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TWELVE

Stavian

Stavian had never brought anyone here. His quarters sat far above the command wing, just off the secondary access tunnel connecting to the surface compound. The building was nearly deserted at this time, the beginning of the sleep cycle. Lights glowed softly along the curved walls, perfectly spaced, with not a single smudge on the floor.

This room was enormous—too clean, too orderly. The walls were pale gray, sleek and featureless. It looked stripped of personality—like an image from a catalog rather than a space someone actually inhabited. Twice the size of the barracks, yet ten times more sterile. Two wide doors at the back slid open into a sleeping chamber, revealing a perfectly made bed, a sink basin carved from black stone, and not a single piece of clothing scattered around. Another wall opened into a bathing unit, separated by a frosted screen.

The ceiling was all glass. No small section—every inch overhead was clear, displaying the sky outside, or what passed for a sky on this moon. Red haze during the day. Ember stars at night. Those stars were scattered across the dome like splatters of white gold. Cerani’s bare feet didn’t make a sound as she stepped from his washroom, but he felt the weight of that silence.

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.”

She finished the first plate quickly and reached for a second helping of whatever mystery substance the food was made of. “Do you know what this is?”

“Not exactly.” He shrugged. “It labeled itself as meal 14-C. It’s replicated from proteins and…hmm. I can find out, if you’d like.”

“Not necessary.” She held up her full spoon with reverence. “14-C is officially a wonder.”

“You can have it whenever you want,” he said. “And any of the other food selections.”

She looked at him with more weight in her stare now. “I might take you up on that.”

They ate in near peace after that—the scrape of metal flatware, the rustle of his wings, and the unfamiliar rhythm of shared space. It was strange, but wondrous.

Stavian flexed his hands under the table. He knew the conversation that had to come next. The one he dreaded. He set his utensil down. Leaned back.

“There’s something I should say before this goes any further,” he told her. “And I’d rather say it before I lose the nerve.”

She paused mid-chew and looked at him like she was bracing herself. “Go ahead.”

He stared down at the table, fingers lightly curled. Every memory rose at once—training cycles, rank reviews, watching fear walk across a thousand faces that never looked back at him like she did. “I don’t know how to be with someone,” he said.

She blinked, staying still.

He steeled himself and forced the words out. “I’ve never been in any kind of relationship. Not physical, not emotional. I’ve had orders, structure, directives. But connections with others weren’t part of that.” He raised his eyes slowly, locking onto hers. “Not until you.”

Cerani’s chest rose. She didn’t flinch or look away, but gazed back at him, willing him to go on.

“I don’t want to mess this up. Or make decisions from a place that still feels like command,” he added, forcing more air into tight lungs. “So I’m saying clearly—until we’re both free of the Axis, I expect nothing from you. Physically.”

She blinked, swallowed. A subtle shift in her breathing. “Okay.”

His hands curled lightly around the edge of the table. “I want our joining to be yours as much as mine,” he said. “I’ve never touched anyone the way I want to touch you, and I want the first time to be outside of systems and ranks and Axis authority.”

She paused long enough that doubt started crawling up his spine. Perhaps she found his lack of experience disappointing, or worse, thought he’d hurt her. But then she set her fork down and leaned back with her arms folded under the sleeves of his tunic. Her mouth curved into the first wide, full smile he’d seen her make. Her cheeks lifted and her eyes twinkled. “Good.”

“Good?” He hadn’t meant to let the question slip—not like that—but her response had caught him off guard. What did that mean? Good. It could mean anything.

“Yes. Good.” She closed her eyes and looked away as color darkened her cheeks. “I’m sitting in your quarters, wearing your shirt and nothing else. I’d say we’re quite outside the system of ranks and Axis authority.” She raised one arched brow. “Unless you plan to put me back in the mines?”

“No,” he said harshly. “You’ll never go back there. And the miners—”

She held up her forefinger, and he fell quiet. “I want to hear your plan. Later.”

“Later?” He was still recovering from the effects of that smile. He wanted to give her more than what this place allowed. More than what it had stripped from her cycle after cycle. And fek it all, he wanted to make her smile every cycle.

“I’ve been someone’s property since the day I was born.” Her fingers tensed around the plate, then slowly relaxed. “My bondmate never asked what I wanted. He expected me to obey and keep his house running. And when I didn’t—or couldn’t—he punished me. He’d deny me food, make me work without sleep, and sometimes used his fists. When he died, I thought I’d get to breathe a little easier. But instead, I got hauled to a system prison and chained again.”

“I’d like to revive him from death and kill him again.” He kept his voice quiet, but he could hear the menace in his own voice. How anyone could treat this precious female in such a way defied all reason.

“I’m…stars, Stavian. No killing on my behalf, please,” she replied.

That was a request he couldn’t promise to grant. “I’d do much worse than kill for you, Cerani,” he said softly, and considered her surprised flush a win.

“Don’t distract me, I’m trying to get to my point,” she said, moving the conversation away from killing. “I care about you more than I thought I could care about anyone—” her voice faltered just long enough for him to see how difficult these words were for her to say, “—and I’m done being a prisoner.”

Now, it was his turn. “Good.”

She lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “I don’t want you to think I’m throwing logic out the air lock, but…”

Ah, his Cerani. Ever the pragmatist. A smile crept up the edges of his mouth—slow, surprised, but impossible to hold back.

“…I want this,” she said, steady and unwavering. “I want you. Here. And now.”

He let out a long breath. Did he hear what he thought he heard? Tension rolled off his shoulders as he sat there, frozen. How badly he’d wanted to hear that. To know she wanted him, really wanted him, and now he wasn’t sure his ears were to be believed.

He leaned forward casually, but it was an effort to appear so. “Cerani, if you’re sure, I will have you,” he said. “But once I do, there will be no other for me. Ever. So be certain that this is what you want. There will be no going back.” There. He said it, and he knew in his heart and gut and everywhere else that those words were true. There was no more blunt and honest way of putting it.

She nodded, almost regally, as if acknowledging the power she had over him and accepting it. He saw the first glimpse of the female she was beyond the survivor she’d had to be. “I am certain, Stavian. I don’t wish to go back. To any of it.”

They sat in silence again. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he get up and just…carry her to bed? Perhaps they needed to discuss the terms of their copulation. She might want a physical inspection before taking him inside of her. What if his cock was too big for her? Or too small? Or… He frowned. “I don’t know the protocol for this.”

Across from him, she picked up another piece of 14-C. Her shoulders were straighter now. Lighter. And just like that, another piece of all this fell into place. The ache behind her eyes was gone. Her leg was healing. So was she. Maybe so was he. She smiled at him. “You need to stop with the protocol. There is no protocol.”

He tapped a finger on the table. “Very well. When you’re finished eating, I’m going to get up, carry you to that bed, and make you mine in every way.” He held her gaze, knowing she could see it all—hunger, desire, need. “And if you could hurry, I’d appreciate that.”