Akur
2 6
Akur
Pain. Endless, crushing pain.
That was his first awareness as consciousness flickered at the edges of his mind. Every breath felt like molten metal in his chest. His body was heavy, unresponsive, as if trapped beneath the weight of an ocean.
“Computer, where are the medical supplies in this thing?”
Kon-stahns?
No. She shouldn’t be here. She should be far away from this place. Safe on a ship, heading away from this nightmare.
Had he failed? Had he failed in the one thing he’d been so hell-bent on doing?
The thought clawed at him, dragging him deeper into the darkness. He couldn’t protect her. He couldn’t even open his qrakking eyes.
But her voice kept pulling him back, a rope thrown into the abyss.
“There must be a medical bay or something here somewhere .”
“THERE IS NO MEDICAL BAY ON THIS SHIP. ”
Who was that? The voice was mechanical. Kind of like the standard artificial voices used on vessels.
But…that couldn’t be. How was he on the ship with Kon-stahns?
“What do you mean?!” Her voice rose. “There has to be something !”
“THIS IS A CARGO VESSEL. BASIC MEDICAL SUPPLIES ARE LOCATED IN STORAGE UNIT 2-B.”
He tried to move, to speak, but his body refused to respond. The darkness kept pulling him under.
Kon-stahns let out a low, exasperated growl, and he could hear her footsteps pacing. Then a pause.
“Unit 2-B. Unit 2-B. Which one is unit 2-B?!?”
“AFT SECTION, PORT SIDE.”
“Okay, port side. Port side.”
Her footsteps faded, leaving him alone with the oppressive silence. He tried to force his body to move again, but it was as if his limbs were submerged in bonding agent. His mind screamed at his muscles to obey, but they didn’t even twitch.
He wanted to open his eyes. Just so he could see her.
Instead, he slipped into the void again.
When consciousness flickered back, it was to the sound of rummaging. Containers being opened, items shuffled and discarded. Her voice was closer now, muttering under her breath.
“None of these things make sense.” There was a sharp clatter as something hit the floor.
“These will have to do,” she muttered, her voice tight but resolute.
Her scent reached him first—warm. Sweet. Her . It grounded him in a way nothing else could.
He felt her presence next. The heat of her body radiated near his side as she knelt beside him. The sensation was faint, muted by the haze of pain, but it was enough to make him want to shift closer. Only he couldn’t .
His body was useless.
“Alright,” she murmured, and he could feel her hands on him now, hesitant at first but growing surer as she worked. “I can do this.”
There was a sharp, tearing sound—fabric being ripped. Her clothes? His mind was too sluggish to process fully.
Oh, Kon-stahns.
It wouldn’t be the first time she ripped her own garments just to save him. Wouldn’t be the first time she worked hard just to keep him living.
“God, Akur.” She muttered. Her hand shuddered as she worked. “I don’t know how you’re still breathing, but I’m glad. I’m so glad.” Her hands trembled again as she began tending to the largest wound on his chest.
Her hands were gentle. He felt a cool cloth on his skin, wiping away the stickiness of blood and grime. The pressure stung, but it was distant, as though the pain belonged to someone else.
“You’re going to be fine,” she whispered, almost as if trying to convince herself. “You’ve been through worse. Right? You can handle this. You always handle this.”
Time blurred, but her voice was a constant in the haze, alternating between muttered curses and soothing reassurances.
“Where’s the antiseptic? Computer?”
“ANTISEPTIC IS LOCATED IN…”
He drifted.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her voice closer now. He felt her fingers brushing against his skin as she worked. “I know this hurts. I’m trying to be careful.”
Her touch was feather-light, but even so, the pain flared, dragging him closer to the surface of awareness. He tried to speak, to tell her it was alright, that he could take it, but his throat felt like sandpaper, and no sound came out .
“Shhh,” she murmured. “Don’t talk. Just…just stay with me, okay? Stay.”
The cloth returned, wiping at another wound. Then the faint tug of bandages being wrapped.
“You’re never doing this again,” she muttered, her voice breaking slightly. “You hear me? You’re never doing this again. Not for me. Not for anyone. It’s about time you realized your life isn’t expendable. That people don’t want to see you dead. That I don’t—”
She stopped herself; took a shaky breath.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll talk about it later. When you’re better.”
At some point, the weight of his trouse disappeared.
He felt the cool air against his skin, the rough tug of fabric being pulled away.
“Sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “I need to get to all of it. I—” She hesitated, and he could hear the faint hitch in her breath. “It’s not like I haven’t seen your nakedness before. This is just…different.”
