Chapter 13
ELLA
Iwake up to the dull ache of too-thin air and the sharp bite of metal under my spine. My skull hums like someone stuck a tuning fork behind my eyes. For a second, I can’t remember where I am. Then I see him.
Takhiss.
He’s crouched a few feet away, elbows on his knees, staring at me like I’m a riddle he hasn’t figured out how to solve.
The glow from the emergency panels throws weird shadows across his scales, highlighting every cracked ridge and streak of dried blood.
He looks like a war god carved out of obsidian and vengeance.
My mouth is dry. My chest feels like someone sandpapered the inside of my lungs.
“I’m alive?” I croak, voice wrecked.
He grunts. “You lived.”
That’s it. No tender words. No dramatic sigh of relief. Just those two words, like I’m some dumb creature he dragged back from the edge of extinction with nothing but spit and spite.
My face goes hot. “Thanks for the inspirational speech, asshole.”
He shrugs. “You passed out in my arms. Forgive me if I wasn’t feeling poetic.”
“You think that’s funny?” I snap, struggling to sit up. “You think almost dying is a joke?”
“No,” he growls, standing. “But you laughing in your sleep was.”
I gape at him. “I was not laughing.”
“You called me Rael.”
I freeze. Shit. My stomach flips.
“Who’s Rael?” he asks, voice low.
“My brother,” I lie automatically. “Dead.”
He stares at me a second longer than is comfortable, then nods once. Doesn’t push. But something behind his eyes shifts. And I hate how guilty I feel. He saved my life. Again. And I… I kissed him. Didn’t I?
“Did I—?” I begin, then stop.
“You were hallucinating,” he cuts in, too fast. “It wasn’t real.”
Right. Real or not, the memory of his mouth against mine burns bright and vivid, soft and shockingly careful for a soldier built like a murder machine. My stomach does a somersault and I want to die from embarrassment.
I try to change the subject. “We need power. If that scrubber fails again, we’re screwed.”
He nods. “There’s a micro-reactor pod in the forward auxiliary. Could rig it.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’ve got a better plan?”
I don’t. So I suit up. He does too. We attach ourselves with an old tether cord—him in front, me behind.
I try not to stare at the way his massive frame blocks everything ahead.
He moves like a predator, each step calculated, smooth, deliberate.
I’m not used to being the small one in the room.
Next to him, I feel like a goddamn mouse.
The corridor is a jagged wound of torn hull plating and frozen blood. It groans with every shift, like the whole wreck might shudder apart. My heart hammers as I crawl through a half-collapsed section of wall, the tether pulling tight behind me.
“Careful,” he says.
“No shit,” I mutter.
We find the pod. It’s mostly intact, but one side is scorched, melted into slag. I check the readouts with numb fingers.
“Backup gen’s still good,” I say. “If we reroute the input—”
“I carry. You patch,” he says, already yanking the thing loose from its moorings.
“God, you’re bossy.”
“And you’re mouthy,” he grunts. “Let’s go.”
The drag back is brutal. My muscles scream. My suit’s heat-regulator starts to flicker. Takhiss ends up taking most of the weight. By the time we collapse back into the sealed chamber, I’m dizzy and soaked in sweat, my undersuit clinging to every curve.
We sit on opposite sides of the generator while it hums to life, casting a faint yellow glow across the chamber. The heat returns slowly, and with it, silence.
Not the awkward kind. Not tension.
Anticipation.
I glance at him through the flickering shadows. His scales glisten faintly, cracked and burned in places. One arm bleeds sluggishly from a cut he didn’t mention. Probably didn’t even notice.
“Hold still,” I say, crawling toward him.
He watches me. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t argue. Just lets me kneel beside him and peel back the damaged edge of his armor. His skin beneath is rough, warm, and smells like metal and ash. I clean the wound, then slap a dermal patch over it. My fingers linger. His jaw tightens.
“You didn’t have to carry all that weight alone,” I whisper.
“You would’ve collapsed again.”
“I’m not fragile.”
“I know.”
His voice is rougher than usual. Lower. Almost… tender.
I meet his eyes. Red and burning and unreadable. The bond between us hums like a second heartbeat. I feel it deep in my bones, vibrating through the air between us.
“I remember the kiss,” I murmur.
He looks away. “You weren’t yourself.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”
His head snaps back to me.
I lean in slowly, like testing gravity. His claws flex. His breathing changes. My lips are inches from his, and this time, there’s no haze. No fever. No excuses.
But I don’t kiss him.
“Next time,” I say softly, brushing my fingers against his chest. “It’ll be real.”
And he just nods, eyes on fire, like he’s waiting for the stars to fall.