Page 48

Alexandra

Disembark

“ O kay, my turn. Truth or dare?” I ask, locking eyes with Sandra as she sits cross-legged in front of me.

She frowns, looking thoughtful. I fight back a grin, giving her more time than she ever gave me.

Quite impatient is our little Miss Nosy.

And ruthless too—asking how many men I’ve slept with. The cheek of her!

Well, two can play that game. A smirk curls on my lips.

“Um... dare!” Sandra finally decides, shifting uncomfortably on the cold metal floor of our cell.

It’s been two days since we last saw the giant red bore Dracoth—at least, that’s my best guess given the ceaseless, tacky dim lights.

I never thought I’d miss him, but it’s worrying.

.. for both of us. Has he abandoned us? Only the mini-Dracoths have come around, bringing those awful jelly sticks and swapping out our fur blankets and clothes—those equally terrible.

“How about...” My thoughts trail off as I scan the sparse black metal walls. Options are limited—like our chances of getting out of here.

The toilet? Make her touch it? Ugh, no, that’s gross.

“Um... alright. I dare you to eat this whole jelly stick in under two minutes.” I extract the wobbly, yellow, translucent “food.”

“Two minutes?” Sandra echoes, eyeing the floppy rectangle with doubt creeping over her face.

“Go on... you know you can’t resist,” I jest, waving it close to her face.

Sandra swats my hand away. “It takes me a whole day to eat one of those.”

“Really? You’re faster than me. Takes me two days,” I sigh, thinking about lovely cinnamon swirls or a nice stack of French toast with syrup and sausages.

How long has it been since I tasted real food?

If only I had asked Distro Bistro to wrap up my order before I got abducted.

Although Dracoth probably would’ve ruined those as well.

“Lexie?” Sandra asks, pulling me from my delicious musings.

“What?” I snap to attention, my stomach rumbling and betraying my thoughts.

“Oh, right... truth.” I glance at Sandra as she nods, her long ginger hair swaying—the brightest thing in this darkness. “Okay, let’s see... what is your favorite—” I frown, thinking harder. “No, wait. I’ve got it! Where’s the wildest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Mine was almost on an alien spaceship.

I pull my furs tighter around me. Despite their thickness, they never stave off my bone-chilling cold.

“God, that’s a tough one,” Sandra says, tapping her chin, eyes narrowing in thought. “Probably the Campbells’ barn... or maybe one of the fields,” she titters.

“Really?” I burst out laughing. “I won’t ask with who ... or with what !” I tease, realizing she’s more adventurous than she seems.

“Haha, very funny,” Sandra grimaces. “Just because I live in the Highlands doesn’t mean...” Her words trail off, her lips trembling slightly.

Live.

The word hangs in the darkness like a poison cloud. We don’t live anywhere—not anymore. Just this bleak cell. This is our home now.

“It’ll be alright, Sandra,” I murmur, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“He can’t keep us here forever,” I say—not for the first time—but we cling to whatever comfort we can find, keeping each other’s spirits up with silly games and endless conversation.

Without her, I’d probably be as mad as my mother’s taste in men.

But it’s been tough—not knowing, especially after Dracoth’s last scathing words.

Truth is, my stomach sinks with worry that he’s abandoned us—that we’ll be sold off or left to rot on some forgotten chunk of space rock.

He needs us.

I remind myself of that whenever despair threatens to take hold. It’s only that mantra and Sandra’s presence that keep me from falling apart.

Suddenly, the sound of distant footsteps approaching steals my focus, sending my pulse racing with eager anticipation.

“Someone’s coming!” I announce, straining to hear over the immense ship’s steady hum.

“Who is it?” Sandra asks, as if I have a crystal ball hidden in these ugly, gnomish clothes.

The footsteps grow louder. Heavier. I can almost picture the giant bore with that deep frown that’s begging to wrinkle his face.

“Shit! It’s Dracoth!” My breath catches, and I stand up, instinctively starting to preen before I catch myself.

“Dracoth?” Sandra questions, her tone tinged with excitement. “How can you tell?” She also rises, fussing with her wavy red hair.

I frown at her question—the answer obvious. “You can’t hear him? The way his massive Bobo the Clown feet stomp around, and his wind-tunnel breathing?”

“I hope you’re right.” Sandra titters, her eagerness growing. “But it could be one of the mini-Dracoths.”

I fight to steady my breathing. My heart thunders in my chest, like I’m expecting to meet the entire royal family. I hate that I can’t contain my excitement, even though he locked us up!

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Oh, it’s definitely him... I know it is,” I mutter, staring at the thick metal bars.

