Page 44 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

She’d just traded her blanket for a spare black tunic he’d found for her. It hung past her thighs, sleeves bunched at her wrists, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever forget how she looked right now—bare legs against the pale floor, face scrubbed clean, brilliant red hair pulled back in a hasty tie.

She looked around, wide-eyed. He tracked her every step—from the moment she entered to when she stood square in the center, twisting her fingers like she hadn’t decided what she was allowed to touch.

“So…this is yours.”

“It is,” he said, and he moved to a recessed cabinet he hadn’t opened in weeks. His own space felt foreign now, like he was seeing it through her eyes. As if even he didn’t quite belong here.

She studied the walls, her face unreadable. “It’s very…clean.”

It was. Impeccably so. “A cleaning mech comes through once every four cycles.”

“It doesn’t have much to do.” Cerani pointed around at the pristine minimalism. “No personal items. No books. No anything.”

“It was furnished like this when I arrived,” he said. “I don’t own…stuff.”

“So you don’t have hobbies? Interests? Friends?”

“I have none of those things,” he said. Quiet. Honest. And sad. He hadn’t realized how empty his life was until he saw his private space through her eyes. “I have duty. Responsibility.”

“And I thought I was the prisoner,” she murmured. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and her voice came softer. “Feels like I shouldn’t even sit down without permission.”

“You don’t need permission. Not here,” he said immediately, pulling out a chair for her. She made everything feel like it needed reevaluation. It never occurred to him that maybe his room shouldn’t look like a sterile archive from Axis catalogs. That he had a personality and could change the look of his quarters. He wouldn’t know where to start. That terrified him almost as much as having her here. In the mine, he knew what to do. What to say. How to act.

Here? He was no Axis controller here.

She approached the seat hesitantly, as if it might bite her if she got comfortable.

He stepped around the opposite side, tapping a panel to bring up the replicator. “Are you hungry?”

She opened her mouth, but her stomach beat her to it by growling audibly.

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He keyed in the request for meal 14-C, one of the more savory, warm options their system could generate that didn’t remind him of the nutrition bars handed out in the lower barracks. He watched her reaction as steam curled off the plate—how her eyes widened like she couldn’t quite believe it. He placed the tray in front of her, then turned back for a second one.

Two trays. Four dishes. Enough silence crackling between them to start a fire. He set his tray down across from her and sat.

She picked up the spoon carefully. “It smells amazing.” A pause. “You eat like this every cycle?”

“Not usually,” Stavian admitted. “I eat in one of my offices while doing reports.”

She sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

The instant she took a bite, her body sagged and she let out a moan. “Fek. I forgot what it’s like to eat something warm.”

Stavian couldn’t look away—watching her eat was better than anything he’d experienced in a cycle. His throat was tight as he croaked out, “I’m glad you like it.”

She ate like someone who hadn’t had enough in a long time. He remembered the ration line. Thin food bricks. Dry packets. Tired hands holding their trays like they were gifts instead of punishment. They received plenty of food—the miners were not kept hungry—but it was not pleasant to eat.

When she looked hesitant to keep going, he said, “There’s more, if you want it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she mumbled around a mouthful. “This is better than anything I’ve had, even at the settlements. Honestly, the rations here are better than the gruel at the settlements.”

“You won’t have ration food again,” he said earnestly. “Watching you eat is a meal in itself.”

She gave him a look, halfway between fond and suspicious. “Is that your subtle way of saying I’m eating too fast?”

“No.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “It’s my not-subtle way of saying it’s nice to see you enjoy something.”

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