Constance

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Constance

She stepped from behind Akur at the same moment that he swayed. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to support him. His skin burned against hers. “Who was that? Could you see them?”

“You don’t want to know, sweet thing.”

Her eyes fluttered at the term of endearment. “Lean on me,” she whispered. “I won’t tell anyone you needed help from a human.”

He tensed before grunting a laugh. “I get the impression your secret-keeping skills are questionable at best.”

“Hey, I can keep secrets. I’m a therapist, remember?”

“You mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“Well, it’s kind of important to my identity.” She shifted slightly, adjusting to his weight. “Like being a warrior is to yours.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “A warrior would not be here,” he finally said. “Accepting aid from—” He broke off with a growl, his muscles tensing beneath her hands. “This goes against everything I trained to be.”

Before she could respond to that surprisingly vulnerable statement, there was a click and dim lights flickered to life around them. The room was smaller than she’d initially thought, with rough stone walls and what looked like medical items, food, and other things arranged on a table at the center. There was no sign of their mysterious guide.

And the door they’d come through was sealed tight—no handle, no control panel, no visible way to open it from their side.

They were trapped. Again.

Constance looked up at Akur, really seeing him clearly for the first time since the battle began. His injuries were exactly as she’d feared. He looked as if he’d been through the wringer. How was he even speaking, let alone standing? But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—pain, yes, but also something else. Something that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, “at least we’re not dead yet.”

“Yet,” he agreed, but his eyes didn’t leave her face. “You should have kept running.”

“Yeah, well.” She gave him a small smile. “I wasn’t going to leave you; let you die in a swarm of monster mole rats.”

“You should have listened.”

“And you shouldn’t have come.” She frowned at him. “You came alone to take on an entire army by yourself?” She paused, studying him. She couldn’t think of one good reason why he’d done it. “What were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I’m stubborn.”

“Well,” she followed him to the ground as he lowered himself, “so am I.”

“So I’ve noticed.” His lips twitched. “Human.”

“Warrior,” she countered, and felt him chuckle despite his injuries.

There was a sound at the door that made them both stiffen. A narrow panel opened, and she found herself looking into impossibly dark eyes.

Dark eyes that haunted her nightmares. Eyes she’d seen in holo-images of the beings that had destroyed everything . It felt like her blood stopped running as she went rigid. It was a High Tasqal. The architect of all this death and destruction was right here.

Her heart gave a big, frightened wallop as she lifted the blaster in both her hands. Those dark eyes didn’t even flinch.

“Akur!”

“At ease, human,” the Tasqal said. Even her breath stilled. That voice… It was the same voice as the mysterious stranger who had been helping them. Her heart gave another thud. The being that assisted them had been a High Tasqal?!

“Akur?” A question now, her voice wavering as she kept the blaster aimed at the door. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong. That this was some trick of the light, some misunderstanding. But his silence told her everything.

The piece of shit that had started this was pretending to help them?! Playing some sick game while they stumbled through the dark? Her stomach rolled as puzzle pieces clicked into place: the mysterious rescues, the convenient escapes, the way they’d found just the right tunnel…

They hadn’t been rescued. They’d been herded. Like cattle. Sheep.

The room suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in. Her breath came in quick gasps as she looked frantically around the sealed chamber. No exits. No escape routes. They’d walked right into the heart of the enemy’s lair, following their tormentor straight to the slaughterhouse.

Now she understood Akur’s initial rage. His distrust. The way he’d nearly attacked at just the sound of that voice. He’d known. He’d recognized what they were dealing with. And he’d had to swallow his hatred just to keep them alive.

“The guards will not check here,” the Tasqal continued.

She couldn’t believe it. Glancing down at Akur, she noticed his brows were drawn tight, and that he was staring down at the ground between his feet. One fist clenched and unclenched over the hilt of his sw ord. This was killing him—having to sit here, wounded, while their enemy stood before them.

Her finger tightened on the trigger. The logical part of her brain knew the blaster wouldn’t do much damage—there was just a small slit in the door, and her aim wasn’t that good. But she wanted to wipe that calm certainty from the Tasqal’s voice. Wanted to make it feel just a fraction of the pain it had caused.

Her hands shook with the effort of restraining herself. “You…” The word came out as barely more than a whisper. “You did this. All of it. The attacks, the base. You took me from my planet .” Her voice broke as faces flashed through her mind: the family she’d left on Earth; the humans she’d met in this nightmare. All the rebels. And the last images she saw of the Restitution’s base.

Battered. Bloodied. Burnt.

Destroyed.

“ You did this .” Her hands shook. “And now you’re what? Playing games? Pretending to help while you lead us deeper into your trap?” Each word felt like it was being torn from her chest, years of carefully maintained professional distance crumbling in the face of this creature’s calm regard.

The Tasqal didn’t even blink. “I have a proposition.”

