Page 25

I gasp as the bolts crash into the gross alien ship. Pale green barriers flash for an instant before succumbing to the blue blazing star-like orbs. Now, unimpeded, the bolts crash into its hull with devastating force.

“Holy crap!” I exclaim, watching in awe as the entire side of the alien ship melts off in liquefied streams of blue-green material, streaming off into space like twisted, candied tendrils before solidifying into floating debris.

It’s shocking and mesmerizing, but eerily silent. Not a single tone—just Dracoth’s wind tunnel-like breathing and my hushed gasps. It feels wrong, almost unnatural, for something so large and awe-inspiring to lack sound.

Cascading explosions ripple throughout the gross alien ship, bathing the horrible thing in flickering green flames, which are quickly extinguished in the vacuum of space. The vessel breaks apart—at least the parts that survived being turned into molten blue-green goo.

How many aliens died onboard? The funny thing is, I only feel a strange sense of pride, like our team won; we beat back the attackers.

“So long, losers,” I smirk, tossing my blonde hair over my shoulder as I turn back to Dracoth.

Like our team won.

The thought returns, carrying with it a new, unexpected thrill.

Standing over the unconscious Dracoth, I study his massive frame.

His broad chest rises and falls like peaks of a mountain, the crimson-emerald mist spilling from his mask, like his insides are fire.

What does it mean? He’s so... immense. Unstoppable.

Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all wrong?

What if I get him on my side? He’s already shown he will protect us.

If he is rich and someone of importance, why not hook up with him?

Maybe even convince him to return to Earth!

My own giant red alien boyfriend? How exciting!

God, the look on Mother’s face will be hilarious!

And the next time that bore James opens his stupid mouth, I’ll get Dracoth to close it shut.

Ah, such a lovely thought.

Though I frown, glancing down at my perv-ified Chanel suit.

He’s definitely rough around the edges. I’ll have to teach him how to behave like a proper gentleman around a high-class lady—just like those women who marry brutish sports stars.

Only he’s bigger... and an alien. But nobody’s born perfect—not even me.

Unable to contain the growing excitement fluttering in my stomach, I reach down to remove his frightening mask.

There’s resistance as I struggle to pull the hard metal from his face.

Why is everything with Dracoth so difficult?

Just as I worry, I might tear his face off, the mask comes away, hissing as air rushes to fill the gaps.

The force of my pulling carries me thudding to the gore-strewn ground with a squeal. Covered in more guts. Wonderful. Dracoth’s mask, still resting in my hands, is surprisingly heavy, and the warmth from the side that touched his face almost scalds my hands, forcing me to drop it.

He really is a hothead!

Rising to my feet, I straighten, studying his face. He does look young, maybe even younger than me, but who knows when dealing with aliens?

“Hmm,” I ponder with a hand beneath my chin. He is pleasingly human-looking, well, compared to those other freaky weird aliens, anyway. Just, you know, the red skin, long ears, massive sword-like claws, horrifying fangs poking out like a vampire, and eyes glowing like hot coals.

Yep, nothing major. Just a few red flags. It’ll be fine, Lexie!

I suppose he is handsome, in a brutish kind of way.

At least I think so. It’s hard to tell with that perpetual scowl plastered across his face.

Even in sleep, he manages to look angry—typical of the giant perv.

He’s not my usual type, either, harsh with deep brows and a strong jawline that looks like it could crack boulders.

I like pretty men with easy smiles who are eager to please.

As I study Dracoth, all I see is red. Red hair, red skin, red eyes... red like a stop sign, red flags waving in my face. Red. Red. Red. A red dragon in humanoid form, ready to incinerate anyone who dares get too close.

I let out a deep breath, coming to a decision—I will tame the beast. It’ll be fun. Men are easy to seduce. He’ll be no different. A smirk curls my lip as I think of how to work my feminine charms and carry out my plan.

Hopefully, he wakes up soon so I can get started.

Tentatively, I brush my fingers across his cheek, but the moment I touch him, a searing heat shoots through my hand like I’ve just pressed it against a hot stove.

“Ow! You’re burning up,” I mutter, growing concerned.

“What the infierno are you doing, Princesa ?” Carmen’s voice rings out from the shadows of the corridor, startling me. I whip around, face flushing with embarrassment at how this might appear. Did she see me stroking his face?

“Why did you remove the pendejo’s mask?” she demands, her words laced with irritation as she waves the blinding light of Kazumi’s phone at me.

Turning, shielding my eyes, I realize that’s not all Carmen’s brought.

