Primal Bond (Warlords of Vasz #4)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Z anik's gaze narrowed, the weariness giving way to irritation.

Not now. Not another problem!

He stepped forward, moving with predatory grace. His senses heightened, ears straining for any sound out of place. A faint shuffle caught his attention. He spun down a corridor entranceway, just in time to see a flash of movement disappearing around a corner.

"Damn him," Zanik muttered, lunging after the runaway human.

Finn was fast, but Zanik was faster. His powerful strides quickly closed the distance. Within moments, he caught up, his hand clamping down on Finn's shoulder. The boy struggled, twisting and turning with a desperation that only fueled Zanik’s resolve.

"Let go!" Finn’s voice was raw with fear and defiance, his fists beating against Zanik's chest.

Zanik tightened his grip, effortlessly restraining the boy. Finn’s struggles were pointless against his Borraq strength. The boy was like a trapped zytha, all fight and no flight.

"Where did you think you were going?" Zanik's voice was a mix of frustration and incredulity.

Finn glared up at him, brown eyes blazing with a fire that took Zanik by surprise. "Anywhere but here!"

"Do you even know where ‘here’ is?" Zanik’s patience was thinning, but a spark of admiration flickered within him. The boy had guts, he had to admit. "We're moving through space."

"I don't care," Finn spat, his defiance undimmed.

For a moment, Zanik was speechless. "You... don’t care?" he echoed, incredulous.

Finn’s glare didn't waver. "No. I’d rather die than stay here as your pet."

Zanik sighed, his grip loosening slightly. "If you escaped, that would come naturally. You’re in Borraq space, human. There’s nowhere for you to run."

Finn’s jaw clenched, but he didn't respond. His eyes still burned with that fierce, unyielding defiance.

This boy was a problem. A complication Zanik didn’t need right now.

Where in the hell was he supposed to keep a human? Zanik’s gaze swept over the minimal interior of the Ironclad. Every inch of the ship was utilized for function and speed, not comfort. It was a vessel of stealth and combat, not a daycare center for fragile humans.

The central corridor stretched ahead, a maze of metal and shadows. Zanik marched Finn along, his mind churning. He glanced down at Finn, still firmly gripped in his hand.

The human was tiny, even for his species — too thin, too frail.

What did a human need? Food, water, a place to sleep. Whatever range of temperatures would keep that tiny body from freezing, presumably. The basics, at least. Zanik had no intention of playing nursemaid, but he also wasn't a monster. He wouldn't let the boy die from neglect.

A door caught his attention, and he steered Finn towards it. A storage closet, barely more than a broom cupboard. The Ironclad wasn't a luxury craft, but it had spare thermal bedding stashed in there. Finn looked so small, and his skin felt so cool compared to Borraq warmth; Zanik would have to get several blankets, and hope that was enough to keep a human warm.

But as he opened the door, Finn went rigid, his body seizing up.

Zanik frowned, instantly on guard for another escape attempt. But when he turned to look at the boy, he saw genuine fear etched on Finn's face.

"No... please," Finn stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't put me in there."

Zanik's gaze flicked from Finn to the closet and back again. The space was small, but he hadn't intended to...

His thoughts trailed off as understanding dawned. Urlek. That brute must have kept locked Finn up like this. The realization sparked a flare of disgust in Zanik’s chest, hot and bitter.

Zanik took in the terror etched on Finn's face, the real and raw fear that shattered his defiant facade. Though Finn was trying to hide it, the human was shaking under Zanik's grip, his breath hitching in his chest as his wide eyes stared at the small storage closet.

Finn looked smaller somehow than he had before. The blue smudges beneath his expressive eyes spoke of sleepless nights and endless days of fear. His thin frame was rigid, every muscle taut as if ready to bolt at the slightest threat.

Zanik felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation. A part of him, some deeply buried instinct, wanted to protect the fragile. To shield those who needed it, to protect them, to use his strength for good…

But it was a sentiment that had no place in his current life, no place in the harsh reality of his existence. Zanik quickly squashed it down, buried it deep where it couldn't distract him from his duty.

Finn wasn't a comrade, wasn't a friend. He was a human, a prisoner, a payment for a debt.

Zanik needed to remember that. He needed to stay focused, stay in control. He tightened his grip on Finn, grabbing the bedding with one hand and pulling him away from the closet with the other. "Not there," he said gruffly, the words echoing in the narrow corridor.

