Page 99 of Akur

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.Theywere 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.

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