Akur (Restitution #3)

Constance

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Constance

The stubborn alien was still refusing help. He remained in the corner, glaring at her. And it might be the light, but she swore that red tinge from that fin at the back of his neck was spreading across his skin.

He was in heat. She’d heard the Tasqal say it and even though she didn’t trust the fiend, every second that passed she believed what he’d said was true. And Akur seemed intent on not telling her about it. He didn’t want her to help.

And…

And he’d kissed her.

She watched him now through the corner of her eye as she made use of the medical supplies the Tasqal had left. Cleaning and bandaging the wound on her shoulder, she’d taken the time to clean and put ointment on the other scratches and scrapes along her sides as well.

There was running water from a small spout in the corner and she made use of it, too. Washing her face. Her hands. Cleaning the blood, grime and what else from her skin. When she finished, she watche d as Akur silently did the same. The heaviness of his silence weighing between them.

Fine. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then that was fine.

Her movements were slow. Maybe it was the biting cold in this room or just the tiredness. She was so very tired. Weary. She needed rest. But she wasn’t going to close her eyes. Adjusting herself on the stool by the table, she checked for any other wounds she might have missed, ever aware of the Shum’ai across the room. His last few words echoed in her head, despite that he remained silent.

Your species holds the key to their survival .

Those words; they meant more than he knew. Felt like they were important in some other way than just a grim proclamation or her role in this intergalactic war.

When she picked up one of the little vials of medicine the Tasqal had left and brought it close to her face, she heard the alien shift. She could see him sit up straighter in her peripheral vision.

An idea occurred, one she acted on immediately, pretending that the little vial slipped from her hand and she caught it before it hit the table. The way he jerked confirmed her suspicions. The vials, whatever was in them, he wanted them.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” She said, choosing to stare at the vial as she held it up to the light and turned it over.

“Fine.” His voice was so rough now, as if he was experiencing intense pain or torment.

She smiled. “That’s probably for the best, then. We should throw these away. Who knows what that Tasqal put in them.” She tapped her fingers on the table before gathering the vials. There were three.

“No!” He’d eased off the wall now, golden eyes wide. “Give them to me.”

She finally looked at him. “You want them? I thought you were fine.”

He bared his teeth at her, and her lips twisted into a smile. “I need them.”

She set the vials down one by one on the table, watching the conten ts swirl in the light. “Okay.” She shrugged. “Come get them then.”

Her gaze pierced his, watching as he hesitated. He looked like he was in so much pain he couldn’t move, but she doubted it was as simple as that. Doubted that was the reason he’d planted himself across the room and hadn’t moved since he’d pressed her into the floor and kissed her in a way she wished she could forget. In a way no man had ever kissed her before.

“Throw them to me.”

She blinked at him, feigning incompetence. “Me? No way. I have horrible aim. If you really want them, just come and get them rather than risk me throwing them into the wall.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he huffed out a breath.

Yes, she was right. That red tinge was even under the skin at his shoulders.

“I can bring them to you.” She began easing off the stool.

“No!”

Ah, so there it was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get them. His problem wasn’t his wounds. His problem was her .

He didn’t want to be close to her.

Why.

She eased back on the stool, studying him. His injuries were healing. She could see that like some slow motion playback. Every time she looked at him, he looked better.

And yet he winced with each little movement he made.

His eyes locked onto the vials again, and she could see the internal struggle playing across his features. The way his digits flexed against the stone, how his chest rose and fell with carefully measured breaths.

“You’re afraid,” she breathed. “Not of me, but of yourself.” When he didn’t respond, only stared into her soul, she pressed on. “Whatever is happening to you, these help control it, don’t they?”

A low growl rumbled from his chest. “You are trying to therapy me, human. Stop. You understand nothing.”

“Then help me understand.” She rolled one vial between her finger s, watching his gaze track the movement. “Because right now, you’re acting like I’m some kind of threat, when we both know that makes no sense. You’ve saved my life multiple times now. Saved my life in those tunnels. We fought off those creatures together. But suddenly you can’t even come within ten feet of me?”