Without another word, he turned and led Finn away, his mind racing to find a suitable place for the human. Somewhere without anything sensitive kept inside it, somewhere without anything that could be used as a weapon, something with a lock…

There was only one place he could think of on the ship, only one place that might be suitable.

Damn.

Zanik paused before the door to his quarters, his hand hovering over the keypad.

It was a private space, his space.

But it was the only option he had.

He pressed his palm to the reader and pushed the door open, shoving Finn inside. The boy stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the bed frame.

Finn looked around the room, his gaze darting from one corner to the other. His eyes were wide, confusion replacing the fear as he took in the sparse but functional room.

Zanik's quarters were a reflection of himself: simple, efficient, and devoid of any unnecessary frills. The walls were bare metal, the floor a dull gray. The bed was a narrow slab on a metal frame, covered with a thin blanket.

Against one wall was a desk, its surface clean and organized. A terminal sat at one end, its screen dark and silent. A single chair, utilitarian and uncomfortable, was tucked under the desk.

There were no personal effects, no mementos of a life lived. It was a room for sleeping, for planning, for surviving. Nothing more.

"This is where you'll stay," Zanik announced, his voice echoing in the small room. His gaze never left Finn as he added, "Don't even think about escaping. Only I control the lock."

Finn, now silent, took a moment to absorb his words before cautiously sitting on the bed. His slim form was swallowed by the oversized Borraq-sized bed, making him appear even smaller and more vulnerable. His tousled hair and flushed skin was a stark contrast against the sterile gray of the bedding, and his wide brown eyes flicked around the room, taking in every detail.

A primal feeling stirred in Zanik, a deep-rooted territoriality that made his muscles tense and his horns itch. It was as if a stranger had trespassed on sacred ground, disrupting the solitude he had meticulously cultivated. The feeling was visceral, an uncomfortable prickling sensation that crawled up his spine and set his nerves on edge.

The sight of the human on his bed, in his space, sparked a deep-seated instinct in Zanik that he had not felt in a long time. The sensation was raw, untamed, and thoroughly Borraq — a potent mix of protectiveness and possessiveness that was as powerful as it was alarming.

But Zanik was not some wild beast driven by instinct. He was a leader, a warrior, a strategist. He valued control, order, discipline.

These primal feelings, these territorial urges… They had no place in his life.

With a grimace, Zanik forced the feelings down, burying them beneath layers of control and reason. He reminded himself of his purpose, his duty. Finn was not a threat, not an intruder. He was a human, a prisoner, a means to an end.

Finn's gaze shifted, the defiant spark now replaced with a flicker of curiosity. He studied Zanik with a guarded intensity, a question hanging in the air between them. Zanik felt the weight of his gaze prickling at his skin. "Whose room is this?"

Zanik didn't answer. Instead, he turned. "Food will be brought to you in an hour."

Without another word, Zanik turned and strode out of the room, leaving Finn alone in the cold sterility of his quarters. He pressed his hand against the security panel, the door locking shut with a soft hiss. His fingers lingered on the panel, the green light of the lock indicator reflecting in his icy stare.

Done. One problem locked away.

And so many more to work on.

With Finn secured, Zanik's thoughts turned to the pressing matter at hand. Rivek. His mind began to churn with plans and countermeasures, ready to put the human boy out of his mind for now.

The image of his rival's sneering face flickered in his mind, fueling his determination. Zanik's life had taken many turns, from respected warrior to powerful smuggler lord, but the path he walked was of his own choosing.

He'd turned his back on the warmth and camaraderie of his clan, leaving behind a part of himself that still ached with loss. But that decision, as painful as it was, had forged him into who he was today. He had chosen solitude over community, power over companionship, the cold expanse of space over the wilds of Vasz.

His kingdom was not built on land or sea, but on stars and shadows. It was a realm of danger and unpredictability, a domain he thrived in.

The war with Rivek was a battle of wits and resources, a test of their mettle as leaders. But Zanik was not one to back down from a challenge. He would outmaneuver Rivek, he would secure his operations, and he would remain the unchallenged lord of his celestial kingdom.

His gaze drifted towards the starscape outside the ship's viewport, a myriad of distant lights against the inky blackness. Each star was a battlefield, each nebula a potential threat, each asteroid a hidden opportunity.

He was a king in a kingdom of stars, and he would defend his throne, no matter the cost.