Its voice was eerily gentle, almost kind, and that made it so much worse. These were the beings that had slaughtered entire civilizations, and now one was offering help like some benevolent savior. She felt sick.

“I cannot guarantee your safety, Shum’ai. We have no need for you. But the human…the human has a better chance.” Those dark eyes shifted from Akur to her, and she felt rather than heard Akur growl again.

“Leave the human here and come with me.”

A laugh barked from Akur’s chest. “Try again.”

“It is not a trick,” the Tasqal said. “On Tasqal honor—”

“Your honor ? What honor do your kin have?” To her surprise, the Tasqal looked away .

“Not much,” it said after a few moments. “There is not much I can do. But I can save you, Shum’ai. Potentially.”

So they were doing this. Bargaining with the enemy. There was no other choice. At any given moment, they had to make decisions based on the current circumstances—and the circumstances now involved making a deal with the literal devil.

“There is only space for one,” the Tasqal continued.

“Space for one?” She kept her blaster trained on the fiend. She’d seen holo-images of the species, but seeing one up close, even if it was just its eyes, was terrifying. “Space for one where ?”

“A shuttle. We are sending it for a supply run. The Shum’ai can sneak on board…if he comes with me.”

“Forget it.” Akur’s deep voice rumbled at her back, and she stretched out her hand to stop him.

“And why can’t I go with him?”

The Tasqal’s dark eyes felt like they were leeching over her skin as it looked at her. Even the dim light didn’t hide that fact.

“The vessel flies on pre-programmed directives. It will collect supplies at a station in the outer reaches,” the Tasqal continued, its focus never leaving her face. “The autopilot docks at Station 459. To reach the internal airlock undetected…” It paused, and she could have sworn there was a slight change in its voice. Weariness. “You need to traverse the external hull. Exposure to the void. A Shum’ai’s biology can withstand the void for the required time. Humans cannot.”

Her breath paused. It was the first real chance of escape since their capture, dangling right in front of them. “Why should we trust you? You’re the reason we’re here.”

The Tasqal didn’t blink. Through the narrow slit in the door, he stared right through her. “I am not my people,” was all he finally said.

Swallowing hard, she turned away from him. The hair along her back stood on end the moment she did. Some sixth sense made her very aware the fiend still had its eyes on her.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus. Her mind raced through the implications. No doubt Akur’s physiology differed from any other being she’d ever encountered. Back on the Restitution’s base, she’d been sure he’d died when the ship took her away. And then again here, he’d dived after her ship in the upper atmosphere and made it out alive.

He could heal quicker than anything she’d ever encountered before.

Her gaze slid to him where he’d propped himself against the table.

The look in his eyes made her pause. Restrained rage. Restrained bloodlust. He looked like a man that could kill. Would kill. Right now.

But, if she was to believe this creature, there might be a way out for him.

It wasn’t her decision. It was his. The Tasqals didn’t want the rebels. They wanted people like her. They wanted humans.

She moved to kneel before him. Setting the blaster down, she took his large hand between both of hers. His skin was still fever-hot against her palms, and she could feel the tension thrumming through him.

“This is your chance,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “If you believe him, you should take it.”

His fingers tightened around hers almost painfully, bloodstained but strong. “No.”

“Listen to me,” she pressed on, leaning closer. “You’re injured. You need treatment. If he’s telling the truth, this might be our only opportunity to get you out of here.”

“ Our ?” His voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. That moment in the tunnel, when he’d suddenly turned on her and she’d become aware of just how dangerous he was, it was here again. And yet, she didn’t want to run away. “You mean my opportunity.”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand, glancing away now. The murderous look in his eyes, even if it wasn’t meant for her, was making her survival instincts rise. “ Your opportunity. Take it. Get to safety. Recover your strength. Don’t throw away this chance because of—” Her throat became tight. “Forget about— ”

The movement was so fast she barely registered it. One moment she was kneeling before him, the next her back hit the cold floor with enough force to drive the air from her lungs. Akur’s hand wrapped around her neck, not quite crushing but inexorable, pinning her beneath him. His face hovered inches from hers, golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“ Forget about you ?” he growled, low and dangerous. “Is that what you were going to say, human?”

She tried to swallow but couldn’t quite manage it with his grip on her throat. “Be reasonable—”

“Reasonable?” His laugh was harsh. “Like you were reasonable in the tunnel when I told you to run? When you disobeyed my order and turned back to help me ? Or reasonable when you crawled on hands and knees through darkness just to bring me water so I could heal?” His fingers flexed against her skin.

“This is different,” she whispered, though her conviction wavered at the raw emotion in his eyes.

“ No .” He leaned closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his body, until his breath ghosted across her lips. “It is exactly the same. You’re trying to sacrifice yourself.”

