Akur (Restitution #3)

Akur

2 8

Akur

Kon-stahns lay draped over him, her breathing soft and steady against his chest. For the first time since they met, he allowed himself to feel the weight of her—not just her physical presence, but the meaning behind it.

She was exhausted, her body limp and utterly spent. He could feel the subtle tremors in her muscles from their earlier union, the way her hands had gripped him, the way she had clung to him as if he was the only thing tethering her to this world. And now, she slept—deep and unbroken, the kind of sleep that could only come after days of relentless vigilance and fear.

She’d been afraid. But oh so very brave.

Glancing around the ship, his gaze narrowed as he took in their surroundings. The dim light from the console flickered, casting eerie shadows across the bulkheads. The air smelled faintly of lifeblood, metal, and antiseptic—a reminder of the state he’d been in when she’d fought to save him.

Shifting slightly, he tested his limbs. Pain flared in his chest, the bandages tight against his ribs, but it was manageable now. Slowly, carefu lly, he slid his arms around her, lifting her from his chest. His muscles protested, but he ignored the strain. Kon-stahns murmured something unintelligible, her head lolling against his shoulder as he carried her to the sleeping cushion she’d fashioned for herself.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, voice rough but low. “Sleep, bright eyes.”

She didn’t stir. For a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave her side. His life organ thumped hard as he watched her, concern growing in his gut. Her body was so completely relaxed that it unnerved him. She had been running on nothing but adrenaline, her will to keep him alive carrying her far beyond her limits. Now, she had nothing left, and it showed in the way her body had just…stopped. Almost like she’d gone into some kind of hibernation. It showed too in the pallor of her skin, the way her breathing hitched faintly even in sleep.

Frowning, he leaned closer, rubbing his nose into her throat.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Sweet, soft things like you don’t deserve an existence like this.”

Her mane was a tangled mess, strands clinging to her damp forehead. There were minor cuts on her arms, bruises along her wrists, the bloody bandages on her shoulder. Guilt twisted in his gut like a blade.

The old Akur would have called this a failure.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. No. That life was gone. The male he had been—the weapon, the killer—he had no place here. Kon-stahns had saved him, not just from death, but from himself.

If Kon-stahns hadn’t been there…if she hadn’t saved him…he’d have been completely blinded by nothing but bloodlust.

And that wasn’t the way to end this war.

Rising on unsteady legs, he began searching the small vessel. His steps were silent, instincts taking over, but the ship was quiet, the hum of its engines the only sound. He checked the trajectory on the console, sharp eyes scanning the navigation display.

They were on course, heading toward a neutral zone—one of the few pl aces where they might find refuge. Relief washed over him, but it was fleeting. Neutral zone or not, the Tasqals weren’t going to simply let Kon-stahns go. They wouldn’t stop till they had what they wanted.

And what they wanted was her.

This wasn’t over yet.

Turning his attention back to the ship’s interior, he began searching for supplies. They were sparse—medical kits, water flasks, and a few ration packs stored in a compartment near the cockpit. He grabbed a flask, his gaze darting back to Kon-stahns. She hadn’t moved.

He crouched beside her again. Dipping a strip of cloth into the water, he began cleaning her wounds. She didn’t stir, not even when he pressed the damp cloth against the cut on her temple or the one on her shoulder.

“You’ve done enough,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “It’s my turn now.”

Her lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping her, and he froze. But she remained asleep. Slowly, he resumed his work, his hands steady despite the tremor of exhaustion in his limbs.

She looked so small, so fragile, but he knew better. She was the strongest being he’d ever encountered. Stronger than him, in many ways.

This wasn’t weakness—to care so deeply, to let some other being become a part of him. It was strength. A different kind of strength. The strength to fight for something more than revenge or survival.

Easing up from where he crouched watching her, his gaze shifted to the viewscreen. He didn’t know why he stared at the void. Wasn’t sure what had twigged his awareness.

Standing now, his brow tightened.

This was just a small cargo ship. Old. Worn. Without the usual instruments of more modern vessels. All he had was the path toward Hudo III. One the ally Tasqal had plotted and set the vessel on. But something was…different.

His nefre twitched as he moved over to the controls, peering throug h the viewscreen at the void beyond. There was no way to check exactly what had changed. All he had to rely on was his instincts. Instincts that had kept him alive for so long and would keep her alive, too.

