"Sleep."
"—do that to—"
"Kira."
—yourself?"
He turns to stone beside me and refuses to speak anymore.
I briefly consider poking at him some more, but just the mention of sleep has me yawning.
I can't help myself from reaching up and running my hands along the scarring again. I assume their wings aren’t bullet proof either, if he was able to slice them off with his fucking claws.
Weird.
It makes zero sense why he would've cut them off himself, unless it's ritualistic, but I've got to give it to him.
That takes a brass pussy.
That reminds me. I haven't spied any balls on him, not that I've been looking or anything. He's stark naked but without any sign of genitalia.
I guess other species recognize what human women have always known: keeping all those important bits on the inside is a great fucking idea.
He lets out a long sigh as I continue to run my fingers along the dips and grooves of his mutilated skin.
Since it's clearly soothing for both of us, I just keep going, enjoying the vast variety of textures and the rumbles of appreciation he makes as I stray close to his spines.
The feel of his rough skin and the intermittent evidence of how battle-hardened he is sends a thrill through me, but I'm too tired to resist it or to be shocked by it. Right now, we are just two people who had a really shitty day.
Besides, I like touching him, so I just tell my brain to stop analyzing or freaking out over it.
Soon after, he shifts his giant body so he can return the favor, running one of his large, chameleon-like hands down my back in repetitive, soothing sweeps. Starting at the base of my neck with a gentle squeeze, then with steady pressure down by back, and over my ass before starting again.
I let out a long sigh of contentment on the fifth pass and keep moving my hands, mapping the spines and scars along his side.
As the long minutes tick by, the weight of our journey presses down on me. We can't stay in this cave, not with the genali still out there and a bunch of defenseless women to help. But for now, in this small moment of respite, I allow myself to find a shred of peace in Drasuk's steady presence.
The thrum of the waterfall lulls me into a semi-conscious state where dreams and reality blend together. I see flashes of my squad mates, their faces twisted in pain, their bodies broken. I see the cyborgs, merciless and unyielding. And then, I see Drasuk, standing between me and the darkness, a silent guardian.
His words echo in my mind. 'You are a warrior, Kira.'
Maybe he's right. Maybe there's still a part of me that's capable of taking up that role again. It's not like my body is a limit anymore. Maybe there's still hope.
I take a deep breath, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I allow myself to simply believe in something.
***
Sunlight streams through the gap in the rocks above the waterfall when I wake up, painting dancing patterns across the damp cave walls.
Unlike the previous night, a sense of peace has settled over me, and for once sleep wasn't a battlefield of nightmares. Hell, even before that, I couldn't get any rest.
It feels... wrong. Suspicious even.
With a hesitant groan, I crack open my other eye, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The weight of my combat fatigues feels strangely foreign, a constricting layer against my skin.
Wait. I'm not wearing fatigues.
I shake the sleep from my mind and focus on my body. I had just started to get used to the new way the thick hide on my stomach moves compared to my skin. Now it feels like it's extended to my back, up the back of my neck, and down to my knees.
