Primal Bond (Warlords of Vasz #4)

21. Chapter 21

Chapter twenty-one

Z anik stirred awake, his body warm and pleasantly heavy. He blinked, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar weight on his chest. Looking down, he saw a mop of tousled sandy brown hair.

Finn.

Memories of the night before flooded back. After their encounter in the cockpit, they'd stumbled back to his quarters, barely making it through the door before clothes started flying. Round two had been just as intense as the first.

Zanik smirked to himself. Finally back in my own bed.

He studied Finn's sleeping form, marveling at the difference between them. How small and delicate humans seemed to be, compared to Borraq. Finn's frame was slight, his skin soft despite its collection of scars.

Yet beneath that fragile exterior lay a resilience Zanik hadn't expected. Finn had endured so much, and still he fought back with a fire that both infuriated and captivated Zanik.

These feelings were... unexpected. New.

But somehow, they felt right.

Finn stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at Zanik, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Morning," Finn mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"About time you woke up," Zanik growled, but there was no real heat behind it.

Finn stretched, wincing slightly. "Ow. I think you broke me last night."

"Hardly. If you can still complain, you're fine."

"Is that a challenge?" Finn waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Zanik rolled his eyes, fighting back a grin. "We have work to do."

As Finn stretched, Zanik's eyes traced the myriad scars criss-crossing his pale skin. Some were faint, barely visible. Others stood out in stark relief, angry and red.

A surge of protectiveness welled up in Zanik's chest. He wanted to hunt down every person who'd ever hurt Finn and make them pay.

Finn caught him staring, and grinned. "Like what you see?" He struck an exaggerated pose.

Zanik snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Hey, I'll have you know these are battle scars." Finn pointed to a thin line on his forearm. "This one? Got it fighting off a pack of space wolves."

"Space wolves," Zanik repeated flatly.

"Yup. Vicious creatures." Finn's eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached out, tracing a jagged scar across Zanik's chest. "What about this one? Bet it's got a good story."

Zanik tensed, unused to anyone touching him so intimately. He'd kept his own scars hidden for years, never fully undressing even during quick encounters.

It felt strange to be so exposed now. But Finn just smiled, waiting expectantly. Zanik found himself relaxing under that warm gaze.

"Well," he growled, playing along, "if you must know, I got that one wrestling a Kronos beast on Vega Prime."

Finn's eyes widened in mock awe. "No way! Those things are huge!"

They continued like that, trading increasingly outlandish stories as they walked to the shower block and washed — something that they both badly needed that morning. Zanik marveled at how easy it felt, how natural.

For the first time in years, he didn't feel the need to keep his guard up.

As Finn spun another tall tale, gesticulating wildly, Zanik felt a warmth blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with the hot water. He'd found someone who understood pain, who carried their own scars, yet still managed to find joy and laughter.

It was... good.

A poet probably would have had better words. But he wasn't one. He was just Zanik, listening to his chosen mate make bad jokes about monsters as he washed his hair.

It was good .

As the last drops of water slid down their skin, Zanik turned off the shower. Steam enveloped them, clinging to their bodies. He stepped out first, the cool air contrasting sharply with the heat they'd just left behind.

Finn followed, droplets glistening on his skin, highlighting every plane and angle. His hair hung damp and tousled, framing his face like a halo. Zanik’s breath caught for a moment as he took in Finn’s youthful beauty — how the water accentuated his warm brown eyes and made his skin look even more radiant.

Before he could act on his instincts yet another time that morning, his comms unit buzzed. Kelara's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Our two new friends are docking."

Zanik shook himself from his thoughts. They had work to do. “Lock and dock,” he replied, forcing himself to focus on business rather than the way Finn looked, freshly washed and still damp beside him. "Bring them in."

Finn raised an eyebrow, excitement flickering in his gaze. “Are we ready for this? I mean… all this?”

Zanik studied Finn's expression — anticipation mixed with a hint of trepidation. Having allies in this war against Rivek felt strange yet good, as if they were building something solid amidst the chaos.

“We are,” Zanik said firmly.

Finn flashed him a grin that sent warmth pooling in Zanik’s chest. “I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do.” Zanik smirked back as he tossed a towel to Finn.

Finn caught it and began drying off, making exaggerated motions that drew Zanik's attention once more to how enticingly fresh and alive he looked. The soft lines of Finn's body glistened under the ship's lights as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

As they finished dressing, anticipation bubbled between them — a shared eagerness tinged with apprehension about what lay ahead. Together they headed toward the docking bay, leaving behind the steamy sanctuary where they'd momentarily forgotten their burdens.

