Akur (Restitution #3)

Akur

6

Akur

Pain. Everywhere.

Was death not supposed to be peace? It wasn’t. The gods of Tonvuhiri lied.

He tried to groan, but all that happened was a strained sound in his throat.

If he wasn’t dead, then by some miracle, he lived, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. He couldn’t move. Still couldn’t see.

No. Wait. He could see. But darkness surrounded him so thickly, it was as if no light had graced this space in eons.

The human. Where was she?

Kon-stahns. Qrak. They’ve probably taken her already. Left him here thinking he was dead. And he couldn’t even move. The most he could do was ball his claws into fists.

There was cold, uneven stone beneath him. The chill of it seeped into his back, but he welcomed it against his burning skin. Because he was burning up, and that was a problem. One he’d have to deal with later, if he even managed to rise from this.

Some sound in the darkness made him freeze. It was faint, but he hadn ’t spent most of his life in constant survival to think he imagined such a thing. On instinct, his arm flexed, reaching for his blades, but all that happened was his muscles refused to work. His arms remained dead at his sides.

Qrakking crukks. It would have been better if he hadn’t survived this. To die now while aware of everything but unable to move was torture from the devils of the Vuhiri.

The sound came again. Closer this time. Enough that he could hear the constant soft rhythm. There was something in this darkness with him. A Hedgerud? No. They didn’t move so quietly, and why would they need to? If they put him here in this place, they wouldn’t need to creep around.

Again, he tried to reach for his blade, but his arms didn’t move. He was stuck. Vulnerable. A feeling he’d never encountered before, but one he despised immediately.

It was the shape he saw first, barely discernible in the shadows. A figure that became clearer as it came closer. Something, or rather someone, he didn’t expect to see. Her . The female. The human. Kon-stahns was here.

She stepped closer, slowly, carefully, soft words whispering from her lips as she neared. She was counting.

“Three hundred nineteen.” She slowed down even more. “Three hundred twenty.” She was right at his feet now. There, she paused. Stretching one leg in his direction. That single leg seemed to test the air, seemed to search for something, and his gaze moved over her bare skin. Visibility wasn’t great, but he could still see her garments were ripped. Or more like torn. Her bare leg stretched out, still searching. Only stopping when her foot met one of his boots. Then and only then did she release a breath. She kneeled then, and he wondered what the qrak she was doing. All this, this entire situation, was simply unbelievable.

She was here, which meant the Hedgeruds hadn’t taken her away. And if they hadn’t, then where were they? More importantly, how did they get here?

He watched as the human crawled over him, her hands cupped togeth er as she swayed on her knees with the shuffling movements she made to push herself forward. She was carrying something. Water, judging from the droplets that escaped her palms to fall on his chest.

They heated. Felt like they evaporated with the warmth emanating from his being. A warmth that shouldn’t be there. A warmth that—

Qrak. He couldn’t think about that. The human was climbing over him, her thick thighs pressing against his chest now. Sweet pain. It distracted from the searing heat and his throbbing wounds.

A deep breath left the human’s frame as she leaned forward. At first, he thought she was leaning forward so she could see him. Humans didn’t seem to see well in the dark, and this darkness was oppressive. But if she was leaning closer to see him, why did her eyes flutter closed?

Kon-stahns?

But he couldn’t speak.

When her lips met his, he expected her to pull back. He’d seen his comrades with their human mates. Seen them do the mouth-touching. It was never done with anyone else. It was only between mates. Even his brother, Ajos, did not allow his human mate to do this greeting with anyone else. Once they touched mouths, it often resulted in them heading to their private quarters. It was a human mating signal. He was sure of it. And this female…this female was touching her mouth to his.

Surely, it was a mistake. Surely—

When her lips fitted against his upper one, gently nudging his mouth open, the entire universe stopped moving. His nefre pulsed, a low thrum against the back of his neck, an awareness that had nothing to do with the pain wracking his frame. The warmth already building within him intensified, pooling low in his gut. Spreading outward like a wildfire.

No.

Not that . Not yet. Not here.