Right on cue, Dracoth appears, and he’s not alone. The presence of the frightening, smirking Demon Egg-Head makes both Sandra and me recoil from the bars.

“Hail, human females,” Ignixis greets us, his grin revealing a mouthful of sharpened yellow fangs.

A terrifying thought grips me—what if Dracoth hands us over to this monster?

I study Dracoth. My chest tightens like it’s going to explode.

He stands like a titan, fully clad in his dark-gray armor, with that disgusting belt of gore dangling at his waist. The sight of it makes me want to hurl.

But worse than the belt—he’s holding two long metal chains, each attached to a collar.

Oh, fuck!

“Hello, Dracoth,” Sandra somehow manages to say sweetly, while my eyes dart between all the horrors before us, trying not to cry or choke on the lump forming in my throat.

“No greeting for me?” Demon Egg-Head sighs dramatically, not waiting for an answer. “See, Dracoth? This is why you must savor female attention in your youth.” He shakes his bald, tattooed head as if dispensing sage wisdom. “They have no thought for an aged Elder.”

“It’s your ceaseless prattle and that you resemble a painted horror which displeases them,” Dracoth rumbles like an earthquake. His hands dart over the blue-glowing wrist device.

I feel a sliver of relief. Dracoth appears to be still in charge, keeping the scary Demon Egg-Head in check.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Sandra offers, smiling and nodding toward the terrifying alien. “Hello to you too.”

“My, my.” Demon Egg-Head grins, and somehow, it only makes him appear more sinister, twisting his tattooed features, showing sharp yellow fangs, and green eyes that glow ominously in the dark. “Aren’t you a pleasant little one? Much nicer than the other female... What was her name again? The one—”

“Carmen!” I snap, anger flaring at his disrespect—can’t even remember our names, the asshole Demon Egg-Head!

“That was it! Thank you, plump female.” His tattooed face turns toward me, and I feel the icy hand of terror clutching my chest. “You’ve lost weight since we last spoke.

” He glances at Dracoth, while my mouth fumbles for words that do not come.

Because of outrage or fear, I’m not sure.

“Haven’t you been feeding this one?” he asks, gesturing at me with a dismissive wave, like I’m an exhibit in a space zoo.

Dracoth’s deep crimson eyes flick to mine for an instant. His expression is maddeningly neutral, making his thoughts unreadable. He gives nothing away beyond that permanent scowl, like someone keeps pissing in his morning mocha.

“She’s in fine health,” he growls, and I scrunch my face, wondering if that might be the closest thing to a compliment I’ll ever get from him.

“Yes, well, if by ‘ fine health ’ you mean ready for the slaughter, I’d agree,” Demon Egg-Head scoffs, turning his disapproving gaze in my direction.

Outrage flares, burning through my icy terror. “Listen, you creepy old weirdo, why don’t you take your stupid fucking comments no one asked for and piss off?” I spit, shaking with rage. I swear he’s just like all those online trolls, making fun of my weight but still always looking.

Sandra stiffens beside me, but I don’t care. I won’t let him speak to me like that!

“How discourteous.” The old creep feigns offense, his lips curling into a smirk that only makes my blood boil more.

The cell bars crash down with a deafening clang. Dracoth steps inside with an ominous jingle following in his wake—one of metal, the other of bone.

“Put these on,” he orders, tossing two black metal collars onto the cold prison floor with a loud, echoing clatter.

“No fucking way,” I blurt, fuming.

“No, Dracoth...” Sandra whimpers at the same time, glancing between the collar and the red titan. “Please, we’ve done nothing wrong!”

Dracoth steps toward Sandra, making our large cell feel suddenly claustrophobic.

She shakes her head, while I lean in to whisper, “Let me take the heat, okay?” I try to sound reassuring despite my anger igniting beneath the surface. I probably can’t sway the stubborn giant bore, but better he sees me as the troublemaker and not her.

“Really, Dracoth? A collar? Are we dogs now? Going to take us out for a little spacewalk?” I challenge, glaring up into his molten eyes, suddenly overcome by how enormous he is.

“You will not escape again,” he growls, pointing toward the collar as his frown deepens, if that’s even possible.

Fuck, he’s terrifying! But I remind myself—he needs us. Last time, I was too broken to argue. Now it’s different.

“Listen, Dracoth. Sandra and I never tried to escape. If we had, we wouldn’t be here—we’d be on that ship with Carmen.”

“You,” he jabs a massive bratwurst finger at me, “knew of their plan yet did nothing,” his voice booms, shaking the dark cell walls. “And you,” he points to Sandra, “convinced me to open the cells. Complicit.” He proclaims our guilt like a judge passing sentence.