Akur (Restitution #3)

Constance

5

Constance

The world came back in fragments, like shards of a broken mirror piecing themselves together. Each shard brought with it another sensation—the damp chill in the air, the weight pressing down on her chest, and the absolute darkness surrounding them.

Constance coughed, her lungs burning as she drew in stale, musty air. “What…what just happened?” Did she get knocked out? Where the hell were they?

No answer came. Only the echo of dripping water somewhere in the distance and her own ragged breathing. Those were the only two sounds that broke the silence. The weight on her chest didn’t move. Didn’t respond.

“Rebel guy?” Her voice cracked. The fog in her mind was lifting, replaced by a clarity that felt like ice water in her veins. “Big guy?”

Still nothing.

Reality crashed over her like a tidal wave. The battle. The gator-guards. The rebel’s blood spraying through the air. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against his shoulder, trying to shift his massive frame .

“Come on, you overgrown mint candy. Get up. We have to get out of here.” Heck, she didn’t even know his name. Never talked to him back on the Restitution base. Never really got close to him until that night when the entire camp…oh god, the entire camp was gone. And he… what was he doing here ?

When he still didn’t move, panic threatened to close up her throat as she wedged her arms under his shoulders and pushed with everything she had. His body rolled slightly to the side, enough for her to wiggle free. The ground beneath her was rough stone, uneven and cold against her palms as she scrambled to her knees.

“Where are we? How…how did we get here?” Her whisper sounded loud in the darkness, and that only made the hairs along the back of her neck rise as if in warning. Where the hell were they? Her eyes strained against the darkness, but she could barely make out a thing. The air felt close, confined. Underground, maybe? But they’d been in the middle of the street moments ago. A street that had tall white buildings that looked so surreal…

And the rebel. Gods, it felt like a dream, but it must have been real. That gator-guard pushing her in that shuttle and injecting her with… something . And then seeing the tall teal alien free-falling toward their ship. It seemed impossible, but it wasn’t. It hadn’t been a dream because he was right here . And if everything that happened out there was real…there was no way he was still alive.

“Shit,” she breathed. “Oh, shit.”

Her hands shook, grasping bits of loose stone underneath her fingertips. A laugh threatened to rise, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs or just pure anxiety. She was pretty sure the alien was dead. And the other women? She didn’t know where Meredith and that silent woman were now.

“Oh, shit.” In the dark, her eyes slowly adjusted. She could barely make out the alien’s still form beside her, and her heart cracked where it had risen at the center of her throat. What this alien did—however he’d transported them from the center of that fight—was the only reason she wasn’t kneeling in front of one of those High Tasqals right now. The only reason she wasn’t being forced to bow before those deceased toad-like creatures.

She wasn’t a fool. She owed him her life, and she knew it. But the worst thing was, she couldn’t even thank him for what he did. He wasn’t moving, and the weight of that—the weight of it all—felt almost too heavy to bear.

What now? She couldn’t leave him here. She couldn’t just abandon him to find a way out. Not after what he’d done to save her. At the very least, he deserved to not have his body left rotting in…wherever this was.

“Shit,” she muttered again.

That’s when she heard it. A faint sound that whispered across the stillness—the barely audible sound of a soft breath, labored and wet.

Her heart stopped. “Big guy?”

Reaching out in the dark, her fingers trembled as they closed on his chest. Hard, the muscles felt like stone under her palm, but even with the chill stiffening her fingers, she felt the slight rise and fall.

He was breathing.

“Oh God.” A breath of relief shuddered through her, followed swiftly by anger that had no fire. “You stupid, stubborn…” A sob made her choke as trembling hands ran over what she could feel of his body, trying to map it as she assessed the damage. Her fingers came away sticky and warm. She lifted them in the dark, unable to see the blood that no doubt stained her hands red. “You fool.” Her hands trembled, a strained laugh that sounded more like a sob leaving her throat. “What kind of idiot dives into a horde of monsters to save someone they barely know?”

But the alien didn’t respond. Probably couldn’t. She was trying to remain positive, but the amount of wetness that came away on her hand could only mean one thing. He was alive, but barely so.

It was too dark for her to see the extent of his injuries, but she could feel them. Deep gashes in his side, charred flesh that crumbled under her touch. The metallic scent of blood that filled her nostrils. Her stomach turned, a wave of nausea rising at the unseen extent of the da mage beneath her fingertips. It was more horrifying than anything she could imagine.

But the fact he was breathing meant he was still fighting. And that meant she’d fight with him, too.

“Don’t you dare die on me.” She gripped the alien’s shoulders, staring down at where his face must be. The voice that left her lips was firmer, surer than she felt. But by God, she wouldn’t let him die. Fuck that.

