Page 38

I smile as the door swooshes shut behind Sandra, leaving me alone.

It was almost too easy. Sandra wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in Miss Cutter’s School—the hellish boarding school mother abandoned me to .

There, battles for status were a daily occurrence.

They underestimated me back then, taunting me with names like Heifer and Bigfoot .

Yet, I had the last laugh when I clawed my way up to become Head Girl.

Just like now—they all underestimate me, but I’ll show them.

Lexie Turner is not to be underestimated.

I exhale slowly, my gaze drifting toward the veiled end of the room where Dracoth waits. A sudden ripple of trepidation rolls through me, catching me off guard. Sandra was merely the warm-up. Dracoth... he’s the main event.

The shower room is much larger than I initially realized.

Each cautious step reveals another row of towering golden statues, standing like silent sentinels in the thick, swirling vapor.

Black marble benches and square pillars gradually emerge from the mist making it difficult to get my bearings.

Perhaps it’s not the fog—maybe it’s the nerves twisting my stomach into knots along with a swarm of kamikaze butterflies.

It’s strange; I’ve never felt this anxious about seducing a man before.

But then again, Dracoth isn’t exactly a man.

He's an enigma to me. Despite my attempts, I still haven’t worked him out, which gives me pause.

He seldom speaks—being a giant bore, and even his expressions reveal nothing.

I thrive on reading people’s subtle cues, learning what makes them tick, what motivates them, what hurts them.

Yet, beyond his occasional lingering stare, I’ve no idea.

He’s like an intense ball of murder—one I need to charm.

What’s the worst that could happen?

And then, I see him—the red titan in the mist—shattering my thoughts into heart-pounding pieces.

He is unmistakable, given his extreme height that dwarfs even his fellow Clown-dathians soldiers.

I find it appealing though—it makes him more unique.

His back is turned to me, and even from this distance, he radiates a smoldering intensity, almost like the heat of the room emanates from his colossal body.

He stands completely naked, the huge slabs of muscle ripple and pulsing beneath his crimson skin as he runs a strange object over his limbs.

It’s surreal—he’s surreal. The sheer magnitude of his size, how fucking strong he looks.

He’s something that shouldn’t exist in reality, more like an action movie monster brought to life.

A lump forms in my throat, my mouth dries up, and I doubt it’s because of the heat of the showers. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all? This is far too dangerous. He’s too dangerous. I don’t really know anything about him, other than the fact he’s terrifying!

“ Princesa ,” Dracoth’s deep, rumbling voice cuts through the misty room, reverberating like a distant earthquake.

It’s always jarring to hear his thunderous tone—it makes me feel diminutive, almost like a child again.

“What is it you seek?” His long ears twitch as he halts and the cascading downpour glistens off his impossible physique in a surreal haze.

The scene takes on this whole crazy, fever dream-like vibe.

“Um...” I start, biting back a complaint about the stupid fucking name Carmen has saddled me with.

But now’s not the time for grievances. I need to play this smart, tactful.

If he’s taken in by Sandra’s good-girl facade, then I’ll need to behave like a meek little ginger mouse—at least for now. “I heard a noise and—”

Dracoth whirls around, instantly vaporizing my composure and words.

My mind blanks as my gaze falls to his body—and there it is, swinging against his muscular leg with a lewd slap.

His enormous cock. Okay, that is actually fucking absurd—like the rest of him—beefy and thick, with protruding veins mixed with alluring ridges and notches along a length that has me gasping with disbelief.

It’s like a weapon of meat, almost as big as my forearm.

The glistening tip is even thicker than the rest, not unlike a massive version of a man’s, except for the large pebbled edges.

How the hell? I mean, it’s not even hard yet!

“And?” Dracoth asks, his tone tinged with impatience.

He stands with the confidence of a gigolo, hardly surprising packing that monster—a monster attached to a monster!

Suddenly, I feel very exposed and vulnerable, resisting the urge to cover my own nakedness.

He gives nothing away, staring at me with a neutral expression, his molten eyes glowing in the dim, hazy purple light.

I’m already on the back foot, and we’ve barely started!

