Page 100 of Scorching the Alien Empire
I’ll never give it up—my divine right. The daughter of the most beautiful Goddess.
Dracoth extends a hand, and my stomach tightens in anticipation. I ache to see his molten flames, to feel them scorch my flesh, to let them burn me down to my bones and warm me from the inside out, the way only Arawnoth’s love can.
A hush falls over the soldiers. We all wait, breath held. Watching. Waiting.
Nothing happens.
Dracoth grunts, his arm trembling, veins bulging at his neck like thick, coiled ropes. His face twists with effort, his furypalpable, looking like his head might pop off. Any second now, something devastating will—
A spark.
A tiny, flickering spark, feeble and weak, barely licking at the sealed door before sputtering out.
Disappointing. Embarrassing. Tragic, really. A little matchstick. A mere splutter. I’m suddenly reminded of those unsatisfying... encounters with Michael—all talk, no action.
His hands curl into fists at his sides, claws biting into his palms. A sharp exhale escapes him, frustration sharpening the edges of his crimson gaze as he glares at the unyielding door.
I let out a long, dramatic sigh, patting his arm in mock sympathy. “Don’t worry, I hear there’s a pill for this sort of thing.” I flash a sweet, innocent smile before delivering the final blow. “It’s okay, babes. It happens to the best ofthem.”
His glare could melt steel. But my cute smile is unbreakable. His eye twitches. I’ve won. Played perfectly.
Dracoth roars, his energy claws springing to life, blazing sapphire against the obsidian. “There are nothem. There is only me!”
Touchy.
The heat kisses my skin, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine, but it’s nothing compared to Arawnoth’s love. A pathetic imitation.
Dracoth’s claws rise, poised to carve into the door’s seam. His rage is intoxicating—dangerous, raw, and utterly enthralling.
Then, the mood killer.
“Please don’t, War Chieftain!” Razgor cries, rushing forward like an overeager teacher’s pet, hands raised in protest. “We must preserve history,” he adds, desperation edging his voice.
For Arawnoth’s sake, it’s just a bloody spooky door.
I sigh. “Let me handle this, babes. Rest your little sparklers.” Flashing Dracoth a wicked grin, I lift a hand toward the sealed entrance.
The collective muttering dies. Breaths still. Anticipation crackles in the air. Thrilling. Their expectations, their awe—soon to witness my divinity.
I project the thinnest shield, pressing between the towering seams. It’s so fine even my bond-enhanced eyes can’t see it, but Ifeelit. A crushing weight presses back, squeezing my mind like twenty naked, snarling Dracoths dogpiling my skull.
Teeth clenched, I spread my fingers wide. My barrier thickens instantly, stretching taller, stronger. A terrible metallic groan screeches through the sterile air—like a drunken droid singing opera.
The immense door begins to tremble against my now visible barrier. Its silvery edges glint in starlight as the pressure mounts. Despite the strain, despite my reddening face, I smile.
A gap splits open. I summon another barrier, slamming it against the other side. With two pushing both ends, it’s already over. The metal shrieks in protest, trembles violently—and then something snaps. A mechanism. A thingamajig. Whatever it was, it’s dead now.
All resistance vanishes. The car-thick metal lurches open with a resoundingthud.
The cheering space-knights is an even more satisfying sound. A sweet, intoxicating chorus of “War Chieftainess!” and “Blessed Daughter!” washes over me like the warmest bubble bath. Glorious. Shame my face is as red as cooked lobster.
“Impressive, Princesa,” Dracoth praises, the faintest smirk tugging his lip. A sight rarer than a positive bank balance.
“It’s just a door,” I lie, snorting dismissively. Though, truthfully, it wassomuch more—it was divine.
Then Drexios—the rude prick—ruins my moment.
“Little pink sorceress, a sight to see, an open door to destiny,” he lilts, spinning in a circle like an escaped lunatic before shuffling backward into the awaiting expanse, grinning as he goes.
