own, and the realization sends a warm flutter through my chest. I always thought she’d be on the first ticket back to Earth, but now?

With her around, I’ll feel a little less like a lost Earthling with someone familiar in this ocean of alien strangeness.

“This is your wish?” Dracoth asks, his eyes narrowing as he fixes Sandra with an intense stare, as though she’s playing some kind of prank.

“Of course it is!” I dismissively wave away Dracoth’s annoying question. “Ah, you won’t regret this! We’ll totally be bossing it up as War Chieftainess and her Ginger-in-Waiting.” I clap my hands with delight, barely containing my glee.

“Ginger-in-Waiting?” Sandra echoes, her grin widening. “Lexie, you’re such a rude cow,” she teases, and we both burst into laughter. The confused look Celutok flashes toward Dracoth only makes it funnier.

As our giggles subside, Sandra speaks up again. “Maybe I’ll go back to Earth someday, but I’m not passing up this once-in-a-lifetime chance to explore alien planets just yet.” She pauses, her expression turning curious. “Wait, where are we going?”

“To our destiny, my people’s glorious revival,” Dracoth grumbles, gazing into the distant cavernous tunnel, trying to be all super-dramatic War Chieftain alien boss man.

I roll my eyes, careful to do it out of his sight, eliciting another soft giggle from Sandra.

“We’re going to give this Drexios guy a reality check,” I add, my tone sharpening unexpectedly. The bubbling anger in my chest surprises even me.

“Oh, the other fella claiming to be War...” Sandra’s words falter, her expression tightening, perhaps sensing the simmering rage radiating from Dracoth.

Fuck’s sake, Sandra.

“There is only me!” Dracoth roars, his crimson eyes igniting like smoldering coals. “As soon as the vipertail, Ignixis, reveals the pretender’s location, I will descend upon him like a meteorite!”

Celutok stumbles back, eyes wide, while Sandra holds her hands up defensively. But Dracoth’s rage floods through our bond, filling me with the same teeth-clenching desire to crush whoever this pretender prick is to gooey red paste.