Her hands worked quickly, efficiently, though he could feel the slight tremor in her touch. She cleaned his wounds, applied bandages, her touch a strange mix of careful efficiency and…something else. Something softer, something that made his life organ beat a little faster despite the pain.
Then, her fingers brushed against his groin, against the sensitive pouch where his shaft was hidden. A jolt of electricity shot through him. Hot enough, he almost gasped. His hips instinctively tilted upwards.
“Oh,” she breathed, the word a soft exhale against his skin. He could feel the heat radiating from her hand, the warmth spreading through his groin, igniting a flicker of desire amidst the pain. He wanted her touch, craved it with a desperation that surprised him. He wanted…he wanted… He wasn’t sure what he wanted, only that he wanted it with her .
“Sorry,” she repeated, voice barely audible. “Didn’t mean to…Just trying to…make sure everything’s…alright.” Her fingers moved away, continuing t heir ministrations, but the memory of her touch lingered, a phantom sensation that made his lifeblood sing. He was acutely aware of her now, of her every movement, her every breath, her every whispered word. She was saving his life, patching him up, piece by piece. And he…he wanted her. With a fierceness, a desperation that both terrified and exhilarated him.
He wanted her. More than he’d allowed himself to admit before this point.
Time stretched on. He drifted in and out, each time waking to the sound of her voice or the gentle press of her hands on his skin.
At one point, he felt her fingers brushing across his jaw.
“You’re doing great,” she whispered. “Just keep fighting, okay? You’re too damn stubborn to give up now.”
Her lips brushed his temple—a fleeting, delicate touch that sent a ripple of warmth through the cold haze.
When he finally opened his eyes, the dim light pierced his pupils like narrow shards.
Where…where were they?
His gaze found the beeping console up ahead, focus shifting over the ship. It was the same one he’d put her on. How he managed to be on the same vessel, he didn’t know. It didn’t make sense.
Turning his head slightly, he found her slumped beside him, her head resting on her folded arms where she slept atop what looked like a soft sleeping cushion she must have found.
She looked exhausted, her hair a tangled mess, dark smudges beneath her eyes. One hand was still resting on his chest, her fingers curled loosely against his skin.
Guilt twisted in his gut. She’d been taking care of him all this time, pouring everything she had into keeping him alive, and he’d done nothing but lie there like dead weight.
“Kon-stahns…” His voice was a cracked whisper, barely audible.
Her head jerked up anyway, eyes unfocused at first, as if waking from a deep sleep. For a moment, she just stared at him, uncomprehending. Then her eyes went wide .
“Akur?” The word came out rough, uncertain. “Akur!” She pushed herself up, swaying slightly as blood rushed to her head. “You’re….” She blinked hard, steadying herself against the wall. “You’re awake!”
She half-stumbled to a flask nearby, nearly dropping it in her haste. When she returned, her smile was trembling, exhausted. “Thank God. I wasn’t sure if…” She trailed off, her throat working as she swallowed hard.
She pressed the flask to his lips, making water trickle in.
“I’m sorry, bright eyes,” he rasped.
A sound cracked in her throat. “Don’t. Don’t you apologize. Just…don’t scare me like that again, okay?”
He managed a faint smile, though it felt like it took all the energy he had.
“I mean it,” she said, her tone firm despite the tremor in her voice. “You’re not allowed to die on me. Not now. Not ever.”
Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin. Then, before he could process what was happening, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
The mouth touching was soft, lingering, filled with something that made his chest ache more than the wounds ever had.
When she pulled back, her eyes glistened with unshed waters.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, bright eyes,” he said again, voice stronger this time.
She gave a watery laugh, shaking her head. But there was no anger in her voice. Only relief. It took everything in him to reach up, claw trembling as he brushed away a lock of her filaments from her face.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
For the first time since the citadel, the crushing weight of pain and exhaustion seemed to lessen. He was alive. They were alive. And somehow, miraculously, they were together.
Kon-stahns sat back, her hand still resting on his jaw. She was looking at him like he would the stars. As if looking at something wonderful. Something mesmerizing. Something beautiful .
He wanted to say something, anything that could convey the depth of his gratitude, the guilt that she’d been the one to tend to him when it should’ve been the other way around. But as her thumb brushed against his lips, silencing him, he realized words might not be enough.
“You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Do you know that? You drive me out of my mind, Akur.”
Her hand drifted down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bandages she’d wrapped around his chest. The touch was delicate, cautious, but it stirred something inside him—a warmth that spread out from her fingertips and settled low in his gut.
He swallowed hard, the dryness in his throat fading as her scent filled the air. Sweet and warm, like her—like home .
