PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki:

August 26, 2025

17:16 EST

The Autumn

Atlantic Ocean: 27˚37’41” N-72˚20’59” W

Leaning against my skycar, I could feel the hot tears slowly trickling down my face, my hands trembling with the sheer force of the anger burning inside me. How could he say something like that? Did he really see me that way? As some sort of freak? Yes, we both endured the same experiment, but the Captain and the rest of the crew helped me grow into the woman I am today. I’m not some abomination or monster. I’m strong, independent—I've fought hard to be who I am. But his words... Did he see me as a freak? The way he looked at me the first time we met, I thought there was something there, a connection. So why say something so vile?

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the hiss of the hangar door opening, followed by the Captain’s voice cutting through the fog of my rage.

“Star, are you in here?” he called out.

I turned to see the source of my anguish standing there, as if summoned by my anger. Cayro Jacob Bracton. The insolent asshole who made me feel like I was something less than human. Without thinking, my hand reached for the nearest tool—a hefty one-and-a-half-inch box wrench—and I hurled it with all the strength I could muster. It spun through the air, a blur of metal, and narrowly missed his head before embedding itself deep into the carbon-aluminum alloy bulkhead of the corridor with a deafening clang. The impact reverberated through the hangar, and for a moment, everything was still.

Cayro and the Captain just stared at me, wide-eyed, as if they couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Then, in a swift motion, the Captain grabbed Cayro by the shirt and all but threw him into the hangar bay.

“Good luck, son, you know the arrangement,” the Captain said curtly before slamming the door shut and locking it with a definitive click.

I didn’t hesitate. Grabbing another wrench, smaller but still heavy enough to do some damage, I marched toward Cayro with fury rolling off me in waves. He started to backpedal until his back hit the bulkhead, and there was nowhere left for him to run. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, shoving the wrench under his chin, forcing his gaze to meet mine.

“HOW DARE YOU! DO I LOOK LIKE I’M SOME KIND OF MONSTER TO YOU, CAYRO JACOB BRACTON?!” I half-screamed, half-roared, my voice echoing off the walls of the hangar. My amethyst eyes, blazing with fury, reflected in his wide, fearful blue ones. I could see my rage in those eyes—how they burned with a light I couldn’t control. I waited, daring him to say the wrong thing, giving me the excuse I needed to unleash the storm inside me.

“N…N…no,” he finally stammered out, his voice barely above a whisper.

I narrowed my eyes at him, lowering the wrench slightly but still holding it tight in my grip.

“I’ve spent almost my entire life on this ship, Cayro. This crew—they helped raise me, taught me that I’m not a monster. But the moment you find out the truth, you decide you’re some unnatural human experiment? Do you know what that implies? It means you think I am too. I went through the same shit you did, you selfish, stuck-up asshole!” My voice shook with the intensity of my emotions, rising as I spoke, each word landing like a punch.

“I… I never thought of you as that,” he replied, his tone meek, almost childlike.

“Well, guess what? Those words hurt, Cayro. While you got to live your life like a normal kid—going to school, hanging out with friends, living in a nice house, enjoying the life of an American citizen—I had to live here. I didn’t get to go to school or make friends. I didn’t get to live in my country. And I most certainly did not get to experience a perfect childhood like you did. But here I am, and I’m proud of who I am and what I’ve accomplished in my life. I’ve learned how to be a good human. If I were some kind of monster, I wouldn’t love the people on this ship, and I wouldn’t care about you.”

The words flew out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Did I just admit that out loud? Crap… I felt my face flush with embarrassment, heat rising in my cheeks as I realized the full weight of what I had just confessed.

Letting go of him, I turned away, stalking back to my skycar, desperately trying to focus on the damaged door instead of the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside me. I needed to get my thoughts together. I didn’t like him—he was a total asshole toward me. How could I possibly like him or care for him after everything he said? I kept my back to him, the sound of his hesitant footsteps approaching only intensifying the turmoil in my chest. Damn it, why did my big mouth have to go and spill how I felt?

“Star… I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low, laced with uncertainty. “I just don’t know what to think or how to feel about what’s happening. This is all happening so fast, and I don’t feel like I’m myself anymore.”

His words made me pause. I straightened up and turned to face him. He stood a few feet away, shoulders slumped, eyes cast down to the floor. The sight of him, so vulnerable and lost, tugged at something deep inside me. I knew he was struggling, trying to make sense of everything. But I didn’t know how to reach him, how to make him understand that he wasn’t alone in this.

“Cayro, I can’t pretend to know exactly how you’re feeling,” I said, my voice steady but softening as the anger drained from me. “The Captain and my father told me about all of this when I was still a child. I grew up knowing what I was, and the crew raised me to accept it. You and I grew up completely differently, and that’s okay.”