The sharp chirp of an incoming transmission shattered the silence. Akur’s head snapped up, muscles tensing as the console’s warning light pulsed an angry red. A message.

Heavily encrypted, but with a signature that was unmistakable.

The Restitution.

But that was impossible. He and Constance were essentially off the grid. No one knew where they were. No one knew they were even alive.

Unless…

His fingers flew across the controls, decoding protocols on a vessel not meant to receive such a message. It took forever, each click like an eternity as the message decrypted. When the text finally resolved, his blood ran cold.

TASQAL PURSUIT VESSELS DETECTED. THREE WARSHIPS, HEADING 2.7.4. ENTERING YOUR SECTOR. GET OUT. NOW.

Frowning at the message, he stared at it.

Below the warning were coordinates, a location deep in the dark reaches—completely in the opposite direction to where they were heading now.

Was this some kind of trick?

No. How would the Tasqals know the Restitution’s signature?

He stared at the message longer, uncertainty making him pause.

After encountering that rogue Tasqal, something he’d have thought impossible if he hadn’t been there in the flesh, he wasn’t so sure what to believe anymore.

Apparently, everything was possible.

Glancing over his shoulder, his gaze settled on the female still resting on the sleeping cushion. Yes. Everything was possible.

For even he had a mate.

Pulling up the ship’s scanners proved useless. The equipment wasn ’t enough for long-range detection. The Tasqals could be right on top of them and they wouldn’t know until—

The ship shuddered, lights blinking in and out.

Oh, qrak.

His digits scraped against the console as he braced himself. A low, ominous hum coursed through the ship—a sound that hadn’t been there before.

Behind him, Kon-stahns bolted upright, her eyes wild, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“What—” she started, voice hoarse.

“Stay down!” He didn’t mean to snarl, but his instincts were screaming, his nefre twitching uncontrollably. His fingers flew over the controls, trying to stabilize the ship.

“What’s happening?” she demanded, her voice stronger now. Closer, too, as if she’d risen.

“Pursuit vessels,” he muttered. “Tasqal warships. They’re here.”

“Oh, shit.” She was by his side now, peering out the viewscreen, wild eyes shifting but seeing nothing—just like he couldn’t see them but knew they were there. “How did they find us?”

“Not sure. Maybe they were tracking this vessel all along.” The ship bucked again, a low boom resonating through the hull. His gaze flicked to the scanner, narrowing.

“That…what was that? That wasn’t a hit, was it?” Kon-stahns’ digits clenched into fists.

“Proximity charges.” His brow tightened. “They’re trying to slow us down.”

“To catch us,” Kon-stahns whispered. Her gaze skipped to the readouts on the console nearby her. “They’re not firing because they don’t want to blow us out into space. They want us alive.”

He grunted, shook his head. “No, bright eyes. They want you alive. It’s always been you. I’ll die before—”

Her jaw tightened. “Not an option. And they’re not getting me either.”

Grunting, his lips shifted into a grin. “Right. You’re mine.”

Their gazes locked as her cheeks changed color, almost going red like w hen he was in heat and his nefre burned with the fire of a thousand suns.

“I’m not letting them take you.”

Gaze not shifting from his, she jerked her chin to her chest in silent affirmation.

This vessel wasn’t built for combat or speed—it was a cargo ship, stripped down and barely functional. The shields were minimal, the weapons nonexistent or completely drained. They were as vulnerable as hatchlings.

“Can we jump?” she asked.

“No such luck, bright eyes. This ship isn’t made for that.”

“Fuck.” She ran a hand through her brown filaments. “We have to lose them somehow.”

As another pulse hit the ship, his jaw clenched. “There is a way.”

“Do it.”

He grunted a laugh in his throat. “You do not know—”

“I trust you.”

Something swelled in his throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her say that, and something told him it wouldn’t be the last.

“Buckle in, bright eyes. We’re not heading to the neutral zone anymore,” he said, pulling up the coordinates from the encrypted message. “We’re taking a detour.”

She didn’t even pause. Dropping into the seat beside him, the restraints pulled themselves across her at the same moment that one of the Tasqal ships finally came into view. His entire frame tingled as Kon-stahns reached for him, gripping his arm almost on instinct.

The Tasqal ships were beasts. Black. Sleek. A symbol of their wealth, power, and status.

“Shit, Akur, take that detour.”

