Page 72 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

The door to her quarters slid open with a soft hiss. She turned on the overstuffed seating cushion at the center of the room just in time to see him step through. Her breath caught.

Stavian filled the doorway like he always did—broad-shouldered, regal, walking like war still clung to his boots. But his face was soft tonight. Not unguarded, exactly, but open in a way he’d saved only for her.

He came to her without a word.

Cerani stood, moving toward him, steady now despite the way her heart kicked. She stepped into his arms and he pulled her flush against him, his mouth brushing her temple. His breath was warm as it skimmed her hair.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he echoed, wrapping his arm around her lower back and tucking her close.

“How are you?” she asked softly. “After this cycle.”

His hand slid over her back. “Shaken,” he admitted into her hair, “but whole.”

“Quite the family you have.” She tilted her face up toward his. “We have.”

His chest rumbled with a faint laugh. “I noticed.”

Cerani smiled and tucked her face against his shoulder. His skin still carried the faint scent of steel and storm. “They’re arrogant and impossible.”

She felt his grin against her scalp. “Yes.”

“And brave,” she added after a beat. “And good.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her. “So are your Terian sisters.”

“I missed them more than I knew,” she said, her voice cracking with the truth of it.

“I know.” His fingers traced a slow, comforting path down her spine. “I’ve never seen you glow like this.”

“I’m happy,” she whispered. “Not just because of them.”

Because of you. And she didn’t need to say it. He knew.

Stavian brushed his hand over her cheek like he was trying to memorize her. “Your eyes are gold fire tonight.” He slid his fingers down the side of her throat. “You don’t know it, but that’s what you are to me.” He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Blinding.”

“Undress me,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Stavian reached for the tie of her wrap shirt and tugged it slowly open. His hands were careful, reverent, every motion soaked with significance. When the fabric parted in the middle and his eyes swept over her now-bare torso, he exhaled like all the air had left his lungs.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, his voice rough.

Cerani didn’t look away. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She let the shirt slip to the floor. Her pulse kicked when he leaned in and kissed her shoulder—just once—slow andunhurried, like he wanted to press the words I love you into her skin.

He brushed her hair back and hooked his thumbs in the waist of her leggings. They slipped down her hips with a whisper, leaving her bare to him. Cerani stood still as his eyes traveled every inch of her like she was a world he was only just beginning to chart.

“I will never get over the way you look at me,” she said, voice trembling.

“Good,” he said. “Because it’s never going to change.”

When his mouth met hers, it wasn’t rushed. It was soft, deep. His hands skimmed over her waist and hips, grounding her even as her knees went weak. She ran her fingers down his chest, featherlight, until she reached the edge of his shirt and tugged.

“You too,” she breathed between kisses. “Everything.”

He stripped off his own tunic, unfastened the belt beneath, and let his pants fall. When his body pressed against hers—skin-to-skin—she sighed, melting into the contact like gravity no longer knew how to hold her up.

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