Page 83

Alexandra

Descent

I trudge through the crushed snow, sticking close to Dracoth’s trail.

Steam still rises off him, curling through the icy air, with streaks of green and white inky blood marring his armor, looking like one of the more interesting modern artworks.

I almost wish there were another threat—just so he could carry me in his strong arms to feel his heat again.

.. ah, glorious warmth! I let out a sigh, knowing I can’t get enough, especially in this frozen wasteland.

My thoughts churn like over-stirred coffee, my hands trembling. Could be the cold, or maybe the shock of nearly becoming dinner for those raptor-dogs.

Who’s to say?

Wouldn’t it be wild if I could post this craziness on social media? People would think it was the best special effects ever—back on Earth, I mean.

As the adrenaline begins to wane, the excitement draws away, leaving behind... embarrassment and cringe—lots of cringing. It’s almost enough to wander off Dracoth’s trodden path to sink into the huge pristine snowdrifts like a beautiful snow angel of regret frozen for all eternity.

That crazy laugh—those insane words I yelled at Dracoth.

“Tear their heads off.” What was that?

Crazy psycho shit, that’s what.

Even now, I feel it, that dark part of me that relishes the control, the power in seeing those creatures suffer, especially after they dared attack us, as if they had the right! Just like with Ignixis. I could’ve killed him, smiling deathly sweet doing it.

I might be mad—just a bit. Okay, maybe a lot mad.

Ugh , and now Dracoth knows, no doubt feeling it through our bond. Tightness seizes my chest, and I fight the urge to escape, to push him away.

He knows far too much already, and it’s only going to get worse. If only life were like a game of Pokémon, where I could just restart. “Hi, I’m Lexie, totally not a freak. Promise.”

My treacherous feet veer off-course, toward the massive snow mounds.

Apparently, a part of me likes the idea of becoming a frozen monument of cringe.

But then Todd, the little rascal, squirms safe and warm, burrowed beneath my furs, giving me pause.

He’d fought hard not to become a popsicle like his friends. He deserves better.

“Princesa,” Dracoth’s deep voice grumbles as he turns with that familiar frown, somehow sensing me drifting. “Come,” he says, holding out an arm.

Even though the giant bore keeps calling me that stupid name, I can’t help but smile, longing to be carried by my massive red taxi man.

“My name’s Lexie,” I call back, sounding way too happy for my own good.

I glance up at him, grinning expectedly as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing more than a slightly scuffed, frozen doll.

“Your mind is clouded with regret and shame,” Dracoth growls, plowing through the deep snow with me cradled in his left arm. His body radiates heat, the warmth seeping through my skin, straight to my bones.

Ahh, bliss.

“Does your fragile human heart weep for the beasts?”

I snort at his bluntness, and how absurdly wrong his assumption is.

Surprising, too, the fact he’s asking me questions rather than grunting and barking orders.

But panic holds my tongue, unsure what to reveal.

How much does he know? I mean, he’s the biggest psycho of them all—maybe he’d understand.

Or worse, expect me to be all fluffy-cute as the woman.

I hate that I care.

“No, my fragile human heart, as you so rudely put it, doesn’t give a shit about them.

” I mutter, my gaze downcast, deciding to test how sincere Dracoth’s words are—that he won’t abandon me.

“In fact, I enjoyed watching you kill them.” My eyes lock on his, my rising voice defying the howl of the wind.

For a brief second, his crimson eyes search mine, but his snow-dusted face remains maddeningly unreadable, with no clue coming through the bond. Just before I sigh in frustration, he rumbles, “Continue.”

“Continue?” My voice tightens with annoyance.

“Fine. Where I come from, people don’t tend to laugh like maniacs when they’re fighting for their lives—or watching things get torn to pieces,” I blurt out with fiery fervor.

“Maybe it’s those green fumes from the rituals, or being bonded to you, that’s messing with me,” I frown, the idea comforting—an excuse to ease this gnawing guilt.

The purple sunlight paints the pristine snow as Dracoth stomps it underfoot with surprising speed. I grow irritated, wondering if he even heard me or if he’s just ignoring me like the giant rude prick he sometimes is.

“When I slaughtered the pathetic junkers, you wore the same look... you enjoyed it,” he grumbles, his crimson eyes glinting in the cold dawn.