What is the giant bore thinking? Does he like what he sees? Frustratingly, his eyes remain locked on mine. Ugh , he’s making this so difficult!

“And I wanted to see what it was,” I reply forcing a smile, hoping for... something. But the giant bore gives nothing, simply returning his attention to scraping the strange alien tool across his massive chest, like he’s trying to peel his red skin off.

I stand, feeling like a jilted lover at the altar, waiting for a response that never comes.

Fine. Whatever, I’ll do all the work—as usual.

It’s difficult to form the words, the impressive sight of him turning my thoughts to jelly.

He personifies pure masculinity, a demigod of strength and muscle, with a gigantic cock to match.

And the way he nonchalantly carries on while naked is very provocative.

.. I catch myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands down those chiseled muscles, to trace the deep ridges of his abdomen. ..

Focus, Lexie! Say something for God’s sake!

“Um... so... what are you doing?” I cringe as the words tumble out. What the hell am I saying? Where has my brain gone?

My awkward question seems to wash over Dracoth as effortlessly as the waters cascading his muscles.

“Cleansing,” he says curtly, continuing his aggressive ritual.

Yep. Cleansing. Such profound insight. What a riveting conversation... God, this is going to be hard work.

“Is that like a ritual thing?” I ask, my voice tinged with a nervous giggle, which I cut short as his eyes dart to mine for a split second.

Is he annoyed at my question?

“The filth of my enemies clings to me,” he replies, his voice grinding like gravel. “It infects me with their weakness.” His mouth tightens as he scrapes more vigorously at his skin.

“You? Weak?” I blurt out at such a ridiculous thought, looking at the formidable size of him, remembering what he did to those horrible aliens.

It’s a perfect hook though and I can barely suppress a smirk, knowing I can work with this, stroking his ego—men love that.

“You’re anything but weak, Dracoth. So big and strong.

You must be the best... um, fighter in the entire universe?

” I take a step closer, my voice softening to a murmur, my eyes widening with feigned admiration as I gaze at him.

His crimson eyes snap to mine, then sweep over my naked body, lingering—just for a heartbeat—on my breasts and between my legs. I smile, trying to encourage him, my confidence growing. Yet his lack of any overt reaction worries me.

“Weakness can infect even the strongest warrior’s heart,” he growls, his gaze then drifting away clouded in some crazy murder thought, no doubt.

I could sigh. Seriously, why can’t we talk about, I don’t know, favorite foods or how much my boobs are turning him on right now? I mean, we’re both naked in a shower and he’s talking about some warrior nonsense. How do I even reply to this without sounding like a talking fortune cookie?

“But your heart only beats strong and proud.” The words leave my mouth, and I could die from the cringe, feeling like I’m reciting the script of a terrible movie. Still, I draw closer to the red titan, my eyes demure and submissive, playing the part he seems to prefer.

“While others are riddled with falsehoods,” Dracoth mutters, his words halting me for a split second.

The implication stings, striking a little too close to home.

I search his face, my heart skipping a beat, half-expecting that he’s about to reject me.

But he remains still, only watching me with that maddeningly blank expression.

“I hate liars,” I declare, finally something we both can agree on—screw lying bitches.

I inch closer, now directly in front of him, the heat from his shower melding with an almost supernatural warmth emanating from his body.

A naughty longing pools within me as Dracoth’s huge cock looms close, almost touching my breasts.

I could touch it—God, I want to—but caution holds me back.

Instead, my fingers graze his side, marveling at the solid, rock-hard contours of his muscles.

He feels like something carved from volcanic stone, while in comparison I’m so soft and small.

It seems ridiculous. Usually, I’m the tall one, but this massive contrast only excites me more.

My breathing quickens, my pulse racing, on the verge of victory, desire surging between my legs.

I move closer, seeking his warmth, his strength—my triumph. But his massive hand stops me. His brow furrows in disapproval, and just like that, my fragile dreams come crashing down. Dread coils in my stomach, heavy and cold.

“You reek of lies,” Dracoth says, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “I can smell it, see it in your trembling hands, hear it in your racing heart.”