“The Tasqal,” he ground out, “is playing games. Trying to—” He cut himself off with another growl, pressing back harder against the wall.

She set the vial down carefully. “Maybe he is. But right now, you’re suffering. And these?” She gestured to the vials. “These could help you. Couldn’t they.”

His growl cut her off, deeper this time, more primal. “You do not understand what those vials truly mean. What accepting them would mean.”

She studied him, noting how his claws scraped against the stone wall, how his breathing had grown more labored. How he refused to look at her directly.

“Then explain it to me,” she whispered. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re in pain. And I have something that could help. Isn’t that simple?”

“Nothing about this is simple.” His voice was strained. “I cannot accept—”

She leaned forward on the stool. “You cannot accept it because you’re suspicious it might be poison…or because you’d be accepting something from the enemy.”

His golden eyes flashed. “Stop trying to understand. Stop trying to help. You cannot help.”

“Why not?” She stood slowly, and he pressed himself harder against the wall. “Because you don’t trust me? After everything we’ve been through?” It almost hurt, his rejection. No. It did hurt, and she didn’t understand why. “Because I’m human ?”

She felt his heat even before she saw him move. Even before she was whisked off her feet and her back was pressed into the wall on the other side of the room. Akur moved like something unreal. Just a blur of heat and muscle, and suddenly he was pressing her into the wall. Her breath stopped in her lungs. She was suspended off her feet, just his fist around her neck and another hot, so very hot, hand supporting her up underneath her rump.

Every breath brought in the scent of him, like spices filling her airway.

“Akur.” She swallowed hard. It wasn’t a plea. Even in this position of his complete dominance over her, she wasn’t afraid. She was…shit…fear was definitely not present here.

“Akur,” she repeated his name, searching his golden pits as they bored into hers.

His heat was all-encompassing. Chasing away the frigidity of the room like a blast furnace, leaving her flushed and breathless.

“You cannot help,” he snarled, lips mere centimeters away from hers. “This isn’t something you can fix.”

“I know you’re in heat.”

The air seemed to still.

“I know it’s why you’re acting like this.” She searched his gaze. “Is it dangerous?”

He laughed, harsh and hollow, his breath brushing against her lips. “Yes. But not to me.”

Dangerous to her. She wasn’t a fool. The unsaid was obvious.

“It doesn’t matter,” he breathed, and for a moment, as his body pressed against hers, he closed his eyes.

“It does matter.” Her words made his eyes snap back open. “If something’s wrong with you—”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” The words came out as a snarl. “I am what I am. What I’ve always been. A weapon. A warrior. Nothing more.”

“Liar.” She didn’t know him. Hadn’t been around him long enough to. They were strangers, thrown together by circumstance. But logic had long since abandoned ship. Something in his touch, in the intensity of his gaze, resonated deep within her, sparking a recognition that defied reason. It was as if some part of her, some hidden, instinctual part, already knew him, knew the heart of the warrior beneath the alien exterior .

He pushed her harder against the stone, his teeth bared as he tilted her head back to reveal her neck. He dipped his lips there, a breath easing from his mouth as it whispered across her skin.

“You cannot help me…because you are something I must protect. Not something I should harm.” He inhaled deeply before he lifted his head, molten gaze meeting hers. “Because…Constance…you are different.”

She searched his gaze, every breath still pulling him in. “What makes you think you will harm me?”

He stiffened. Didn’t answer for the longest while. The only movement was the sensation of his hand kneading the flesh at her ass. She didn’t even think he was aware he was doing it. And she could focus on nothing else.

“You have no idea what I am capable of.”

As suddenly as he’d come upon her, the hand at her neck disappeared. Akur set her down.

Reaching back, he grabbed the vials, popped the lid off one, and downed the contents in one swoop.

As his chest heaved, those intense eyes meeting hers again, the door mechanism clicked.

They were no longer alone.