I took a few steps closer, my fury now just a lingering echo as I looked into his eyes, searching for a way to connect. I could see the storm of emotions churning in his blue eyes—confusion, fear, a desperate need for reassurance. We stood there, locked in each other’s gaze, waiting for him to find the words to respond. But as we stood in that moment, an odd thought crossed my mind, something that felt so out of place yet demanded to be voiced.

“Why are your eyes blue? I thought they were green,” I asked softly, the question slipping out before I could catch it.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the unexpected question, and I saw the wheels turning in his head, trying to make sense of it.

“They’ve always been blue,” he replied, his tone uncertain.

“No, they were green the first time you came on board the Autumn,” I insisted, a note of confidence in my voice that surprised even me.

He furrowed his brow, clearly confused, but before he could say anything more, I found myself raising a finger to his lips, cutting him off. My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I was startled by the firm yet soft feel of his lips beneath my fingertip. A shiver ran down my spine, a sensation so foreign and unexpected that it left me reeling. What the hell was I doing? Why did it feel so good to touch him? My body was acting on its own, completely betraying me.

I forced my eyes back to his, struggling to regain control of myself. “Do you think that if I showed you how similar we are, it would help you accept what happened?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. At this point, I’d lost all grip on my anger and any semblance of rational thought.

“If you think it will help, then sure,” he replied, but the lack of conviction in his voice was obvious. He was still grappling with everything, just as unsure as I was.

Taking a deep breath, I finally stepped back from him, trying to regain my composure, though I could feel the undeniable shift in the air between us. Something was changing, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it.

“Take your shirt off,” I demanded, the words escaping before I could fully grasp what I was asking. Might as well go all the way and see what happens…

“W…what!” he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

“Just do it,” I insisted, my voice firm but laced with an edge even I didn’t recognize.

As he complied, lifting his shirt, my gaze snagged on the first sight of his midriff. A thin trail of hair led down from his navel to the waistband of his cargo pants. His abs, sculpted and defined, and his broad, chiseled chest filled my vision, searing themselves into my mind. He was gloriously built, and something dark, something primal that had been dormant deep within me, began to stir and uncurl.

With effort, I forced my gaze back to his eyes, trying to steady myself when I heard it—an ominous growl, a voice in the back of my mind that echoed with possessiveness, “Mine.” It was my voice, but deeper, darker, more primal. Shivering, I swallowed hard before approaching him slowly. I leaned down, searching for what I knew would be there. The faded scars from our first operation, barely visible, marked his body like echoes of a shared past.

I ran a finger along one scar that stretched from the bottom of his ribcage to just above his navel. His body tensed at my touch, and the presence in my mind grew stronger, more insistent, as a jolt of energy shot up from my fingertips to my core. The sensation was overwhelming, like the toll of a deep, resonant bell, and that voice, my voice, spoke again with fierce certainty, “MINE!” My body shuddered as I traced two identical scars that ran from his ribs to his hips, and I found myself licking my lower lip, imagining what it would be like to taste him, to savor the feel of him under my tongue. Did I just think that?

“Turn around,” I demanded, a low growl tinging my voice. Why was I growling? I wasn’t mad at him anymore. In fact, I was… pleased with him. How strange…

He turned as I commanded, and as he did, I saw the largest scar, the one that ran from the base of his skull down the length of his spine, stopping just above the waistband of his pants. It was mesmerizing. Without thinking, I leaned in, my hand resting on his back as I pressed my tongue against the scar, trailing it down the length. His skin was silken, a mix of spice, engine grease, and something else—something that tasted like… home. Why did he taste like home? What am I doing? Did I seriously just lick him? The sensation of the tolling bell echoed through me again, and that voice whispered with finality, “Mine!” Yes, he is mine.

Gently, I pushed him to turn back around, my hand lingering on his skin. When he faced me, his gaze was searing, his eyes no longer the blue I had thought, but a blazing emerald green, locking onto mine with an intensity that sent heat rippling through me. I couldn’t help but grin, licking my lips, savoring the moment.

“As I said before, your eyes are green,” I murmured, my voice low and sultry, a tone I barely recognized as my own. He growled in response, a sound that set my skin on fire. It was a hot, beautiful sound that made me crave more.

Without breaking his gaze, I reached down with both hands, grabbing my shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion, taking my bra with it. I wasn’t embarrassed by my body—I wanted him to see it, to understand who I was. But when I heard him hiss in surprise, reality struck me like a cold wave. I froze, suddenly aware of what I had just done. His eyes had slammed shut, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. The taste of him still lingered on my tongue as I stood there, exposed in more ways than one. What the hell had I just done? Did I really undress in front of him? The rush of cold clarity made me cross my arms over my chest, trying to cover my well-defined breasts.

“Open your eyes,” I insisted softly, my voice trembling with a mix of command and vulnerability.

