Page 11

ELEVEN

Cerani

Cerani woke with her mouth dry and her skin cool. Blinking against the overhead light, she waited for the fog in her head to lift. The air smelled clean—too clean. No dust. No metal. No rust.

She was in the med room. Alone.

Memories came fast. Stavian had been in this room with her. He’d carried her out of the mine and stayed while her leg was being repaired. He’d said things… Stars, he’d said things she hadn’t expected. Things that upended everything she thought she understood.

I’m falling in love with you.

She hadn’t known what to say. Even now, the words sat heavy in her chest. Not because she didn’t feel something, but because she did. Too much, too fast, in a place where survival came first and nothing was guaranteed.

Cerani closed her eyes and let the memory sink in—his voice, his steadiness, the way he looked at her like she mattered. It hadn’t felt like a fantasy. It had felt real. And terrifying.

The monitor system behind her gave a soft click, like it had just figured out she was awake. She didn’t look at it. Dread clawed up her throat as she peeled back the blanket and stared down.

Her leg looked…normal.

Not swollen. Not crooked. No bruising. The skin from knee to ankle was smooth, maybe paler than before. But it was whole.

Cerani let out a breath, only half believing what she was seeing. She wiggled her toes, then flexed them. All five responded. She lifted her foot off the bed a few inches and rolled her ankle.

No pop. No stab of pain. Just a faint soreness. Like she’d taken a hard fall while sprinting and walked it off too fast.

“You’re kidding,” she whispered.

Still, she didn’t trust it. She scooted forward on the bed. The light beside her blinked blue once. Then white. The monitor registered that she wasn’t fully on the bed, but she didn’t care. She let her heel hover above the floor, and tapped her toes onto the hard surface. A light shock ran up her spine, but that was just nerves. Her other foot followed. Slowly, carefully, she stood.

Weight settled through her legs. Nothing buckled. She stood there for a second, then bent her knee. Lowered herself half an inch. Straightened again.

She pressed her palm to the side wall, then took a step. The tile was smooth under her feet, sterile and a little too shiny. Her left leg was stiff, but it didn’t give out.

She could walk.

Cerani looked around the small room, half expecting someone to step in with a warning. A mech guard. A medic. Stavian. But no one came. Her old under-suit and EP gear were nowhere in sight. Not on the chair. Not folded near the wall tray. Not binned for incineration, either. Just gone.

Cerani looked down at herself—bare from head to toe, and inexplicably clean. Her skin was soft and smooth with no evidence of the blood and dirt that had covered her when she’d arrived here. But she was naked. Her leg had been healed, but they’d taken everything else.

She snatched the blanket from the bed and pulled it around herself, dragging it under her armpits and tying the corners until they held. It wasn’t totally secure, but it would do.

The door was smooth. She stepped close and laid a hand against the panel. No alarm. No lock. No one telling her to sit down or wait for clearance.

She pressed her fingers just a little harder and the door slid open with a faint hiss.

Cerani blinked against the brighter light spilling in. The med lab stretched wide—roomier than the intake chambers and ten times cleaner than the barracks.

Along the far wall, beds like hers were lined up in crisp rows. Almost all of them were filled with a body. Miner suits had been stripped away and replaced with blankets like hers. What was left behind was just…beings of different species who had somehow run afoul of the Axis. Not numbers. Not quotas. People, if only the Axis would see them that way.

A female with coils of transparent hair lay still with two lines taped down the inside of her arm. A taller male halfway down the aisle twitched in his sleep, murmuring something through a breathing mask. He must have taken a lung-blast during the collapse. Another miner—one she recognized from the lift crews—was of a species that had no eyelids, so he was wide-eyed but covered to the chest in a thick containment blanket. Monitors blinked above all of them, quiet and rhythmic.

Cerani took one step into the room and stopped.

The floor was warm under her feet. It was so much quieter here than in the shaft. Softer, even. No dust hung in the air.

Far down on the left side of the room, medics moved between beds. They wore standard Axis white with sharp cuffs and zero insignia. One hovered beside the bed of a miner named Sifer, methodically entering something onto the screen beside him.

Cerani’s shoulders eased a degree. They weren’t taking the miners offline. They were trying to heal them.