Fighting the heat coursing through him, he tried to ignore what the fe male was doing. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that he wasn’t only dying, that he was coming alive in a process that couldn’t— shouldn’t —be happening. That this heat, the one warming the very air around them, was a sure marker that even if they made it out of this alive, he was well and royally qeffed.

But one problem at a time.

The female must think his teeth clenched for some other reason, because she grunted against his lips.

“Come on.” It was almost like a plea. “There’s not much water left.” She nudged him with those soft lips again. “ Please , big guy.”

She was begging him. Begging him to respond to her mouth mating?

… Well…this was a turn of events even he who was ready for anything could not have expected.

He couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak, his body still locked in the aftermath of the shock-rod and whatever the qrak had happened afterward. But the softness of her lips, the gentle pressure as she moved against him, sparked a response he couldn’t suppress. He unclenched his teeth. Allowed her soft lips to pry open his. Tried to ignore the flood of sensations that threatened to overwhelm him from this unexpected intimacy.

There was a tenderness in her touch, a vulnerability that both intrigued and confused him.

“Good,” she whispered, pulling back slightly, and qrak, didn’t he want to posture at that simple praise.

What was he? Some kind of simple male?

She tasted sweet, and despite the pain going through him, despite that this was not the place to indulge in such things, he wanted more. The fever just underneath his skin made everything too intense, too real. Made him hyperaware of every point of contact between them—her thighs, even the brush of her long filaments against his jaw.

So many sols chasing after that ship. So many sols of hopelessness. The last thing he’d imagined was a human’s lips pressing against his. Maybe he really was dead, and this was all a strange afterlife where nothing made sense .

She pulled back slightly, just enough to whisper something he couldn’t quite catch, before something cool dripped against his lips. Water.

It was like a splash of cold reality.

Water?

Ah, yes.

He was being subjected to forced hydration. He swallowed, the realization that she wasn’t, in fact, ravishing him settling with a dull thud of disappointment.

He might as well go on and die now.

“Stay with me,” she murmured. “Just keep fighting.”

Alright, fine. He wouldn’t die.

He’d growl, but she was still so close, he didn’t want to startle her.

That, and the starving male in him didn’t want her to leave so quickly.

So he lay there as she emptied the water she carried in her hands before her shoulders slumped, and she released a slow breath. Her head tilted as she looked around, eyes wide, and yet it seemed she still couldn’t see a thing. Her throat moved when she finally stopped looking around and turned back to face him. He blinked, expecting her to realize he was staring right back at her, but there was no recognition.

Instead, she shifted from over him, the sweet pressure of her thighs disappearing as her palms moved down his chest instead. Only then did he realize he’d been bandaged. Strips of garments tied around his frame.

This female…she hadn’t just given him water. She’d been caring for him all this time? For how long?

And where the qrak were they?

As her soft hands moved over his chest, her breathing short and labored, he squeezed his eyes tight, focusing on the sounds of those breaths and not the heat rising within him. E’lot had been right. He shouldn’t have left the shuttle wearing just a maintenance suit as protection. He’d trusted his regeneration a little too much. Maybe he’d been laughing in the face of death a little too much, too .

The heat from entry into this world. The heat from the shock rod. And the heat from the moment before they appeared in this place. It was all bad. All completely bad timing. Even dying, his body was taking that heat to mean one thing.

He’d thought that when his brother had gone into the mating frenzy on accident that it had been a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Shum’ai don’t just go into heat at slight temperature changes. That would be stupid. But he’d had three separate intense encounters. Three encounters that might have started a chain of events that he wished didn’t exist.

Because if he was going into heat, they were doomed. Him and the human. And that meant he had to get her out of this place, off this planet, and take down the Tasqals all before that happened.

So when the female eased off him, when her softness disappeared, he kept his eyes closed. Fighting not the pain of his injuries, not the torture, but the heat.

She was gone for long minutes, all while he remained unable to move.

When she returned, he heard her counting again. “Three hundred twenty.”

Smart little fighter. She used the numbers to find him again. To kneel over him once more. And this time, when her lips met his, he kept his eyes closed.

He let her lips tease his.

Qrak. This was going to be the hardest mission he’d ever had to do.