Mind set, a sort of wild determination gripped her, burning through her veins like the heat emanating from the alien’s skin. She yanked at her blouse, gripping one end with her teeth as she pulled hard, tearing a strip of fabric. Beneath her, the alien released another breath, followed by a low groan, and she ripped the fabric harder.

“We’re going to get you patched up, and then we’re going to find a way out of this hole and back to the Restitution.” She ripped another piece of her blouse, so hard her jaw hurt. “I promise you that.”

The material was thin, but it would have to do. She wrapped the largest piece around him, struggling in the dark to get the fabric under and around him as she pulled it tight against the worst of the wounds she could find with her fingers. His skin was so hot, she was sure he was running a fever. But that had to be a good sign. It meant he was still fighting to stay alive.

“I have no idea where you came from.” She ripped another piece of fabric. “I still think I imagined it. You were…I saw you falling through space .” Her words tumbled out between hitched breaths as she worked. “If that didn’t kill you, I’ll be damned if we let this take you out.”

He needed to make it.

Right now, he was her only hope, and it seemed she was his.

Her hands moved as fast as she could make them, binding the makeshift bandages as tight as she dared. “You want to be a hero? Then stay alive, dammit. We’re not out of this shit yet.”

God. Why was she saying all this? The nerves? The anxiety? The fact she was stuck on an alien planet with nothing but enemies all around them? If the teal alien hadn’t come, she’d have been alone. And sh e was thankful that he was here. Some selfish part of her was happy he’d come, even though he had to risk his life to make it so. What did that say about her?

The only part of her blouse left was a short scrap that barely covered her breasts. She didn’t know if all the binding was even helping. Even with her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could still barely see a thing. For all she knew, her efforts were doing jack squat.

Swallowing hard, her fingers trembled again as she stretched them over the alien’s chest, documenting the rest of his injuries. There were other deep wounds, some that she missed. Fuck, he was charred and fried. Stabbed and clawed. How was he still breathing?

All she was wearing were pants made of the same thin material as her blouse. It took a lot of effort to bite into the material at her legs, but she made two holes, tugging at them until she turned the pants into shorts. With the free fabric, she balled it into her fist before pressing the wad against the remaining wounds she could find. It was all she could do, and she was very aware it wasn’t enough.

“Come on,” she whispered. “You can’t die here. You—”

The words stopped in her throat, her entire body stilling as a loud screeching sound echoed through the still air. In the dark, Constance’s head snapped toward the sound, her heart beating hard in her chest as her ears perked.

That wasn’t the sound of the wind.

They weren’t alone.

It was a chasm of darkness all around her. If she was at the edge of a cliff, she wouldn’t know. And that meant that whatever made that sound would be hidden by the darkness, too.

Seconds turned into minutes where she didn’t breathe, eyes wide in the dark as she stared in the direction the sound came from. But it didn’t repeat. Whatever it was, it was either gone, or it was still somewhere out there, lurking.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to focus on the alien before her. Using the wad of cloth she’d ripped from her clothes, she pressed it against the largest unwrapped wound she could find. “Now would be a really good time for you to do that magic thing you did and te leport us out of here,” she whispered. But that wasn’t going to happen. For all she knew, he wasn’t going to ever move again.

“Come on, Constance. What would he do?”

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly. What would he do? This teal alien was a warrior. One of the best. She knew that, because when the gator-guards descended on the Restitution, he was there. He and a cyborg guy had saved her and her roommate, Alaina. He’d moved with lethal precision and he’d saved her life. Just like he’d saved her life again here.

If he wasn’t injured, he’d take his swords, and he’d find a way out of this. He’d fight his way through. Swallowing hard, her hands moved over him again, and she tried not to focus on the damage she could feel. The charred skin, the ripped flesh. “Come on, big guy. Was it some kind of device? The thing you used to get us out of there?” Her hands ran down his legs, pressing against his trousers as she tried to find whatever thing he’d used to teleport them. If she could just find it, she could figure out how to get it to work again, maybe. It was the best idea she had now. “Maybe something I could use?”

Her fingers continued moving as she searched his pants. They closed around a definite bulge at the apex of his thighs that made her stop short, a moment before she jerked her hands away. Fuck. Of course, he had a dick. He was a man. A male , rather.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “If you’re hiding some kind of magic stick, it’s definitely not that, I’m sure.” But she couldn’t find anything on him. Nothing except his two large blades, which almost cut her, and his blaster that she’d been carrying.

“Fuck.” Her voice caught as her hand brushed his chest again. Was his breathing more shallow?

“No, no, no.” She leaned down, pressing her ear to his chest. The heartbeat she found was thready and weak. “Don’t you dare die.”

But he was still burning up.

She needed to help him.

Head tilting, she looked over her shoulder into the darkness. There was still that sound of dripping water off in the distance. Shit.

Trembling, she reached for the alien’s sword. It was heavier than it had looked when he’d been wielding it just moments before. Gripping the hilt in her hand, she released a shuddering breath.