A second medic adjusted something on the panel above…Jorr. She recognized his tall, blue form instantly. Her chest squeezed at the sight of him. He was alive. Cerani moved forward, down the aisle between the beds, one hand tightened around the knot she’d made in the blanket above her breasts. Every step felt surreal—like she’d walked into someone else’s dream. No crystal trays. No mech barking orders. Just rows of quiet, injured people sleeping and healing.

She stopped when her gaze fell on a small figure who lay on a bed to her left. Sema . Her form was half-covered in a med-wrap blanket. Her hands rested at her sides, palms up. A mask covered the bottom half of her face, and leads ran from her chest to the monitor above her head. She looked…peaceful. Healthier than she’d seen this female in a long time.

Cerani moved to rush forward—then froze.

A medic beside Sema’s bed had looked up, appearing frozen in place.

Cerani blinked. “I’m just checking on her,” she said.

The medic didn’t reply.

The second one—closer to the wall monitors—turned and stared too. She was shorter, with dark hair pinned back at the base of her head. Her mouth parted like she was about to ask a question, but nothing came out.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Cerani said carefully. “I just want to see my friends.”

The medics glanced at one another. The second one took a small step back. The look on her face was something between nerves and…fear? No, not quite. Wariness.

Was it because she had left her bed? Because she was walking already?

Cerani swallowed and stepped up to Sema’s side.

She didn’t stir. Not even a twitch. But her vitals blinked steady blue in the corner, and there was no red on the panel. Her breathing looked normal. Her skin had color.

“She’s healing,” the quiet medic said finally. Her voice didn’t match her posture—stiff, arms folded over her datapad, like she wasn’t sure what standing near Cerani meant. “The controller forbade us from taking anyone offline.”

Cerani nodded and her chest swelled at the thought of Stavian. She could imagine him in here, ordering the medics to save everyone they could. He’d changed so much from the cool, aloof controller who strode through the mines, rarely looking at anyone. She didn’t know how much of that was her influence on him, or if he’d just come to his senses himself. But seeing him change, grow, feel, had made all those things happen in her, as well. “Good.”

There was nothing else to say. Relief curled low in her stomach and stayed.

She glanced back toward Jorr. “And him?”

“Ninety-six percent healed. He will be awoken and returned to the barracks later this cycle,” the medic replied.

That reminded Cerani of her own situation, and she turned her gaze to the main exit. “I need to return to the barracks, too” she said.

The taller medic squinted at her like she’d said something in an unknown dialect. “Now?”

“Yes. My leg works. I’m not on a locked schedule right now, am I?”

Neither medic answered.

Cerani tilted her head. “Am I?”

“I…no,” said the second one, but she didn’t sound confident. “It’s just…your status is listed as ‘in treatment,’ and we cannot change it. The controller has placed you under his supervision.”

Cerani tried not to bristle at the word “supervision,” as she knew she was still a prisoner here, and he was still the controller. She looked down at herself. The fancy medical blanket had slipped a little, and her skin was marked with old scarring and fresh pink tissue—proof her leg had healed fast. Too fast. Maybe that was what made them stare.

“Well, I’m not in treatment anymore, as you can see,” she said. “I’ve walked the length of this room. My leg doesn’t ache and I don’t feel like I’m about to fall over. Is there a way to ask him if I can leave?”

The first medic finally spoke again. “Your suit’s been destroyed for contamination protocols. You need to stay here until we can bring you fresh gear.”

“How long will that take?” She crossed her arms. “Where is Controller Stavian?”

“I don’t know.” He wrung his hands. “This situation does not adhere to protocol.”

The Axis and their fekking protocol. They were almost comically lost without it. She shifted her weight onto her good leg—well, her formerly bad leg, now apparently good again—and crossed her arms above the blanket. “There has to be something I can wear now. Basic barracks clothes. Even a shift cloak.” Her stomach rumbled. “I’d like to get back. I’m hungry.”

The taller medic swiped something on her panel and shook her head, muttering to herself. “I alerted the controller, but I don’t know when—”

Footsteps echoed down the hall outside the med lab—quick, deliberate, heavy.

Cerani turned toward the sound. The medics turned too.

The door opened a breath later. Stavian stepped through, shoulders squared, wings folded against his back. He scanned the room so fast it might’ve looked careless to someone else, but she saw it—how his eyes cut down each row of beds, locked on every face until he found the one he was desperate to see.