“CHANGING DESTINATION,” the ship communicated. “MANUAL CONTROLS ENGAGED.”

“Manual?” Kon-stahns’ gaze slid to him.

“The only way.” His gaze shifted to the viewscreen. “The only way for us to get through that.”

He could tell the moment she noticed what they were swerving toward . The moment it became clear their chances of survival had once again dimmed.

“Um…Akur…”

Before them was a massive expanse of wreckage, the blurred forms of dead vessels and tiny parts becoming clearer the closer they went.

“This detour…” Kon-stahns gripped his arm tighter.

“It came in a comm. I don’t know who sent it…But it’s the only chance we have. If we stay on this course, they’ll catch us in clicks. We have to trust it.”

Kon-stahns jerked her chin to her chest, squeezing his arm tighter, her warmth flooding through him like a salve. “Do it. I trust you. They’ll have to slow down to follow us. We can use the debris for cover.”

“It’s a risk,” he said, not bothering to hide the warning in his tone. But he should already know this female was as insane as he was. After all, she’d accepted him inside her not once, but twice. She’d even accepted his seed in her mouth. She was his, and maybe that insanity was what bound them.

“Everything’s a risk,” she shot back, her eyes blazing as she met his gaze. “But if we stay out here, we’re dead.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he gave a sharp nod, his claws moving to adjust their course.

“Hold on,” he said.

The ship banked sharply, diving toward the sprawling field of twisted metal and shattered shipwrecks. The proximity alarms screamed in protest as the debris loomed closer, jagged fragments spinning in the void.

Kon-stahns gripped his arm tighter; so tight he could feel her life-organ pounding through her veins. He could almost feel her stomach sink at the sight of the Tasqal ships closing in. Their sleek, predatory forms moved with terrifying precision, their engines flaring as they adjusted their trajectory to follow.

“Akur, they’re not slowing down.”

“They don’t need to,” he growled. “They’re faster, stronger. Better shield s. They’ll tear through the debris like it’s nothing.”

“Then—” Her wide eyes flew to him. “Why the fuck are we doing this?!”

His gaze slipped over her. Over her thin brows, the way her pert little nose tilted to the air, the way her lips were full… “Because I’m going to do something insane.”

She didn’t even flinch. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she faced the debris field before them. Her shoulders set. In that moment, he knew, whatever he decided, she was with him. “What are you thinking?”

He grinned, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Something even you might think is crazy.”

“Try me,” she challenged, her grip tightening on his arm. She sent him a small grin, too.

The sight sent a tingle down his spine. He met her gaze, a spark of shared recklessness passing between them. They were partners in this madness, two rebels against the universe, a warrior and his human taking on an empire.

“Hold on tight, bright eyes,” he said, shifting the controls. “This is going to get…interesting.”

The ship plunged deeper into the debris field, alarms screaming. Jagged fragments spun past the viewscreen, some cutting into the tiny ship’s hull.

“They’re right behind us,” Kon-stahns whispered, eyes locked on the scanner now. But her voice was calm, almost detached, as if she was ‘therapying’ the disaster rather than facing imminent death.

He glanced at the scanner, too, his jaw tightening. The Tasqal ships were closing fast. “I know,” he muttered, directing the small ship as it weaved through the chaos. The same wreckage slowly stripping the ship’s armor was the only thing they could use as a shield. Each near miss, each jarring impact, bathed the small cockpit in red.

“There,” Kon-stahns said, pointing to a hulking derelict. “What’s that? Can we use it?”

He followed her gaze. The derelict ship was massive, a twisted monument to some forgotten disaster, but it offered a sliver of a chance . It was an old Class-4 power station. The kind that used unstable reactor cores to fuel entire colonies.

“Risky,” he said, his voice a low growl, “but it might work. The space is tiny.”

“Like threading a needle. But you can do it. You’re the best space pilot I know.”

He grunted a laugh, warmth flooding through him. “I am the only pilot you know.”

Kon-stahns laughed, the sound so rich it momentarily deleted everything around him. In that single moment, all he could see was her.

“They’re going to fire, Kon-stahns.” He broke the truth. The peace of her laughter was immediately shattered.

“We’ll make it.” Her gaze locked with his.

Her trust in him was indescribable. And she had no idea what it did to him.

