Page 46

“By the way, my friends call me Lexie.” Well, before they all betrayed me... the bunch of bitches.

I am the toilet. Yeah, I have been a bitch myself, to be fair.

Sandra frowns, and for a moment, I fear she may reject my offer of friendship. But then her face softens.

“Lexie,” she repeats with a smile. “I don’t really have a nickname, except the boys used to tease me by calling me Greg, because of my surname—Gregor.”

“Good to know, Greg,” I mock with a grin, watching Sandra grimace. “At least your nickname is better than mine. I got called Bigfoot or Heifer, depending on the day.” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

Sandra bursts into laughter, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle it. “Oh, no, that’s awful!” she exclaims, trying to mask her crime.

“Uh huh,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her with exaggerated suspicion. “I saw that... Greg !” I mock with a dramatic flair.

“No, no,” she giggles, hands raised in mock surrender. “It was just the way you said it, I swear!”

“Good thing I didn’t actually moo like a cow, then,” I retort with a smirk. We share another laugh, but it fades into a lingering silence.

“Do you think she’ll make it? Carmen, I mean,” Sandra asks suddenly, cutting through the dim, heavy air of the ship.

Could she? In truth, I never thought she’d make it past this ship, but I guess Dracoth held fire.

Still, there’s the lack of supplies, direction, not to mention whatever horrible shit that could be lurking out there in space.

But alien ships... who knows what they’re capable of?

Especially if she can figure out the controls, she might have a chance.

“I don’t know,” I admit, then a memory flashes in my mind. “But the last thing she said to me was...” I smile, thinking about it.

“What?” Sandra presses, leaning in, eager.

“I’ll come back for you, chica !” I say, doing my best to mimic Carmen’s accent. “Then she laughed, right before jumping on that ship.” I shake my head in disbelief. “If anyone can make it out there, it’d be that crazy bitch.”

“I hope she does,” Sandra murmurs, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. “She might be the only one...”

“What do you mean?” I ask, a flicker of fear tightening in my chest.

“Dracoth,” Sandra begins glancing down at her twiddling thumbs. “I thought he was a good guy, deep down, but now... after all this,” she gestures to the thick metal bars of our cell, “and the things he’s said... I don’t know anymore.”

I almost snort at her naivety but stop myself.

“Dracoth won’t hurt us,” I glare at Sandra to drive the point home.

“He needs us.” I let the words hang, hoping they sink in.

“Just remember that the next time he’s doing his whole Mr. Frowny Face routine,” I mock, but the truth is he is fucking terrifying at times.

“Yeah... you’re right,” Sandra mutters, but her eyes remain downcast. “But... you know,” her gaze darts up to mine, almost pleading. “I like him. At least I did. Now I’m not sure... maybe I’m just an idiot...”

“If you’re an idiot, then so am I,” I scoff lightly.

“But you never actually liked him, liked him... right?” Sandra asks, searching my face. It’s endearing, in a desperate sort of way.

“I mean...” I scrunch my face, trying to untangle the red-colored knots that are the heady and conflicting emotions I have for Dracoth.

“He’s hot... literally.” Sandra chuckles with a nod of agreement.

“Like a giant buff, angry murder man.” I pause, a sudden thought striking me.

“God, are we like those insane women who fall for murderers in prison?”

Sandra laughs, but it’s hollow, her eyes darting away. “So... you do like him?”

I let out a deep breath, unsure myself. Maybe just be honest and see what Sandra thinks?

“Well... in the shower, there was this moment.” I pause, thinking back—it was crazy.

Both of us naked, the steam swirling around, and his massive cock brushing against me.

I remember how turned on I was... I would’ve done anything he wanted right there.

“A moment?” Sandra urges, pulling me back from my thoughts.

I chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “Nothing happened, I swear.” I hold up my hands for emphasis. “For a second, I thought it might... but then he just told me to stop and walked away. It was so random.”

Sandra’s eyes widen with recognition. “He did something like that with me too! I thought we were about to kiss, and then he just got all weird,” she exclaims.

I knew it! Sandra was closer to winning Dracoth than I thought.

I nod sagely, now more confident than ever about Dracoth. “You know what I think? I think he’s a virgin,” I declare, savoring the shock that spreads across Sandra’s face.

“Piss off, no way!” Sandra blurts out, her eyes going wide.

“Yes way,” I grin. “Unless it’s some weird alien custom where he’s allowed to ogle us like a horny frat boy, but can’t actually do anything.” I frown as I say it. The idea feels more hollow than cheap plastic shoes—like anyone could forbid Dracoth from doing anything.

“Maybe...” Sandra’s voice trails off, her fingers picking at her nails. “Could be that bond thing... The Mortar-akin-Tick, or whatever he called it... Like he’s saving himself for marriage?” her face lights up at the notion.

“Maybe!” I laugh at her sweet innocence, “And he’ll whisk us off on a bed of roses to live happily ever after as his queen.”

More like a bed of alien guts.

“Very funny, Lexie,” Sandra retorts with a chuckle, but I can see it in her faint smile and distant eyes—she wants to believe it.

“You want to be his queen more than anything, don’t you?” I say, my voice edged with surprise and a hint of challenge.

“He said Chieftainess,” Sandra nods eagerly, a broad smile spreading across her face.

“But yeah, of course! Can you imagine being married to a ruler of an alien planet? It would be class!” She becomes more animated, laughing.

“A big alien stud who rescued me, protects me, takes care of me, wants me...” She almost squirms until her eyes snap to mine, her pale cheeks blushing. “Um... well, you get the picture.”

“Yeah. An X-rated picture,” I scoff, hiding a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

She really, really likes him—rightly or wrongly.

I just want safety. The two of them would be happier together.

An idea hits me like a lightning bolt, washing away my unease.

“I’ll back off from Dracoth, assuming we even have a choice. ”

There’s a pang of sadness as I speak, letting go of the chase, the dangerous game... Dracoth’s heat, his intensity. But seeing Sandra’s face light up, I know it’s the right thing to do.

“Really?” she asks excitedly, her face beaming, directed at me.

“Really,” I nod. “I wanted to be a queen, anyway—Chieftainess sounds too rustic for me.” Images of gleaming castles, regal clothes, and jewelry are now replaced with mud huts and grass skirts.

“Thanks, Lexie,” Sandra says, her voice filled with delight. “Because I don’t think I’d have a chance against you.”

Not sure about that... Dracoth hates me now.

“On one condition, though,” I hold up a finger dramatically, waiting for just the right moment.

Sandra pauses, her full attention on me.

“We make a promise. Whoever becomes his chieftainess makes sure the other one is taken care of.” I smile, raising an eyebrow.

“I just want a small castle—nothing too fancy.”

Sandra and I share a brief laugh before her face turns solemn. “Okay, I promise,” she nods.

Good, because I really don’t want to be sold into slavery.

“I promise, too.”