Zanik stepped into the Ironclad's docking bay, the familiar scent of recycled air and sterilization spray filling his nostrils. Jasper and Kyral were standing together by their ship, their heads bent close, engaged in quiet conversation. Zanik's gaze lingered on them.

Jasper, slender and athletic, had a soft glow about him, like a candle flickering in the dark. His big blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and warmth, a stark contrast to the hardened life Zanik associated with humans.

Kyral, on the other hand, radiated strength. His muscular frame and sharp angles highlighted the Borraq's formidable presence. The way he leaned towards Jasper, protective yet relaxed, spoke volumes.

"Hey," Finn greeted, stepping in beside Zanik, his voice cheerful.

Jasper looked up, a grin spreading across his face. "We've been waiting for you two."

Kyral nodded, his expression more reserved but still welcoming. "You look well-rested."

Zanik folded his arms, watching the two. How did they manage this? A human and a Borraq — wherever they were in space, one was going to be free, the other not. He wondered about the unspoken challenges of their relationship. The thought stirred a knot of unease in Zanik's gut.

The conversation flowed without his input. Finn teased Jasper about something, and Jasper shot back a quick retort, laughter ringing in the cramped room.

But Zanik couldn't focus on their levity. His brow furrowed as he recalled Kyral’s mention of his home clan during their first meeting.

Kyral’s clan — Zanik's old clan.

Memories of the past flashed through his mind, unbidden. The old alpha, Arel. A rigid, strict leader, but a fair one. Zanik had admired him once, though he wouldn’t admit it. Arel ruled without hesitation, ensuring their clan's survival… but his control only extended over his clan. He had no sway over the warfront — and what it did to his clansmen.

And Rael, Arel's son and heir. Had Rael truly stepped up after the war? Had he managed to protect their clan after his father passed? Zanik's chest tightened at the thought.

Was it really a safe space for humans, now? Could that safety be trusted to stay?

“Zanik?” Finn’s voice broke through his reverie.

He blinked, refocusing on the group. “What?”

“Lost in thought?” Finn asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Zanik grunted, forcing himself to push aside his musings. “Just considering the state of things.”

Kyral exchanged a glance with Jasper, and Zanik felt the weight of their scrutiny. What did they see? He cleared his throat, pushing aside the unease. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jasper glanced at Kyral, then back at Zanik. “We’re heading out to keep looking for intel on Asher. He’s been missing too long, and we need to find him.”

Finn's expression fell. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yes,” Kyral confirmed. “It’s best if our two teams split up for now. We’ll cover more ground that way. Zanik, we’ll leave the mission to take down Rivek to you and Finn.”

Jasper's gaze softened. “Stay safe, both of you. If you have a safe way, keep in touch.”

Zanik stood at the entrance of the docking bay, arms crossed as he watched Finn. The human’s gaze remained fixed on Jasper and Kyral as they boarded their ship. Zanik could see the tension coiling in Finn’s shoulders, even though he tried to keep a brave face.

“I guess I’ll see them again soon.” Finn forced a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Zanik knew better. Finn was parting with the one person who understood him in this vast sector filled with Borraq. It made Zanik wonder what it must feel like — being cut off from your own kind, having only one other member of your species to share life with.

A sharp pang of sympathy pierced through him. Though he preferred solitude, he had always been surrounded by Borraq. But Finn? He had been forced into isolation from his whole species after Rivek had stolen him away.

Jasper had mentioned Kyral's clan was safe for humans, but safety must feel like a cage when you were always hiding from the world. What kind of life was that?

Finn raised a hand, waving at the departing ship even though Jasper couldn’t possibly see it from inside. The gesture felt heavy with longing, making Zanik's heart tighten further.

“Let’s go,” Zanik said abruptly as Kyral's ship readied for departure.

As they walked through the Ironclad’s corridors, Zanik stole glances at Finn out of the corner of his eye. Whatever Finn was feeling, he kept his expression neutral. “What’s next?”

Zanik shoved the thought of Finn’s fate deep into the recesses of his mind. He focused on the task at hand, reminding himself that they needed to gather intel on Rivek. The mission had to come first, before anything else. Whatever happened after that would be a problem for another time.