Her.

For half a second, they just stared at each other. His chest rose with one hard breath. Then he moved. He didn’t even glance at the medics. He crossed the room in five strides and wrapped his arms around her. Just like that. No caution. No restraint. His hands slid to her upper arms, his fingers bare against her skin.

“You’re up,” he said softly, “You’re walking.”

“I am.”

One of his thumbs brushed a line across her shoulder. Her throat tightened like her breath couldn’t catch up to her heartbeat. This was a facility. A med lab. The two medics were right there, staring at them as if they didn’t know what to do. None of that appeared to matter to him. Not right now.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

His hands stayed on her arms. The warmth in them spread fast, unraveling her thoughts. “Good,” she said. “Strong. And very clean.”

“It wasn’t me. The bed has a disinfecting setting.” He reached for her hand and slid his fingers between hers as though he’d done so a thousand times before. “You shouldn’t be up yet.”

“You sound like the medics.”

“They’re probably right.”

She didn’t tell him she’d already walked the whole length of the room. Or that she’d argued with both medics in an effort to get some clothes. None of that was important now. His grip was firm and careful, like he wasn’t sure if this was a victory or a warning.

Cerani swallowed. Her other hand twitched near his chest. If she let herself, she’d reach up and touch the side of his face. She’d pull his mouth down to hers and let every sharp, broken thing inside her get swallowed up. It would be easy. Too easy.

She glanced past him. The taller medic was staring. Not with shock—but with realization.

Cerani cleared her throat and stepped back. Only half a step. Just enough to signal this couldn’t happen here. Don’t.

Stavian seemed to feel the shift in her body. His hands dropped to his sides, but there was tension in his jaw that said he didn’t want to let her go. His hand brushed against hers as he stepped beside her, turning toward the medics. “I’ll take her back to the barracks.”

The tall medic blinked. “She needs a suit. She’s not cleared for exposure yet.”

Stavian raised one brow. “You know she’s immune…”

The medic’s mouth opened, then closed.

Stavian took a step toward the medics, forcing eye contact. “What you really mean is, she needs the monitor panel. That’s what you’re worried about. Not the radiation.”

Neither medic responded.

Stavian gave a cold, thin smile. “That’s what I thought.” His wings twitched. “I’ll requisition new gear and assign her status to my watch rotation. She’s under my escort from now on.”

Still no pushback. Not even a whisper.

Cerani wasn’t surprised. No one argued with the controller—especially not when he carried the full force of the Axis title and looked like he’d throw someone through a wall if they raised an objection.

He placed one hand gently at the small of her back. Not possessive. Not demanding. But steadier than it should’ve been, considering the heat rolling off him.

“Come with me,” he said.

She did.

The moment the med lab door hissed shut behind them, everything changed. The corridor stretched empty ahead, dimly lit and silent, the kind of silence that begged for rules to be broken.

Cerani felt the shift before it happened—his hand flexing once against her spine, his breath hitching.

Then he moved.

Without hesitation, he slid an arm around her waist and turned sharply, guiding her into a dark alcove off the main corridor. It was narrow and shadowed, barely big enough for two bodies. She barely had time to ask what he was doing before his mouth was on hers.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t speak. His wings came forward and wrapped around them, encasing her in the dark, intoxicating scent of him. He kissed her like he’d been starving for it—like every second since the last time had burned in him like a fuse. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against his chest, and her fingers clutched his uniform like she might fall apart if she let go.

Cerani kissed him back. Hard. The kind of kiss that tasted like missed chances and locked doors.

She didn’t hold back. She’d told herself this wasn’t safe, not real, certainly not smart, but none of that mattered. Not with his hands spanning her waist and his mouth moving like he knew what she’d been holding in and wanted to pull it straight from her skin.

Cerani pressed closer, her body caged between the cold wall and the heat of him. He was solid. Too solid. Like gravity. Her stomach flipped as his lips dragged against hers, slow for a second, like he wasn’t entirely sure he should be letting go. Then she curled her fingers into his collar and tugged him closer—and that was it. That was permission.

He groaned, and there was desperation in it. Like he’d meant to keep this quiet, controlled. But control was long gone.

