Page 41 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
“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 theirfekkingprotocol. 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 wasfirm 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.”
