A minute passes.
Then five.
Then ten.
I start giggling.
It bubbles up out of nowhere, this ridiculous, high-pitched laugh like I’ve just heard the funniest joke in the universe. I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle it, but it doesn’t stop.
Takhiss turns toward me, brow furrowed. “Ella?”
“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” I wheeze, shaking. “I just—do you realize we’re running a scrubber off a dead guy’s respirator? That’s not engineering. That’s grave robbing with extra steps.”
He doesn’t answer.
I start crying.
It’s not gentle or pretty. It’s raw, snot-and-sobs crying, and I hate it. Hate that he’s seeing me like this, small and cracked open and terrified. I slide down the wall and curl in on myself.
A shadow falls over me.
Then his arms.
Warm. Strong. Careful.
He doesn’t say a word. Just kneels and wraps me against his chest like I’m made of something breakable. His scales are cool under my cheek. His heartbeat is a slow, steady drum that drowns out the panic.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Just breathe with me.”
I do.
It takes time, but I do.
My fingers curl into the rough weave of his under-armor. His claws stroke lightly down my spine. Every pass leaves shivers in its wake. Not fear. Not anymore.
Gratitude.
Relief.
Something deeper.
Later, we lie together near the heat coil again. The emergency lights strobe dim and red against the walls, casting long shadows. I’m in his lap, cradled like a secret. His tail coils around my ankle without thinking.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He doesn’t hesitate. “So am I.”
It’s the most honest thing I’ve heard since the world ended.
I tilt my head, looking up at him. His face is unreadable, all sharp lines and shadows, but his eyes burn like coals banked in ash. He’s watching me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
He brushes a claw along my cheek. Not hard. Not possessive. Just… soft.
Intimate.
“Why haven’t you kissed me?” I ask.
He stiffens. Breath catches. But he doesn’t pull away.