“I am trying to save you ! These creatures, they’re doing all this just to get us humans. They destroyed an entire base, Akur! They killed everyone! I’m only trying to save you! You don’t have to d—” Tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t have to die, too.”

Ever since she’d been pulled into that ship, she’d hidden away from it all. But this was the truth. All the death. So much death. All those beings she’d walked alongside on that base. Dead. Dead because this species was obsessed with hers.

Nobody else had to die.

“I’m just. Trying. To save you.” A tear ran down, one she couldn’t stop, and with that single tear, it felt like all the rest threatened to fall.

“And who will save you ?” His voice dropped even lower, becoming something intimate and fierce. “Who will stand between you and them once I’m gone? Who will ensure you survive until I can return?” He dropped his sword, and his free hand came up to trace her jaw, the gesture at odds with the steel in his tone. “Or do you think I could live with myself, knowing I abandoned you here?”

What? What was he talking about? Was his sense of duty so strong that he would sacrifice himself for a stranger? It must be. She already knew he was insane. He dove through space to save her. If that’s not insanity, then she didn’t know what was.

“You don’t even know me! You don’t have to care. Just forget about me.”

He pressed her harder into the floor the moment she uttered the words, his entire body pressing into hers, filling her with his heat. “ No .”

“Fuck! You stupid stubborn—”

She was sure he grunted out a laugh.

“I will not let them win. I pledged it. You will leave here alive, even if I have to die to make it happen.”

“Don’t you dare !” She twisted beneath him, anger and fear and grief tangling into something wild in her chest. Her fist connected with his injured side, and she felt him flinch. “Don’t you dare make promises like that!”

She struck again, knowing she was hurting him, hating herself for it even as she couldn’t stop. The pressure of the past days—the deaths, the terror, the guilt—it all came pouring out in a flood she couldn’t contain. Meredith was gone. Probably dead. That silent woman. All the other humans she’d met in this living nightmare.

“You don’t get to die for me!” Another hit, weaker this time, the jolt causing pain to shoot through even her wounds. “I won’t let you! I won’t—”

His hand shot out, catching both her wrists and pinning them above her head. The movement pressed him fully against her, and she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the tremor in his muscles from pain or restraint, or both.

“Stop.” His voice was rough, strained. “You’ll tear my wounds.”

“Good!” She bucked against his hold, trying to break free. “Maybe then you’ll listen to reason and save yourself! ”

“There is no reason to abandon you.” His grip tightened as she struggled. “There is no honor in running while you face death alone.”

“Fuck honor!” She nearly spat the word. “What does honor matter when you’re dead? When everyone is dead?” Her voice cracked. “Just go. Please. Please, just go. It’s me they want. This whole time, it’s just been about us humans.”

“ No .” The word rumbled through his chest and into hers.

“ Why ?” She thrashed against him again, tears flowing freely now. “Why are you so damn stubborn ? Why won’t you—”

His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her words in a kiss that burned like wildfire. There was nothing gentle about it—all heat and desperation and something darker, something that tasted like possession. His hand remained locked around her wrists, but his other slid into her hair, holding her steady as he devoured her protests.

She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until she could barely remember why she’d been fighting him. It was a strange meeting of their mouths, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing but wanted to devour her now that he’d caught a taste. His tongue swept against hers, and she felt the last of her resistance crumbling. She arched into him, no longer trying to push him away but to get closer, closer. This was fire. This was heat. This was life.

When he finally broke away, they were both breathing hard. His golden eyes had gone molten, boring into hers with an intensity that made her shiver.

“I will not go,” he said, voice raw. “I will not leave. Not while you draw breath. Accept it, or we can continue this argument until the stars burn out.” His thumb brushed across her lower lip, still tingling from his kiss. “But know that my answer will not change.”

The Tasqal cleared its throat softly, reminding them of his presence. “The offer stands for only moments longer.”

In a blur of movement, the blaster was in Akur’s hands and a shot burned through the air. The panel in the door slid shut a split second before the energy beam scorched the metal where the Tasqal had been moments before .

Akur snarled, not taking his eyes off her face. “I made a vow on Tonvuhiri. I will not run away.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Stubborn warrior.”

“Foolish human.” His grip gentled, becoming more caress than restraint.

The panel slid open just long enough for the Tasqal’s dark eyes to meet hers, a silent farewell—or perhaps a threat. Then, with a quiet click, the door sealed shut, the opportunity vanishing with him.

Only then did Akur release her. He rose, took his warmth, and staggered away, stumbling almost as if blind to land on the other side of the room.

Her chest heaved as she watched him go, one hand rising to brush against her lips. The taste of him lingered—heat and desperation. He didn’t owe her a thing, and yet he wasn’t going to leave her. He was going to fight for her, even if it meant his death.

And the realization of his vulnerability, of the sacrifice he was willing to make, pierced through her anger and fear, leaving only a raw ache in its place.

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