Page 95 of Akur

Rolling onto her side, she crawled to the nearest viewport. The dust was already beginning to settle, revealing the scene below like a curtain being drawn back. Dozens of Hedgeruds were pouring into the hangar, their reptilian forms making them look like a riverside of swarming crocodiles. They converged on the fallen Tasqal, some already reaching for medical supplies.

The ship gave another violent lurch as it headed upward. This time, she didn’t fight it. Instead, she let herself fall back against Akur’s chest the way she had so many times before. But there was no warmth there now. No steady rise and fall of breathing. No strong arms to wrap around her.

She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent one last time before it faded forever. Her fingers curled into his chest, holding tight as if she could keep some part of him with her through sheer force of will.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his cold skin. “I’m so sorry.”

The ship’s computer chimed softly. “ENTERING AUTOMATED FLIGHT PATH. CHANGE DESTINATION?”

The words felt like hearing a strange language. She couldn’t react. She just lay there in the cargo hold, clinging to the body of the one she…cared for. She cared for him more than anything. The computer could wait. The mission could wait. The whole damn universe could wait.

For just a little while longer, she just needed to hold him. To remember.

To grieve.

25

Constance

The ship hummed quietly aroundher as she lay motionless against Akur’s chest, feeling the coldness seeping through his skin. Her tears had long since dried, leaving salty tracks on his teal flesh. She couldn’t bring herself to move, to face what came next. Not yet.

“Computer. Status?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

“CURRENT TRAJECTORY MAINTAINING. ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL.”

The emotionless response echoed through the cargo hold. She almost laughed at how absurd it was—systems normal, everything fine — while her world had shattered into pieces.

Her fingers traced absent patterns on his chest, remembering how it used to rise and fall with each breath. “You were so stubborn,” she whispered against his skin. “So determined to protect me.” Her throat felt raw from screaming. From crying. “But you did it, didn’t you? You got me out of there. Just like you promised.”

The ship’s gentle vibration continued beneath them as the endless darkness of space surrounded the ship. She didn’t even know how far they had to go or how long it would take to get there.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Her mind drifted to the other women—Meredith and the silent one. She’d left them behind. The thought made her stomach clench.

“I couldn’t even help them. Couldn’t save anyone. Some hero I turned out to be.” Her voice cracked. “But you…you never stopped trying. Never gave up.”

“You know what’s funny?” she continued softly. “I used to think you were just another one of those rebels back on the Restitution camp. Just another alien that I shouldn’t trust, even if you were helping me. But you weren’t like that at all, were you?”

She shifted slightly, her lips whispering against his cooling skin. The familiar scent of him was already fading. Fresh tears threatened to well up. “I never told you…about when you were in heat. I never…we never talked about what we did…or why I did it.” She swallowed hard, tucking her face more into his neck. “It wasn’t just about surviving. I mean, at first maybe it was, but…” She swallowed hard. “I liked being with you. Liked how you made me feel safe. Protected. Like I mattered.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Guess that makes me pretty pathetic, huh? Falling for the alien warrior who was just doing his duty.”

“But…if you’d claimed me then…told me Ihadto be your mate…I wouldn’t have fought it. Wouldn’t have wanted to.” Her voice dropped even lower, barely audible even to herself. “No one’s ever fought for me like you did. No one’s ever…cared that much.” The admission made a tremor go through her. All those times she’d told herself he was insane, bound by his warrior’s code that made him protect her. Just his sense of duty. She’d been such a fool.

The tears were flowing freely again now. God, she really was pathetic. But she couldn’t help it. “I never got to tell you. Never got to say that I…” She choked on the words, unable to voice them even now. As if speaking them aloud would make this reality permanent. Would cement the fact that he’d never hear them.

She curled closer, trying to share what little warmth she had left with his too-still form. The ship’s dim lighting cast shadows across his features, making the proud warrior look carved from stone. She’d seen him endure so much. No matter what they’d been through, he’d always pushed through. But this was different.

Hours seemed to pass as she lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. She didn’t rise to eat. Didn’t rise to find a place to sleep. She just…couldn’t.

The ship’s computer occasionally announced course corrections or system updates, but she barely heard them. She just remained there. Unmoving. Shivering in the cold but unable to rise.

She spoke to him, words spilling out in broken whispers. Stories she’d never told him. Things she’d always meant to ask. “Remember that first time? When that gator-guard broke into my and Alaina’s room? I was so terrified, and then suddenly you were there.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “This huge alien warrior, fighting like something out of a nightmare. You were ruthless.”

Her fingers absently traced the scars on his chest. “I thought all hope was lost when that tractor beam pulled me away from you. Funny how things work out—here I was, terrified of being taken onto an alien ship, and now…” She swallowed hard. “Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Watching you dive through space toward me, like some crazy guardian angel…that’s when I first started thinking maybe you were different.”

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