Page 211 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“It tasted like the real thing, I swear.” Sandra nods solemnly, like she’s swearing on the sacred pasta sauce of the ancients.
“No freaking way. How?” I whirl to Todd’s plumpness, snoozing on my shoulder, already dreaming of angel hair with meatballs. “Todd and I need answers!”
“You just ask the wee orb machines,” Sandra says, grimacing as she scans the pristine interior. “Wait... where are yours?”
My cheeks heat up.
“You mean the murder-bots? I sent those creepy things away.” I shiver just thinking about it. “Asking me weird questions. Projecting black death rays. I’m not taking any chances—especially now...”
My hand drifts to Arawnoth’s scorch-brand, the faintest warmth still pulsing under my fingers.
“What do you mean?” Sandra’s voice softens, instantly tuned into my shift. Classic bestie behavior. “Did something happen?”
“A whole lot happened—a whole lot of cringe,” I groan, curling into myself. “Cringe layered on more cringe—a big strawberry, triple-tiered cringe-cake.”
The mortifying breakdown I had with Dracoth still stabs me with a thousand icy hairpins of embarrassment and regret.
It was wild. Total loopy-loop insanity. I’ve never been that vulnerable before—not even close. And now heknowsmy darkest secrets. The sprinklesandthe warts. I mean, I barfed them all up—years of trauma, hurled right over his big Bobo the Clown boots.
Anxiety churns my guts like a platoon of backflipping Lexie-moths. It’s terrifying. But also... weirdly comforting? Like he paid off all my credit card emotional debt. Except now he’s got my fragile heart in his big clawed hands. A little poke there, one little squeeze here, and poof—I’ll explode into glitter and pain confetti.
How did I go from Divine Daughter to viral breakdown meme in record-breaking time?
It’s Dracoth. It’salwaysDracoth.
He could’ve walked away. He should’ve. But he didn’t. And I might be fully dickmatized. Because no matter what gets thrown at him, hewins. It’s kind of crazy. Crazy and... very hot.
“I’m... no longer...” I wince. Each word feels like ripping out an eyelash. “Divine.”
There. The cat is out of the celestial bag. Oversharing is now my spiritual practice.
Sandra stands blinking, as if expecting more, looking like a ginger fox caught in Nib headlights. “Um...” she says, clearly stalling. “Okay, but... you were never divine?”
“Rude. I totally was,” I snap, scandalized.
My best friend. A non-believer. A heretic.
The betrayal stings—like getting heel-stabbed by discount stilettos.
Anger sparks, but I smother it under a wet blanket of sadness.
She’s right. Just like Dracoth. I’m not divine. Just... extremely, super powerful, gorgeous, blessed, adored, and awesome. I mean, okay, it isn’tthatfar off?
“Mr. Frowny Face somehow found his Zen,” I mutter, still brushing Dracoth’s mother’s hair as my gaze drifts. Through our bond, Dracoth’s blood-red flame, no longer blazes like a big grumpy inferno of constant rage. Now it’s a calm campfire, simmering like he’s keeping his soup or spaghetti warm.
How did I miss the spaghetti!?
“Wha... I don’t understand. Did Dracoth do something? I saw you two head off with that scary feather guy,” Sandra presses, frowning, interrupting my delicious musings.
“He cut me off Sandra.” The words snap out faster than intended. “No more frowny juice.” I lean in, tugging my eyelid. “See? My eyes? Totally normal. No divine glow. Which means... no shields. No powers. And with the Nib–Big Chief–Krogoth showdown looming?”
Just the mention of it sends my blood pressure skyrocketing. This ismymoment. Our ascent. The Lexie-verse iswaiting. Soon we’ll finally meet Krogoth Cringe-Eyes and Bitch Brick and the other bone-through-the-nose big chiefs. I need to shine.
No,dominate.
Dracoth insists we do this peacefully. And I did sort of agree... well, I said I’d at least try. Ugh. Not like it matters anyway. I can’t even sparkle.
I don’t know how serious Dracoth is about removing Krogoth, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve got a few tricks to play. I’m not letting this opportunity slip.
