Page 20 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

“Have you tested that theory?” he asked.

Cerani let out a slow breath. “No. But once? My mask seal broke. Full exposure for a full shift.” She tilted her head. “I didn’t have breathing problems or burns. I didn’t feel anything.”

Stavian’s hands flexed. “And you didn’t report it.”

“I was fine,” she said. “I’m not going to draw attention to myself if I can help it.” Cerani leaned back, her shoulders pressing into the crate behind her. “But I can’t take the chance. I will wear the suit when I leave the barracks, like everyone else.”

He lowered his gaze to the cuffs of her gloves. The fabric was frayed along the seams, patched once near the thumb. He had the briefest, stupidest thought—he wanted to see her hands. Her real hands. Press his palm to hers, skin-to-skin. Just one touch.

He reached out without thinking, fingers brushing the backs of her gloves. Cerani sat still, like she didn’t want to break whatever this was either.

He wanted to pull the glove off. Just peel it back and feel—

No. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to retract his hand like it’d been burned. That was the problem. He craved more. So much more.

He shook his head. “You’re thriving down here, but—”

“I’m not taking the suit off,” she said quickly.

“I won’t ask you to.” He looked away fast. “Sometimes I wish…”

Cerani didn’t move. “I know.”

The silence that followed stretched between them. Not awkward. Not empty, either. Just full of something too big for this duct. And he couldn’t name it.

He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his focus to the schematic on the tablet again, needing something to look at that wasn’t her. The lines blurred for a second before he forced his thoughts back into order.

She shifted slightly on the crate, boots scraping softly against the floor. “So, what now?” she asked.

His jaw clenched. This wasn’t just a lesson anymore. It hadn’t been for cycles. And with every meeting, sitting this close to her—watching her mind work, listening to the questions no one else cared enough to ask—he was unraveling.

“I’ll get the seams fixed,” he said. “Quietly. It’ll make it into the next batch of mechanic updates. It won’t fix the system, but it’ll give them more time. A better seal. That matters.”

She met his eyes again, and for a second he thought she might reach out. Her fingers twitched at her side.

“I wish ‘more time’ didn’t feel like a win.”

“It is one,” he said. “Even if the Axis never calls it one.”

Her eyes closed briefly. “Some of them may have committed crimes, but many didn’t. And even the ones that did, they don’t deserve to live like this. To die like this.”

Stavian swallowed. His throat moved slow. “They don’t. You don’t deserve to be here at all.”

She looked up. “Neither do you.”

Ah, that felt like a punch to the gut. What did he deserve, after serving the Axis his whole life? Surely not her. Not the soft way she was looking at him. He held his breath for half a beat too long, then stood and stepped back. He instantly missed her closeness.

“We’ll meet again next cycle, same time,” he said.

“Okay.” Her lips turned, just slightly. The barest tease of a smile.

He couldn’t take it. The dragon inside of him wanted to roar and claim her as his own. He wanted to yank her into his arms and take her so far away from here that this place could turn into a bad memory. But here he was, still obeying the Axis—with the notable exception of teaching a prisoner how to read—and until he found a way to break from them, he didn’t deserve her smile. Or anything else from her. He walked to the exit hatch, hesitated with his hand just above the sensor.

“Stavian,” she said quietly.

He turned. “Yes?”

“You said you wanted to help people down here,” she said. “You are.”

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