Akur (Restitution #3)

Akur

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Akur

The wounds. They were much. And he was healing.

He was healing too quickly.

There was only one reason he allowed himself to get hit and clawed in that tunnel. Only one reason every wound that made him bleed gave him some satisfaction rather than annoyance.

The pain was the only thing keeping his hold on reality.

Pressing the back of his head against the cold stone wall, he remained still. The cold stone felt good. Drew some of the heat away from him, but not nearly enough. His gaze fell on the human on the other side of the room and he pressed his eyes closed.

Shouldn’t look at her or he’d probably find himself across the room once more, demanding more than a pressing together of mouths.

A breath and he tried to ground himself through the waves of heat coursing through his being. But every breath brought her scent to him. She smelled of fear, determination, and something else that made his lifeblood surge .

And this was why the wounds helped. Pain was clarity. Pain was control. But even that anchor was slipping.

He shouldn’t have touched her. Shouldn’t have pressed his mouth to hers in that foreign gesture. But when she’d started striking him, demanding he leave her behind, something inside him had snapped. The need to silence her protests, to make her understand, had overwhelmed his reason.

Now her taste lingered on his tongue, sweet and addictive. Wrong. So wrong. His people didn’t exchange fluids this way. The intimacy of it should have revolted him. Instead, his body hummed with the memory, craving more.

No wonder his brother, Ajos, was so addicted to his human mate. Only a taste of this stubborn little thing in his presence, and it was already all he could think about.

Painfully, his shaft pulsed in its pouch. Qrak. It pulsed so hard it made him tense, his digits digging into the stone floor beneath him. It was one thing to be stranded on a world filled only with one’s enemies. But to simultaneously be going through a heat that shouldn’t be happening was a different kind of torture.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was soft, concerned. “Well, I know you aren’t alright. Maybe there’s…maybe there’s something here that can help you.”

He could almost laugh. The only thing that could help him now was something he was sure she wouldn’t want to give. At least she didn’t understand what was happening. Her ignorance saved him some shame. Even with the Tasqal mentioning it so carelessly, the human still didn’t understand. That he was going into heat, and that when a Shum’ai male experienced such a thing, all focus turned to relieving the ache.

His nefre burned, the usually pale flesh now surely a blazing crimson that would betray his condition to any of his kind. But she was human. She didn’t know. She saw his burning flesh and his shame had surged. But humans knew nothing of his species’ biology, their cycles, their drives. The fact he, a warrior, the male that had come t o save her, was being brought down by something as simple as his cock was laughable.

Of all the times he’d dreamt of taking the Tasqals down, he’d never imagined he’d have to do it like this. Hot and hungry and wanting nothing more than to forget they existed so he could focus on the female in his presence instead.

“There’s medical stuff here.” She was still moving around. He could hear her. Even then, he still refused to open his eyes. “Even though this doesn’t look like a place these things would usually be in.” She hummed in her throat. “I think that Tasqal put them here. I think he prepared for our arrival.” He could hear faint shuffling as she sorted through what she found. “Some gauze…and I think this might be antiseptic…”

“I require nothing,” he managed through clenched teeth. The effort of maintaining control made his head pound. Back in the tunnel, it had been easier. Death was right in front of them at every turn. This sudden lull wasn’t helping. The warmth was everywhere, seeping into his bones, awakening things that should have remained dormant for years yet. Wrong timing. Wrong place. Wrong female.

He heard when she took a step toward him, the sound making him jerk back so violently he nearly lost his balance. “Stay back,” he growled. The concerned look in her eyes only made it worse. His people fought during these times. They didn’t offer comfort. They didn’t show kindness.

“You’re burning up,” she said, and he could see her mind working, trying to make sense of his condition through her limited understanding. “Some kind of fever?”

If only it were that simple. His muscles spasmed, and he had to fight to keep from doubling over. The heat was building, clouding his thoughts, making it harder to remember why he shouldn’t just—no. He would not think like that. He was a warrior, trained since he was a youngling to control his urges, to channel his strength.

But none of that training had prepared him for this.

None of his training had prepared him for her . A female who would fight as hard as he did…and for him . No female had ever shown him such kindness. Ever.

“Leave,” he commanded, but his voice shook. “Go back to your side.”

She didn’t leave. Of course, she didn’t leave . The stubborn female never did what was best for her own safety.

“You saved my life back there,” she whispered. “At least let me try to help you now.”

A laugh tore from his throat. It was harsh. Bitter. The exact sort of sound that should make her run away. She didn’t.

“Help me?” She didn’t know what she was offering. The very thought of her trying to “help” sent another wave of heat through his frame, making his vision blur at the edges. His pouch ached, and he knew if he didn’t get her away from him soon—

“Fine.”