Her hands clawed over his chest, over the hard line of his shoulder, catching the edge of one of his ridged wings. It was huge and heavy, with the same smooth, gleaming sapphire scales that covered the rest of him. She felt the sharp hitch of his breath as she explored the thick muscles that held up those magnificent wings, and he kissed her harder, like the whole world outside the alcove had fallen away.

She wanted to drown in this—the heat of him, the way his mouth moved like it had no intention of ever breaking contact, the way her heart was thudding like it hadn’t beat right in cycles and was just figuring everything out again.

He tipped his forehead to hers, breathing just as fast as she was.

“Cerani.” His thumb swiped gently across her cheekbone. “If this isn’t what you want—”

“I’ll say it,” she whispered.

But she didn’t.

She stared up at him. Every inch of her was pressed against his frame, and she didn’t say a word. Asking him to stop after that kiss felt like asking a star to stop burning.

He brushed her hair back, quiet for a long second. The air was thick with all the things neither of them could afford to say. Then, finally, he stepped back. Just enough to give her room.

“We have to move,” he said. “There’s a storage wing a level down. We’ll get you something to wear.”

She blinked at him, still catching her breath. “Then I’ll go back to the barracks.”

His face changed—not hard, not cold. Focused. “No,” he said.

She frowned. “Why not?”

“You’re not going back to the barracks,” he growled, running a hand down her hair, tugging lightly.

She watched him carefully, unable to read this hungry, possessive version of him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll stay with me,” he said.

Her stomach twisted. “In admin housing?”

“In my quarters.” His silver eyes were nearly luminescent in their intensity.

She started. “That’s against every rule—”

“ Fek the rules. You’re on medical observation status. We’ll say your vitals require direct supervision.”

“But I’m not sick.” She looked up at him skeptically. “Those medics saw us and they know that you—that I…”

“They know nothing,” he said. “They think they saw a controller who wants to fuck a prisoner, which they’ve seen a hundred times—not with me,” he added quickly. “They won’t say a thing. If I need to file a false record about you needing isolation, I will. That’s something I can manage.”

Cerani hesitated. All the alarms in her head wanted to scream. This would be crossing a line. Not a personal one—she’d already crossed that. But public. Visible. Tied to his title, his control. “I don’t know, Stavian.” She bit her lip, hit with uncertainty. “Why is this necessary? We should keep this a secret for as long as we can.”

“Cerani, if something goes wrong before we’re ready, they’ll come for you first,” he said. “And I will not let that happen. I have a plan. A way to get you—and the others—off this moon. But we need those miners on their feet and that will take a few cycles. During that time, I will keep you safe, and that means keeping you close.”

She exhaled, reeling with this new information. A plan? She’d hoped they’d come up with one, but apparently he’d been busy while she’d been unconscious. “Stavian—”

“You said yes to learning to read,” he cut in. “Say yes to this. To being mine.”

Cerani pressed a hand to the smooth wall beside the alcove. Cold metal. Clean lines. This wasn’t just protection—it was him asking for something more. He wanted her close, not just to keep her safe, but because he needed her with him. As his. Not in some controlling way, but in a way that said, “I’m choosing you.”

He was asking her to choose him back. Not just for now. For what came next. Her chest swelled, not with fear, but with clarity. After everything, her heart already knew the answer. She looked back at him. He held himself still, wings tense, face unreadable like he was bracing for a no.

But all she could think about was how it felt to be with him.

To feel steady.

To hold on to something that didn’t hurt—something that made her feel seen, like she wasn’t just surviving, but was worthy of being chosen. Wanted. Cherished. It was the way he looked at her like she mattered in a way no datapad or designation ever could. It was right there, in his eyes—she wasn’t just useful or strong. She was someone worth protecting. Someone worth upending the galaxy for.

And in him, she saw more than the title. More than the uniform. She saw the way he held people’s names close—the way failure unsettled him more than power ever soothed him. He saw the broken parts of the world and wanted to fix them, not because he was ordered to, but because it was who he was beneath the control they’d forced on him.

For the first time, she wasn’t alone in the fight to be more than the life she’d been handed. And that—that was something worth holding on to.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, to being yours.”

His eyes softened instantly. Relief washed over his features like a loosened knot unraveling all at once. His shoulders, drawn tight with restraint, eased visibly—as if the weight of the hope and fear he’d carried for her had finally found its answer.

“Let’s go.” He reached for her hand again.

This time, she grabbed his right back.