“After this…” he said, watching her face as the derelict ship came closer. “After this…when it’s over…will you…will you let me show you my homeworld? Tonvuhiri. When it’s safe. You could meet my…what’s left of my clan…”

He didn’t know why his life organ stopped beating as he waited for her response, even as they flew toward something even more dangerous than any answer that could come from her lips.

Kon-stahns’ gaze flashed to him and she shifted her hand from where she was gripping his arm. As the derelict vessel became so large it was all they could see before them, she leaned over, her lips closing over his.

“Of course,” she whispered. “Of course, I will.”

Moments before their ship was to slip through the jagged hole in the derelict’s side, the scanner screamed. The qrakking Hedgeruds had locked weapons.

“Hold on!” he roared, banking the ship hard as they entered the hole. The first plasma bolt streaked past their starboard side, close enough that the heat sensors wailed. The second struck the derelict exactly where he wanted it to .

The hidden reactor core.

As they flew out the other side, Akur held his breath. For a click, nothing happened, and he wondered whether the core had been stripped. Gods knew how long the ship had been floating in this debris field. Scavengers could have taken every and anything worth a few credits.

But then the readings on the console before them exploded.

Raw energy erupted from the derelict’s spine, a tsunami of radiation and plasma that lit up the void brighter than a star. The Tasqal ships’ superior shields meant nothing against that kind of power. They were too close, too committed to their pursuit.

“Holy shit,” Kon-stahns breathed, gripping his arm tighter.

But they weren’t safe. The blast wave was coming.

He yanked the controls, trying to outrun the destruction they’d unleashed. The little ship groaned, metal shrieking as if it was being torn apart. Warning lights flooded the cockpit. The heat inside spiked.

Something exploded behind them and their ship lurched, spinning. Kon-stahns screamed as she fought to stay in her seat.

“We’ve lost an engine!” His claws flew over the controls, fighting to stabilize them.

The blast wave hit them full force. The entire ship shuddered. For a moment, he thought the hull would crack open like an egg.

“Akur…” Kon-stahns’ voice was tight. “That doesn’t sound good.”

He grunted, still wrestling with the controls. “Ship’s dying around us.”

More alerts screamed for attention. Hull breach. Life support failing. Power fluctuating. The console in front of Kon-stahns sparked and went dark. She jerked back with a curse, smoke curling from the dead panel.

“How long?”

“Two hors. Maybe three.” His jaw clenched as another system failed.

“If we’re lucky.”

A distinct hiss cut through his words. They were losing air. Scramb ling, he sealed off the rear of the little vessel. Two hors? Now they only had one, if the gods decided to spare them.

Pulling back on the controls, the remaining engine struggled as the little vessel clawed its way out of the debris field.

Beside him, Kon-stahns’ chest heaved as she studied the scanner. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide. “Are-are they following us?”

The remaining sensors picked up nothing but scattered debris. “Negative.”

Her chest heaved, breaths puffing from her lips before she collapsed in her seat. “You…you did it.”

His chest heaved as he checked the readouts. “Told you it was insane.”

“Insanely brilliant,” she corrected. But there was something underneath her smile. A fear he could feel, too. “You’re a goddamn genius, Mint Man.”

He could only gaze at her. He had a mate. A human mate. And she was…magnificent. He would get her out of this.

Pulling up the new coordinates, the ship lurched as he turned, the damaged hull groaning. They were still bleeding atmosphere somewhere, and their remaining engine wouldn’t last forever. As Kon-stahns tugged out of the restraints, his arms opened as she climbed into his lap, wrapping her thighs around him.

Maybe it was because she could feel the danger they were in. Maybe it was because she wanted him to keep her safe. It didn’t matter why she sought his touch. Tugging her to his chest, he stared out the viewscreen.

Through willpower alone, he’d make sure she made it.

“That was amazing. You are amazing. You know that?” she whispered, breath tickling his skin.

He forced his voice to stay light, despite the warning lights still flashing around them. “I am amazing. That is a known fact.”

She slapped him playfully. “Cocky.”

He growled. “What’s this about my cock now?”

Kon-stahns laughed. But her chest was still heaving. The threat of what just occurred still pushing adrenaline through her being .

And they weren’t done.

“They’ll come again, you know,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He did know. He was now in constant awareness of that fact. “Hopefully we get there before more arrive.” They had to.

“There?” Kon-stahns lifted her head, gaze searching his. “There where?”

He wished he could answer.

Looking at the coordinates he just punched in, he couldn’t.

Because the truth was, he had no idea.