What?

She moved away, and something in his chest cracked. Growling at himself, he turned away from her as she headed back toward the table. Closing his eyes once more, he shut her out.

“Fine.” The word came out rougher than intended. He needed distance. Space. But in this sealed chamber, there was nowhere to go.

“You’re a terrible liar.” More shuffling. She was touching other things there. Things that scum left here for them. He hardly had the energy to consider why . Didn’t want to focus on his greatest shame yet—the fact he was relying on that fiend.

May his ancestors forgive him.

“I do not lie,” he growled, eyes still closed.

“Ah, but you do.” She released a laugh that sounded tired. “I’ve had enough people sitting across from me, lying to my face, some of them not even knowing it.”

He growled, loud enough for her to hear. “Do not therapy me. I am not one of your weak human clients.”

The sounds stopped. She probably paused in her perusal of the items to look his way. He refused to open his eyes.

“There’s nothing weak about seeking therapy. ”

He released a breath, adjusting himself so he was leaning back against the stone again, but he still kept his eyes closed. “I know. I follow a very effective form of therapy.”

She scoffed, and he popped an eye open. He shouldn’t have. There was a smile on her face and even with the dirt smeared across her face and the bits of dust and rock in her hair, the human looked…beautiful.

He slammed his eyes shut again.

“Let me guess. Brooding in the dark while plotting the demise of every Tasqal in existence? Because that’s super healthy.”

“It is. I feel flooded with life when their lifeblood is dripping from my blades.”

She scoffed again, but said nothing else. He popped an eye open once more to find her bringing something that looked like a meal bar close to her nose. She sniffed it and put it down.

“Akur…”

His pouch spasmed at the sound of his name on her lips and he groaned. When she looked over at him, he didn’t bother to hide the severe frown on his brow as he glared at her. The maddening female didn’t even pause.

“What happened back at the base? Why did you come alone?”

He closed his eyes, focusing on steady breaths. “There was no time for a coordinated response. Not many…not many of us were left alive.”

There was a moment of pause and he thought that was the end of it. That she wouldn’t unknowingly torture him with her voice anymore. He wasn’t so lucky.

“Any…” She cleared her throat. “Any humans survived?”

He looked at her now, and the mirth that had graced her features was gone. She wasn’t facing him. Wasn’t even looking his way. She stood there, half clothed in those ripped garments she’d torn just to save him. Her filaments a tangle of chaos on her head. Lifeblood on her arm…

Lifeblood? She was hurt. And he was the pilkra that didn’t even realize. Too caught up in his failings .

“You’re bleeding.”

Her gaze snapped to him. “So are you. I don’t see you complaining.”

“This isn’t a competition, female.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to yourself.”

He pressed his lips together.

“ Were there any other humans .”

He could hear it in her voice. See it in the way she stood. Ah. This was something he knew well. Something he’d had to come to terms with a long time ago. Something that almost killed his brother. Almost took away the one kin he had left in this universe.

Guilt.

The guilt of still breathing when others had to fall.

It was the reason he fought. The only reason he hadn’t given up yet. He survived for a reason. The least he could do was make sure the Tasqals paid the price of the torture that was his existence.

“Yes,” he answered. The female’s throat moved.

“And the rebels?”

“Not many.”

“But surely—”

“They fought. We fought.” The memory of the chaos flooded back. “Many tried. The Tasqal ships appeared from nowhere, using some kind of warp technology we’d never encountered. By the time the alarm sounded…” He clenched his fists against the stone. “Well, you remember. You were awake by then. I found you after V’Alen called me.”

“V’Alen. He’s the…the robot. The cyborg.”

A wry smile stretched his lips. If anything, this conversation was helping distract him a little. He’d humor her some more. “He is much more than that. He is our most powerful weapon. He alone could end this war.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “If that’s the case, why didn’t he fight?”

He released a breath. “If it was so simple, the Tasqals would all be dead. V’Alen is on a different mission now.”

“Finding the other humans? ”

“No. He went after something else. Something possibly more important.”

Her throat moved, and she watched him for a few moments. Enough that he could feel the heated lifeblood moving in his veins. So he kept on talking.

“When the Hedgeruds came, they weren’t interested in fighting. Only extraction. They targeted the human quarters first.”

“Do you know what happened to Meredith?” she whispered. “The other woman who was with me on that ship?”

“I don’t know.” And that uncertainty gnawed at him. “Everything happened too fast. When I realized they had taken you…” He trailed off, unwilling to admit how the thought of her in their hands had driven him to recklessness.

“So you just…what? Jumped in a ship and followed? And then jumped again into the void of space when you saw my shuttle heading to this planet?”