“Alright.” She shifted from his side while remaining on her knees. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” She had to force steel into her voice, even as it wavered. Because what she was about to do went against all the instructions her inner Constance was screaming. “You’re going to keep breathing. That’s your only job right now. Just keep breathing, and I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

Fuck. She was really going to do this.

Crawling on all fours, she used one hand to map the way before her. It was slow going. The soft clang of the sword in her palm every time it hit the stone seeming to crack the silence like an alarm. The tunnel—she was almost certain it was a tunnel now—seemed to stretch endlessly. But that sound of dripping water was getting louder.

God, please let it be water. Clean water.

When the air moved slightly to her right, Constance paused. Tongue like a ball in her throat, she stretched her arm right. There was an intersection here, and the tunnel curved slightly. Ahead, the air movement grew stronger. Somewhere around that bend, there had to be an exit. Or at least another tunnel. Something that might lead them to safety, or help, or…

She’d rather not think about it. For now, she’d think about the most immediate catastrophe—the alien bleeding to death somewhere in the tunnel behind her.

Off to her left was the pitter-patter of water she’d heard. She headed that way.

Making a note of the turn, she moved as quickly as she dared. It took several minutes, her breath sounding like echoes as she moved quietly. She could hear the water more loudly now, but it felt like it was taking forever to get there.

Feel. Move. Crawl. Focus on the sound. Not on the fact you can’t see a thing. Not on the fact you have no idea where you are.

She could hear the pitter-patter louder now, as if it was right in front of her. But when she stretched her hand there, she came upon nothing.

But it had to be here. Where was it?

Crawling forward, her palms almost slipped against the wet stone. The water! Blindingly feeling in the dark, she followed the moisture, her palms moving over the stone until she was following the water up the wall. There, the drops began to hit her skin.

She could almost rejoice. She’d done it! She’d found it! But now for the test.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she took a tentative taste, bracing for the worst. If this was some kind of sewage, she was prepared to cut her tongue out—

But it was water. Clean water. At least, it tasted that way. She’d just have to trust she’d found a busted pipe in what she was realizing must be the city’s underground. These tunnels must stretch wide and far. Somehow, the teal rebel had transported them to this location, but it was only a matter of time before the gator-guards thought to look for them here. Until then, they had to get teal guy better and find a way off this planet.

Tucking the hilt of his sword under her arm, she washed her hands before cupping them underneath the leak. It wasn’t effective, but it was the best she could do. When her hands were full, she turned around and counted her steps back.

It took much longer to find the alien again. At one moment, she wondered if she’d lost him, took a turn she didn’t realize, but when her shoes hit against his boots and shock almost made her lose the water she’d so carefully carried, she released a breath of relief instead.

Falling to her knees, she crawled over the alien, finding his lips with the back of her hand. They wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t opening his mouth.

Shit.

The water trembled in her cupped palms, precious drops already escaping between her fingers. She couldn’t waste a single moment, but sh e also couldn’t lose what little she’d gathered. She needed him to open his mouth, and she needed him to swallow.

Leaning closer, she tried to gauge his position by touch alone. She could barely make out his features in the dark, but she thought his face was turned slightly to the side based on where his breaths hit her cheek.

His breathing had grown more labored in her absence; each inhale a painful rasp that made her wince. She needed to get the water into him, and she only had one idea.

“Don’t you dare read anything into this.” She didn’t know why she even bothered speaking. She doubted he could hear her. “This is purely survival. Like in those wilderness shows where they have to…never mind. Just don’t die on me.”

Carefully, so carefully, she lowered her face until her lips found his. They were warm, just like the rest of him, and barely parted. The sensation made her pause. Made her almost change her mind. But she had no other choice.

Using the gentlest pressure she could manage, she pushed against his lips with her own, trying to create enough of an opening.

His lips remained stubbornly closed.

“Come on.” It was a plea. “Work with me here. You need water. You need to heal. You need to live , you stupid, brave fool.”

She tried again, this time using her teeth to catch his upper lips and pulling ever so slightly. A tremble went through her that she ignored. He tasted exactly like he looked. Like mint in chocolate. An inappropriate thought for one of the most inappropriate things she’d ever done. Pressing her eyes closed, she worked her lips against his, nudging, teasing until finally—there—the smallest gap. It would have to be enough.

Moving with painful slowness, she positioned her hands above the opening she’d created and let the water trickle down, drop by precious drop. Most had been lost on the journey back. Only a few drops made it into his mouth.

There was a weak cough, then the blessed sound of swallowing .

“That’s it,” she whispered, relief making her voice shake. “Just like that. Stay with me, Mint Man. Stay with me.”

Gripping his sword once more, she turned to face the darkness once again. The water was working, and that meant she needed more.

He was still fighting. Still holding on.

And as long as he was fighting, so would she.