“Kon-stahns,” he rasped, catching her wrist. His digits curled around her pulse. It was fast, erratic, matching the rhythm of his own.
Kon-stahns’ eyes widened as she looked at him, her lips parting as though to question him, but the words never came.
He tugged her closer, not with strength—he didn’t have much of that left—but with intent. She shifted, her knees coming to the edge of the makeshift bedding beneath her.
“You should rest,” she whispered, voice faltering even as she leaned in. Her hand pressed lightly against his shoulder as though she was trying to keep him still. “You’re not—”
“I’m not letting you go.” The more she touched him, the stronger he felt.
“Akur…”
His claw slid up, trembling but determined, until his palm rested against her jaw. The barest touch he wasn’t even sure she could feel. “I am here because of you,” he whispered. “You, female of fire, are impossible. You fought for me.” His gaze studied hers. “You…saved me.”
Her lips trembled, and she turned her face slightly into his palm. “Of course, I did. What else was I supposed to do? Leave you there? Let you die?”
“I was prepared to die if it meant you got off that rock alive. ”
Her brows drew together. “And what about me, Akur?”
He didn’t understand her question.
“Do you think I want a world without you in it?” Her throat moved. “Akur, I—. Don’t you realize I—” She stopped herself, her voice cracking. Then she leaned down, her forehead brushing against his as her breath mingled with his own.
“You stubborn fool,” she whispered, but there was something tender in the way she said it.
He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips tugging upward despite the pain that still lingered.
Her lips brushed against his again, tentative at first, as though she were afraid he might break. But when he returned the contact, slow and deliberate, Kon-stahns melted into him. Her hands cradled his face as though it were the only thing anchoring her.
The ache of his injuries was momentarily forgotten as her weight settled against him. She was cautious, careful not to press too hard against the bandages, but he could feel the heat of her through the thin barrier of the fabric she still wore.
Her fingers ran down his jaw, then his neck, tracing his frame as though memorizing him. He reveled in it. Each touch, each point of contact, was like electricity going straight through him.
“You were so cold. Freezing, Akur. But you’re getting warm again,” she murmured against his lips, before she paused. “Your heat…”
He shook his head, his forehead brushing hers. “It’s not the heat.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him, confusion mingling with something else in her gaze. “Then…”
“This has nothing to do with my heat cycle.” The words came out rough. “Qrak…” He hesitated. Wondered if he should say it out loud. “I’ve been fighting this since the tunnels, Kon-stahns. Telling myself it was just instinct, just biology. But lying here, feeling your hands put me back together piece by piece…” One digit traced her cheekbone. “I can’t lie to myself anymore.”
Her breath caught, her eyes searching his.
“Every time you touch me, every time you say my name—it’s not hormones driving this need. It’s you. Just you. The way you fight, the way yo u care, the way you see right through me…” His voice dropped lower. “I need you to be mine, Kon-stahns. Not for a heat cycle. Not for now. For always.”
His breath stilled.
There. He’d said it out loud. This was the part where she rejected him. The part where she made it clear that what happened in those tunnels was a one-off thing. That he was getting ahead of himself. His growing obsession with her like all his other obsessions. Something that would consume him. Something he’d never be rid of.
Because she was in his lifeblood now. In his soul. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him, she was the female he wanted. There was no other.
And yet, even though he was sure it was coming, even though she hadn’t yet responded, his tongue still spilled words as if trying to convince her. As if his rambling thoughts would make her say yes.
“I cannot offer you much. My life is dangerous, my world harsh. I am not…” His claws flexed against her skin. “I am not what most would consider a worthy mate. But if you would have me, everything I am is yours.”
She pressed her fingers against his lips, stopping his words.
“Everything you are?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Your honor? Your strength? Your stubbornness that drives me absolutely mad?” A soft laugh escaped her, watery but real. “Akur, don’t you understand? That’s exactly what I want. I…I want you, Akur. Scars, dangers, harsh world and all. I want your strength, your determination, your…” Her voice caught. “Your way of looking at me like I’m the only being in the universe. Like I’m…”
“Special?” He breathed. “Important?” He’d known she was both of those things, but he hadn’t known she was both those things for him . Not till it had been almost too late.
He tugged her closer, his hands finding her hips despite the tremble in his digits, and she shuddered against him, lips finding his once more. He was never good with words. Action was his sort of thing. “I don’t have much strength left.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “So if you’re going to stop me, do it now. ”
Her answer came as a giggle against his lips. “We can’t do that,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” His claws slipped beneath the fabric of her tunic to rest against her bare skin. “Just…slow.”