Page 43 of Akur

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 to 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 forher. A female who wouldfight as hard as he did…and forhim. 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 considerwhy. 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.”

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