“Essentially.” He shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t make him solely aware of the pressure behind his pouch. “Though ‘jumped’ is perhaps too elegant a term for what actually occurred.”

She made a sound between a laugh and a sob. “You’re insane. You know that, right? Completely insane.”

“So I’ve been told.” His lips twitched despite everything. “Mainly by you.”

“Because it’s true!” He heard her pacing now, energy crackling in her movements. “And what about the Tasqal who brought us here? Why would one of them help us?”

That question had been burning in his mind as well. “There are Tasqals and High Tasqals. They are hierarchical, absolutely loyal to their collective. For one to act independently…” He shook his head, an ache going through his skull that had nothing to do with any wound. “It’s highly suspicious.”

“Unless things aren’t as unified as they appear?” She sounded hopeful. “Maybe there are factions we don’t know about. Internal conflicts. ”

“Possible.” He settled back, closing his eyes. “Hiding in dark holes isn’t exactly their style.” He looked around the room. There were several things that pointed to the fact this hole of a room was hardly, if ever, used. There was dust and dirt. The air itself was stale. “They pretend to be pristine despite being diseased. Grand gestures for all to see. This…”

“Isn’t like them at all,” she finished for him.

“Affirmative, little human.” He winced and saw movement in the corner of his eye as she started toward him. He didn’t mean to bare his teeth in a growl. He did anyway. She stopped and folded her arms, glaring back at him.

“He left supplies.” She was still glaring at him. “He knew we were hurt. Somehow he’d been tracking us.”

He snarled some more. Because she was right.

“He’s smart.” She swallowed hard now and turned away, running her hand along one arm as she nursed the other. “He could be leading others here, too.”

She was right about that as well. But unlike her, he knew more about this scourge than she did. “I have been fighting this war for a long time, human.”

“Kon-stahns.”

“What?”

“Kon-stahns. Stop calling me ‘human’.”

He stared at her, and before he could stop himself, he scoffed. “You call me ‘mint man’. Whatever that means.”

“I didn’t know your name. But I know it now and you know mine. If we’re going to die together, we should at least call each other by name. It’s the least respect we can give each other.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He hated that she was right. As a matter of fact, he was starting to hate everything surrounding her. It was making him ache. And he didn’t ache. Stupid qrakking heat.

“Kon-stahns.” He hated how good her name sounded. “The Tasqal don’t…” He had to pause, gathering his thoughts through the haze. “They don’t consider comfort. Specimens are kept in stasis or secured for immediate…study. This…” he gestured at their surroundings, “this shows c onsideration for basic needs.” His gaze met hers. “He means to keep us here.”

She stopped rubbing her arm. “Why? The gator-guards were following us. He could have simply let them take us.”

Another spasm rocked through him, and he dug his digits deeper into the stone. “Could still be a trap. More elaborate than their usual methods, but—”

“But what would be the point?” She turned to face him, and he could see the analyst in her taking over, piecing together the puzzle. When he didn’t answer, she pressed on. “He’s hiding us. Not just from the other Tasqals, but from the gator-guards, too. And he’s provided everything we’d need to…” her voice faltered slightly, “to survive for a while. Including medical supplies that seem specifically chosen for your condition.”

“What do you mean?” His gaze shifted to the items on the table, watching as she picked up some things.

“I’m wounded, but not horribly,” she glanced over at him, “thanks to you. I’m sure half of this isn’t for me. There’s gauze and some tubes of stuff.” She lifted a few and one caught his eye. Made him freeze.

Metcer cells.

The realization hit him through the haze of heat. The Tasqal had left metcer cells? Where did that fiend even get them from? Those cells were the only thing that could tame his heat. Bring him back to his former self without the worry of his cock extruding and demanding sating. Why? Why would a Tasqal do that?

Why not leave him weak and tormented? It would be easier to take the human away then.

“I mean, what are these things?” She picked up some more vials, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“You cannot therapy this, female—” She glared at him. “Kon-stahns.” Qrak. “The Tasqals cannot be read. They are unpredictable. The only thing one can predict with those scum …” He stared back at her now. “Is their obsession with your kind.”

Silence descended between them .

“They want you. More than they’ve wanted anything else. I can only guess why.”

Her throat moved again. “Why? Why do you think…”

He studied her for a few moments. She really didn’t know? He supposed she wouldn’t. Her world was far away from this part of the galaxy. No one in the Restitution understood how the Tasqals even found her planet. And she’d been locked in stasis for much of the war. She didn’t know how the Tasqals fought to retrieve the first five humans…or how many more they killed.

“Because,” he finally said, not quite sure if he should speak the words so clearly. If he should let her know. Not sure how she would take it. “Your species holds the key to their survival.”