Page 55 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
He stepped forward. “You’re wrong about that.”
She glanced at Cerani. “You really think this ends with freedom? That she’s something new? She is just another flaw in a long chain of weak choices.”
Cerani didn’t flinch, but she pressed closer to his side. “Ignore her. She’s a coward hiding behind a uniform.”
Bendahn ignored Cerani as if she didn’t exist. “Stavian,” she said. “Think about what you came from. What we gave you.Power. Rank. A life with control. A place among us. Who served you? Who kept you protected? It was us. The Axis.”
“You used me,” he said. “You gave me clearance and then kept secrets behind my back.”
“To protect you.” She stepped closer. “You are valuable to us.”
“As what?” he spat. “Another prisoner? That’s what I am if I don’t have the choice to leave.”
She blinked. “No one said you can’t leave.” She actually tried to sound reasonable, rational. “But I can’t let you leave with them,” she said. “Not with prisoners of the Axis. And not with her.”
Stavian braced against a sharp twist in his chest. It spread through his ribs and down his spine. His teeth ground together, pressure building in his jaw. His breath caught halfway up his throat. “I will leave,” he said through a locked jaw. “With whom I choose.”
But he didn’t feel right. Something was happening—inside him.
Cerani stepped closer. “Stavian…” Concern edged her voice. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. His throat burned. His skin itched like fire under the suit. Heat bloomed through his back, along his shoulders, like muscle was stretching—splitting. He staggered forward, finding a little balance on the flat hangar floor.
Cerani reached for him. “Stavian.”
He wanted to look at her. Wanted to give her assurance. But every nerve in his body was on fire.
Bendahn watched him with interest. Not concern.Interest. Her mouth ticked up with the smallest curl. “So,” she said, “they were right. It just took proper motivation for you to find the old form.”
Stavian dropped to one knee. His hands planted on the cold metal of the hangar floor. His fingers shook as the bones shifted underneath, growing longer. Long, curved claws tore through the tips of his gloves.
“What is happening?” Cerani asked breathlessly. Her hand tightened on his arm.
A pained grunt pushed from Stavian’s throat. The skin down his neck felt like it was on fire. His scales thickened over his shoulders—his wings flexed wide and snapped, too big for his back, tearing the seams of his uniform.
Air left his lungs.
He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t confused. He was furious.
“You lied to me,” he said, no longer sounding like himself. “About what I was.”
“Calm yourself.” Bendahn’s expression stayed neutral, but she didn’t come closer. “Letting the dragon out won’t fix anything. You never found your way to the shift. We trained you to be civilized. Disciplined.”
Dragon. What else about himself and his people was he unaware of? Stavian let out a raspy growl. “You kept me from knowing I could burn down your whole system with one breath.”
He swayed, dropped to all fours. His hands were too big now. His claws scratched against the hangar’s deck plates. His jaw ached as his mouth opened wider, and his bones changed shape. One more breath.
He knew he wasn’t fully there, wherever there was. He was still him, sort of, but in an in-between form. He didn’t have time, though. And more than that, he was afraid of what he could become if he gave himself over to the thing taking over his body. His thoughts were becoming less defined. Rage overwhelmed him. Before he lost himself completely, he lunged forward and roared.
Fire burst from his mouth. A jet of molten heat slammed into the floor not a meter from Bendahn’s feet. It exploded in a rush of white and yellow flame. The deck trembled under the impact. The shock wave forced Cerani to brace, her arm shielding her face.
Bendahn didn’t flinch. She turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing against the brightness, and raised one hand. “Now,” she said to the shadows behind her.
A faint click. Sleek metal glinted in the light.
Stavian’s growl cut off.
He heard the dart whistle through the air—but was too late to stop it.