My hand unconsciously touches Arawnoth’s blessing, scorched into my chest, finding comfort in its throbbing heat despite the bitter truth slapping me across the face like a wet fish. “I mean... ‘ enjoyed ’ is a strong—”

“Your self-delusions bore me, female,” Dracoth’s low voice slices through the frigid air like one of his monstrous claws. “Why feel shame for what you are?”

“I’m the bore? Really, Dracoth? Really ?” I snap, my anger flaring as I shift in his arms to glare up at him, my breathing quickening. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look at me.

Infuriating!

I want to get my hooks into him so I can lash out, but he gives nothing away.

“You’re the bore!” I yell, but it sounds weak, like a child throwing a tantrum.

Great, he does think I’m a lunatic.

Wonderful.

I cross my arms, slouching. He can believe whatever he wants. I’m past caring. But there’s a part of me—a treacherous part—that still craves his approval, that yearns for him to accept me.

We continue onward in what should be the most awkward silence.

Oddly enough, it’s comforting. Just the warmth of his body and reassuring presence, the steady rhythmic crunch of snow beneath his feet, and his deep, wind-tunnel-like breaths.

My eyelids grow heavy, and I find myself drifting into brief, blissful naps, lulled by his presence.

When I open my eyes, the world is blurred, and I see reddish trees swaying in the distance.

Huh?

I rub the sleepiness from my eyes, wondering if this is some ice-cube version of a mirage. But the more I scrub, the clearer it becomes—an oasis of towering, rustling trees.

“Trees! Grass!” I gasp, almost leaping out of Dracoth’s arms in excitement. “No more freezing snow and wind!” I nudge Todd from his curled-up nap, holding him toward the strange red-orange foliage. “Look, food!” His mandibles click with excitement, legs skittering in the air, eager for a meal.

“Draxxi,” Dracoth grumbles, a touch of distaste in his tone. I could call this place heaven after enduring the misery of that frozen wasteland behind us.

But my stomach tightens as I realize the lush lands are far below—like, really far—and there’s no path in sight.

“Um... how exactly do we get down there?” I ask, peering up at Dracoth.

“We climb,” he replies, and my heart leaps into my throat.

“Climb,” I repeat, muttering from tight lips.

Brilliant!

“Funny thing, Dracoth,” I say with a nervous laugh, “I’ve never climbed before, and with all this slippery—”

“I’ll carry you,” Dracoth offers. His grumpy tone and rude interruption doing nothing to dampen the wave of relief flooding through my body.

Praise Arawnoth!

“Well, if you insist.” I grin.

Dracoth thunders through the last stretch of snow, approaching the cliff edge.

The wind howls louder, shrieking like my mother during a particularly heated argument.

But worse are the strange croaks, barks, and howls echoing from the distant trees—trees that loom as large as buildings, their tops vanishing into the clouds.

Lovely. Out of the freezer, into the giant murder forest.

Dracoth inches closer to the edge, sending clumps of snow tumbling into the abyss below.

The sound of them falling seems endless, like they’re being swallowed by the earth.

Already my stomach is back-flipping in protest. His idea to climb down is quickly becoming some giant-bore madness.

He peers down the threshold and I make the mistake of following his gaze.

The cliff we’re supposed to ‘ climb ’ is a sheer wall of crystalline ice over jagged obsidian rock, shimmering with an almost mocking slickness.

And the ground? I can’t even see it—lost in a sea of frosted treetops and shadows, far beneath us.

My guts churn, my vision blurring as I clutch Dracoth, leaning as far away from the terrifying drop as possible.

“No, fuck this,” I blurt, unable to keep the fear from my voice. “Todd and I will stay up here in the fridge, thanks.”

Dracoth punishes me by setting me down in the snow, his grip vanishing as I shiver, my feet crunching into the freezing white.

I cling to him like a beautiful blonde and very endangered koala.

“You and your precious cyloillar will die from exposure if the beasts don’t find you first,” he states, his voice hard as the obsidian rocks below, glaring down at me.

His words send an icy wave of terror through my core, and I cast a frantic glance behind at the endless frozen wasteland, feeling utterly trapped.

“Where is the strength you’ve shown before?” Dracoth’s immense form looms over me like a red dragon, his voice low and dangerous. “The female who took joy in my suffering? Who savored her enemy’s guts coating the walls of my ship? Who begged me to rip the hydraliths apart?”

My mind races as my heart pounds in my chest. “I... I’m not like you,” I mutter, my voice shaky with desperation, clinging to the lie I tell myself. “I’m a good person.”