His gaze seared my skin when he obeyed, taking me in for the woman I was. The emerald blaze of his eyes sent chills through my body, nearly freezing me in place. Despite my earlier boldness, I felt a strange mixture of fear and desire twisting inside me. Slowly, I reached out, guiding his hand to my scars, ensuring my other arm covered most of my chest. His hesitation was palpable, but the tips of his fingers eventually grazed down the lower scar on my right side, sending a shiver of pleasure through me that nearly made my knees buckle. The darkness in my mind stirred, groaning with a primal satisfaction I didn’t fully understand.

“See… We have scars in the same spots. You aren’t alone,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. His touch on my abs made my mind spin, the sensation overwhelming.

“So… we are similar then?” he asked, his voice hoarse, as if struggling to form the words.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice catching in my throat. Slowly, I turned around, showing him the scars on my back. I waited, feeling the tension between us thicken. His presence loomed behind me, and instead of his hand, I felt the wet warmth of his tongue trailing up the scar from the middle of my back to the base of my skull. A shudder of pure pleasure coursed through me, and without thinking, I arched back, letting out a moan that echoed through the hangar. The darkness in my head purred with delight, feeding off the raw energy of the moment.

The sound of my own voice jolted me back to reality. I clasped a hand over my mouth, horrified by what I had just done. Stepping away from him quickly, I could feel the dark presence in my mind growling in dismay. I grabbed my shirt and bra, diving behind the skycar, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.

“I’ve always wondered how I got these scars,” he grumbled softly, reaching down for his shirt, his voice a low rumble.

“Now you know,” I replied, my voice steadier as I pulled my clothes back on, but my mind was racing with confusion and embarrassment over what had just happened.

“Cayro?” I asked softly, still trying to make sense of everything.

“Hmm, yes?” he replied, a hint of that growl still in his voice as he turned around, straightening his shirt.

“Why did you gasp when you saw my body?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, my curiosity overpowering my embarrassment.

“I…um…” He started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ve never seen a woman naked before. Well, not in real life.”

His admission hung in the air between us, and I found myself staring at him, trying to process the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

“Oh…” I muttered, feeling a mix of awkwardness and regret starting to wash over me. “Why would you be embarrassed to see my body? It’s not like we were going to have sex.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but the truth was, the thought had crossed my mind—too many times. “I showed you my scars because they’re identical to yours. It was… for medical reasons.” I added, attempting to brush off the intensity of what had just happened, as if a clinical explanation could somehow erase the electricity in the air. I was definitely going to need a long shower after this.

Cayro stared at me, his expression utterly bewildered. His confusion only deepened the pit of embarrassment growing in my stomach. I tilted my head, genuinely puzzled by how he could be so shocked.

“So, you’ve never seen a female’s body in real life?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, my voice tinged with disbelief.

“No, never. You’re the first,” he admitted, and to my surprise, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Oh…” I whispered, feeling my own face begin to burn. What have I done?

“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly colder, his eyes narrowing as if I had insulted him.

“Because I figured… you would have had sex by now,” I replied, my tone betraying my own embarrassment. “I mean, you’re a healthy young male, and you just graduated high school. Isn’t that what most high school guys do? At least, that’s what happens in the books I read.” I looked up at him, my voice faltering as I realized how wrong I might have been.

The look he gave me—the sheer incredulity in his eyes—hit me like a punch to the gut. His mouth hung open, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said.

“Excuse me?” he finally spat out, crossing his arms defensively. “I never had a girlfriend in school, thank you very much,” he growled, his voice laced with hurt and frustration.

That’s when it hit me—he wasn’t joking. My hands flew to my mouth, mortified by my own assumptions. I could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck as I quickly turned away, ducking behind my skycar to hide from the intensity of the moment. The humiliation I felt was overwhelming, snuffing out any lingering desire or heat that had earlier clouded my judgment. What had I been thinking? I had shown him my body, touched him, licked him—God, I licked him—because I’d honestly thought he was experienced. I was so, so wrong.

What the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t even know what I was doing! I acted on impulse, driven by some primal instinct that I barely understood, and now I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered dignity. The taste of him still lingered on my tongue, a reminder of how out of control I had been.

I’ve never felt this way before—towards anyone. All my knowledge, all my studies, taught me that these feelings were natural, but this… this was something else entirely. It scared me, but at the same time, I wanted more. I’d never found a man who made me feel this way, who made me want to take things further. Not until now. But why him? Why Cayro? Biting my knuckles, I briefly considered telling the Captain about everything—about the darkness I’d felt, about how I’d lost control—but after how he reacted to my confession about the cat, I feared that this would only make things worse. Especially for Cayro.

“Star, the Captain told me to help you fix the skycar,” Cayro announced, his voice pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I poked my head out from behind the skycar to see him gathering tools from my toolbox. He walked over to the damaged door, clearly trying to focus on the task at hand. Slowly, I stepped out from my hiding spot and approached him, grabbing a wrench to continue working on the vehicle. The silence between us was thick with unspoken words, but I welcomed it. I needed the distraction—anything to keep my mind from replaying the events that had just unfolded.