Kazumi and Sandra follow in tow. I suppress a sigh.

This is the help she brings? The two crybabies.

Like bringing flip-flops to a ski retreat.

I bolt upright, scrambling for an excuse.

“I was checking his pulse, but he’s burning up. ”

Kazumi’s eyes widen, spying the horrific gory scenes that surround us, while Sandra—partially nude, her garish pajamas torn to bloody shreds—rushes forward, pushing past Carmen and Kazumi.

“Dracoth!” She yells, her thick Scottish accent filled with surprising concern.

Jeez, she’s a mess. Wonder what happened to her. Nothing good, by the looks of it. “Sandra, are you—”

“Oh, Dracoth!” The rude bitch interrupts me, shoving me aside to kneel by the giant unconscious perv.

I’ve seen this before—the classic drama queen act.

Feigning heartache for attention. Just like Stacy, when her uncle died—she made a massive deal about it for weeks, milking sympathy.

Her uncle? Please. Try growing up with a father that wishes you never existed, then you’ll know what real heartache is.

Sandra gasps as she examines Dracoth’s face. I stifle a groan at her fakery. Please stop, it’s so embarrassing! She touches his face with trembling hands before pulling back with a wince, sucking on her fingers. Didn’t she listen to a word I said?

“He’s on fire!” Sandra exclaims, frantically checking his body for signs of injury.

“Don’t worry, all those... guts belong to them.

” I reply, gesturing to the cooling piles of gruesome alien corpses, their stench becoming hard to ignore.

“I don’t know what happened. We were all just talking,” I begin, sharing a look with Carmen, omitting the part where she was arguing and threatening to shoot Dracoth.

She owes me one! “Then he just keeled over.” I shrug, having no explanation.

“You chicas are loca !” Carmen snaps, her brow furrowed in disbelief as she looks between Sandra and me.

“Who cares what happened to the hijo de puta ?” She jabs a finger at Sandra.

“We should escape. This is our chance. I thought you’d talk some sense into our Princesa here.

But you’re just as loca .” She rounds on Kazumi next. “And you? What do you say?”

Kazumi shuffles closer to Dracoth, her eyes fixated on his strange wrist device. “We help him,” she murmurs, earning a groan of exasperation from Carmen, who throws her hands in the air, spitting a stream of Spanish curses toward the ceiling.

Undeterred, Kazumi examines Dracoth’s wrist device, although I have no idea what the strange, petite woman is doing.

Sandra glares daggers at Carmen. “How could you even think of leaving him?” Her voice tightens with righteous indignation. Fuck, is she for real? “After he saved me—saved us all—you’d just leave him here to die?”

If she actually likes him, that could be a problem.

I feel a pang of worry at the possibility. But I push it aside. Sure, Sandra has that fresh-faced charm going for her, but I know who I am—confident, sophisticated, the kind of woman who turns heads. I’ve got that main character energy down to a science.

Carmen shakes her head like Sandra has just uttered the dumbest words ever spoken. “ Hola , chica . He abducted us! Remember? Did you get your brain twisted back there?” She waves dismissively toward the dark abyss of the corridor.

Sandra’s blue eyes go distant. “He saved me,” she whispers, shuddering, “From that fucking horrible monster. I’m not leaving him. I don’t care what you say. We need to get him proper help.”

I suppress a scoff. Funny, I had the same idea. Shame that Carmen only thought to escape!

Meanwhile, Kazumi is somehow working on Dracoth’s wrist device, which has morphed into a shimmering blue console.

“You know how to use one of those?” I ask, genuinely impressed. She might be more useful than I thought.

To my chagrin, Kazumi shakes her head with a slight frown. “No, but I try to send message.” Her hands dart on the holographic display in seemingly random patterns. The symbols are bizarre—alien shapes and squiggles, reminding me of hieroglyphics or ancient runes.

“ A la mierda con esto ,” Carmen mutters, her frustration reaching a boiling point as she snatches a gun off the bloodied floor. “I’m outta here. You chicas can stay if you want.” She throws a wave over her shoulder. “ Adiós !” With that, she turns to march down the opposite end of the corridor.

“Wait,” I sigh, stepping in front of her and raising a hand to block her path. “We’ve been over this. Like, multiple times!” I exclaim, glaring down at the grimacing Carmen. “You are... the most frustrating, stubborn woman I have ever met. Do you know that?”

Carmen stops, surprising me with a smile. “ Sí , I hear that a lot,” she chuckles, resting the alien gun casually on her shoulder.