Page 55 of Akur

“Akur?” Her voice was softer now, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” The word was more snarl than speech. “We need to move soon. The Hedgeruds won’t suspend their search of these tunnels forever.”

“You’re not fine.” He heard her step closer and had to fight the urge to spin around, to grab her, to— No. Focus. “That medicine’s wearing off, isn’t it? There’s more—”

“Leave it.” He forced himself to breathe slowly, to maintain control. Those metcer cells were useless, and he knew why. He was too far gone already. Never thought he’d fight a war in heat, but he was never one to shy away from a challenge. “We need to plan. The citadel first. Then we can discuss the wastelands.”

“The citadel first?” Her voice held a dangerous edge. “And what exactly is your plan once we get there? Walk in through the front door?”

He turned back to her slowly, fighting to keep his expression neutral despite the fire in his blood. “If we have to.”

“That’s not a plan, Akur. That’s suicide.” She crossed her arms, and he caught the slight tremor in her hands before she hid them. “We barely survived the tunnels. How are we supposed to fight our way through an entire citadel full of guards?”

“We don’t.” He forced himself to focus on the map again, on the intricate pathways marked in a script that made his eyes hurt. Anything to keep from staring at the pale length of her throat, exposed when she tilted her head in challenge. “We find another way in.”

“There is no other way in. That’s why it’s called a citadel.”

His lips twitched despite everything. “You humans have such limited imagination.”

“Oh?” She stepped closer, and he had to lock his muscles to keep from moving. “Please enlighten me about your citadel-infiltrating experience.”

The heat was making it hard to think, but he forced his mind to work. To strategize. To remember all his years fighting. “The Tasqals build everything to impress. To dominate. But they’re dying.” His voiceroughened on the last word, memories of their “friend’s” revelations burning fresh in his mind. “They can’t maintain their grand structures like they used to. So, they let the Hedgeruds do it and those qeffers are mindless drones, numerous but stupid. Expendable.” He spat the last word. “There will be weak points. Abandoned sections. Service tunnels they’ve forgotten about.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because—” He cut himself off, bile rising in his throat. Her hand touched his arm and he jerked away, stumbling slightly as another wave of heat crashed through him. “Because of my citadel-infiltrating experience.”

“Akur—”

“Don’t.” The word was torn from his throat. “Don’t touch me. Not now.”

She withdrew her hand but didn’t step back. “How bad is it? And don’t tell me you’re fine, because we both know that’s a lie.”

He wanted to laugh, but the sound would have been too close to a sob. How could he explain? How could he tell her that his body was betraying him in the worst possible way? That every breath she took, every movement she made, called to something primal in him that he couldn’t control?

“It doesn’t matter,” he ground out. “We need to—”

“No.” She cut him off, voice hard. “Whatever’s happening to you is getting worse. That medicine helped for what, an hour? Less? You can barely stand straight, and we haven’t even started moving yet. So tell me how to help, or I swear by whatever gods you believe in, I will walk out that door and find my own way to the barren lands.”

The threat of her leaving made him freeze. Would she really? His head swam, instincts roaring to protect, to possess, to— No! She was not his. She was not anyone’s. He’d jumped into the void of space to save her and make sure of that fact.

“You wouldn’t make it ten steps,” he snarled, but it was hard to mask this illogical panic with his usual weapon. Anger.

“Try me.”

He’d laugh if her voice didn’t sound so hard. So serious. Looking at herover his shoulder, they stared at each other in the dim light, neither willing to back down. She was so small compared to him, so seemingly fragile, yet she faced him with a courage that made her seem fierce. Or maybe that was just the heat spreading through him like a curse.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” His voice dropped lower. “You want to understand why I can barely think straight? Why every time you come near me, I have to fight not to—” He cut himself off again, digits curling into fists so tight he felt his claws pierce his flesh again.

“Yes.” She didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat. “I want to understand.”

“I’m in heat.” It was such a disgrace. “But you know that already. My body is…preparing. For mating.” To think he’d thought his brother, Ajos, had been careless to let the same thing happen to him. Now he was in the exact situation.

Constance’s eyes widened slightly, but she held her ground. “Like…like animals on Earth?”

A harsh laugh escaped him. “Animal…” He laughed again. “Yes, that is exactly what I am. A beast. This shouldn’t be happening. Not now. Not here.” He began pacing, trying to burn off some of the energy coursing through him. “Shum’ai only experience heat during specific cycles. Every few orbits. It can be triggered by extreme temperature changes, but—”

“The fall,” she breathed. “When you followed my shuttle. It was the entry into the atmosphere…wasn’t it.”

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