Page 17 of Scorching the Alien Empire
A fresh volley of green blasts streaks against my shields, distracting me from the beauty of the carnage. Annoying white discs hover erratically in the air, firing from twin emerald barrels. Their sudden jerky movements make them maddeningly difficult to track.
I snarl and summon barriers around them, locking the mechanical shits in shimmering cages. Dracoth wastes no time, conjuring miniature suns within the traps, reducing the machines to molten slag in a heartbeat.
“Gods!” Jazreal’s voice cuts through the symphony of crackling flames and groans of dying enemies. “You’ve left me nothing,” he remarks with dry amusement, his masked gaze sweeping over the smoldering massacre.
“Their leader remains,” Dracoth declares, visage tilting toward a door at the far end of the room, partially obscured by a pile of junked spaceships. The metal portal, adorned with a garish image of a bare-chested alien woman, slides closed as the disgusting swollen insect creature retreats behind it. “He dies. But spare those who submit.”
I can hardly catch my breath from all the excitement, while Dracoth charges forward with unstoppable momentum—like I’m a dazzling football he’s determined to touchdown. Everything around us blurs in a dizzying haze of cozy, warm fires, though the scent of burning flesh tickles my nose instead of roasted marshmallows.
“There’s a battle droid inside,” Jazreal announces, keeping pace beside us. “It’s mine.”
Dracoth slows, granting him the lead. Jazreal enters the wide, circular chamber with his long spear poised for the kill.
The room erupts in searing blue light as crackling bolts hiss through the air. Jazreal moves like liquid lightning, his spear a whirling haze of sizzling energy, deflecting each shot with impeccable precision.
“Burn in plasma, you voiding monsters!” the insectoid leader shrieks, his jowls quivering with each syllable. Spindly, multi-jointed limbs flail in our direction, pointing as though he could stop us—Arawnoth’s chosen.
“You’re the monster, you barf cockroach!” I shout back, raising my arm to crush the guts out of his corpulent body in my shimmering shields.
But Dracoth beats me to it. A firestorm bursts into existence around the grotesque alien, flames swallowing him whole in aninstant. His agonized screams cut off quickly, leaving only a charred skeleton slumped atop his makeshift throne—a throne of scrap metal and shattered spaceship parts that’s a fitting scorched grave for the loser.
Jazreal, unfazed, dances through the chaos, weaving past the droid’s relentless barrage. The humanoid machine jerks and pivots on spindly, spider-like legs, its mounted gun arms tracking him with awkward sluggishness. Close now, Jazreal strikes—a sweeping blow with his spear aimed at its midsection.
Blue sparks explode as a shimmering shield flickers to life around the droid, absorbing the impact. Jazreal doesn’t hesitate. He spins, bringing the opposite end of his spear down in a blur of precision. This time, the shield collapses with a faint hum, and the spear cleaves cleanly through the droid’s bulky torso, severing it in two.
The top half crashes to the ground, sputtering pitifully, while the twitching, multi-legged lower half stumbles into a corner, collapsing with a series of dull clangs.
“Well fought,” Dracoth rumbles, removing his mask and securing it to his grisly belt of bone.
Jazreal gives an exaggerated twirl of his spear, a cyclone of movement, before holstering it on his back. “Hardly a warm-up,” he tuts, running a hand through his silvery-black hair with Classy-Jazzy elegance.
“Well, I’m warm,” I purr, my gaze sliding to Dracoth as a different heat pools deep within me. “Very fucking warm, actually.” My laugh comes low and husky as my eyes flick to the chamber, finally noting the massive red hologram hovering above a wide central table.
“So...” I drawl, biting my lip and sucking on my teeth for emphasis. “Where’s the booty?”
“Here,” Dracoth grunts. Without warning, a miniature star manifests beside a door near the melted throne. The fiery orblingers for only a moment before reducing the door to molten slag.
Dracoth strides through the darkened opening, and I follow close behind, my excitement bubbling over like a beautiful star-struck groupie trailing a rock god.
The space is cramped, barely larger than a storage closet, but it’s the sight of numerous stacked metal crates that has me gasping.
“Open them!” I demand eagerly, my voice high with anticipation.
Dracoth doesn’t hesitate, bending to tackle the nearest box. The lid groans in protest, but nothing stands a chance against my red dragon. With a low grunt, he wrenches it open, the top clattering to the floor.
“Oh!” I exclaim, leaning in as golden light floods the dim room—light emanating from orbs. They look so pretty, casting swirling golden hues over the darkened walls like light reflecting off water. “Is this...” I glance up at Dracoth, my heart pounding, “that Elerium stuff?”
“Yes,” he growls. I squeal with joy, and even Mr. Frowny Face can’t hide a touch of excitement in his tone. Through our bond, I sense his delight and something else—relief?
“There are many,” he adds, plunging his hand deep into the crate, stirring numerous of the pretty orbs like pieces of chocolate in the most delicious mocha.
I snatch one up, cradling it like the precious gem it is, and feel my chest swell with exhilaration.
“We’re rich, Dracoth! Actually rich!” The orb pulses faintly in my palm, swirling as if alive. The thrill of it all—the beautiful carnage, our divine gifts, our Elerium treasure, my unstoppable power.
“Fuck me, Dracoth!” I demand, the psychotic murder drugs still roaring through my veins, making my heart thunder andmy breathing unsteady. “I need your heat inside me.” Tearing at his armor pointlessly, I have no clue how to remove it, just desperate to feel him against me.
His lips crash onto mine, blazing intensely, as though they could devour the very air I breathe. My stylish leather clothes and cloak fall away under his relentless grip as if they were paper.
