Page 100 of Akur

“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—likehome.

“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 you 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.

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