Yet, as he walked alongside Finn through the narrow corridors of the Ironclad, he felt an ache settle in his chest.

“I need to run a delivery first," Zanik said. "After that, we can attack the club again.”

Finn crossed his arms, brows furrowing. “How long will that take?”

“Depends on the buyers,” Zanik replied, his mind already calculating. “Could be a day if they behave themselves, maybe a few if they don't. It’s tactical, Finn. We can’t rush into this.”

“I know,” Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just... want to get this done. I want Rivek to pay.”

Zanik understood the fire in Finn's voice. The human’s rage mirrored his own. But they had to be smart about it.

“Trust me,” Zanik said, voice firm. “We’ll get him. But we can't just sit at the club every day. It'll be suspicious.”

Finn nodded, though his jaw clenched. “I just want him to pay for what he did.”

Zanik softened, his stoic facade slipping. “He will. I promise you.” He felt a surge of protectiveness. “Just keep your head clear. We can’t afford mistakes. Be a patient hunter.”

Finn let out a shaky breath, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Zanik placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Good. We’re in this together, remember that.” He felt Finn's warmth under his palm, grounding him. "Rest up. Get some nutrition and some sleep."

Finn shot him a look laced with wickedness. "And who exactly was it that kept me from sleeping last night?"

Damn. There was that ache in his chest again.

After a moment, Zanik stepped back, forcing himself to maintain distance. " Eat ," he chided Finn. "I want to see a quarter of those protein rations gone by tonight."

Finn groaned, then shot Zanik a lazy mock salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Zanik turned away, heading toward the bridge. Once alone there, Zanik sat in the captain’s chair, staring at the stars beyond the Ironclad's viewport. His mind wandered back to Jasper’s question from the night before: when he found himself face to face with Rivek, how would he take him down?

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Rivek was ruthless, cunning. Zanik's strength was undeniable, but so was Rivek's. Zanik was more than willing to simply challenge Rivek in traditional combat, but unlike most of the Borraq in this cursed sector, going up against Rivek was no simple matter. Zanik cursed under his breath. If only the bastard was weak and cowardly.

Zanik stood from the captain's chair, stretching his muscles. The bridge felt too small, too confining. He needed to move.

He stretched — when without thinking, his body moved into a familiar stance. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing. Old clan warrior drills. How long had it been since he'd last practiced?

He shifted his weight, flowing into the next position. His muscles protested, unused to the movements. Zanik grimaced.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself.

He'd let himself get soft. Sure, he was still strong — smuggling wasn't exactly a job for soft men. But this was different. These were the movements ingrained in him since childhood, the very essence of what it meant to be Borraq.

Zanik pushed through, forcing his body to remember. Each stance brought back memories. Training with Airen, both of them barely more than pups. The pride in his father's eyes when Zanik mastered a particularly difficult sequence.

Zanik growled, pushing the thought away. He focused on his movements, on the burn in his muscles.

What would the clan think of me now? he thought bitterly. Their once-proud warrior, fumbling through basic drills like a young boy.

His hand twitched, missing the familiar weight of his blade — not the simple one that he carried now, but his true clan blade. Most Borraq preferred close combat to guns. A clan blade was personal, an extension of the warrior.

Zanik's own had been passed down through generations. The blade had been a part of him, a symbol of honor and respect. He could still picture it, the intricate engravings along the hilt, the weight of it in his hand.

He had left it behind after the war, locked away in a chest of memories.

He'd put it behind when he'd abandoned his home.

Zanik stood on the bridge, the small space feeling even more confined as he moved through the familiar stances. Each kick, each strike, brought back memories he’d buried deep. He ground his teeth, forcing his body to remember the fluidity of his movements, the strength of his clan's teachings.

He snapped into a series of jabs, each punch punctuating his frustration. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words and memories he couldn’t shake.

Maybe I could go back.

The thought flickered through his mind like a light in the dark. What would it feel like to return? Would he be welcomed as a hero, or would they just see the fallen criminal he'd become?

Zanik twisted into a strike, imagining the faces of his clan. Would they even recognize him?

You left them behind. They might not want you back.

He struck again, the sound of his fist slicing through the air a reminder of how far he’d drifted. Each punch was a question he didn’t have the answer to.

With a final, powerful kick, Zanik ended his practice, sweat dripping down his brow. The bridge fell silent, the weight of his thoughts hanging heavy in the air. He leaned against the wall, staring out at the stars, lost in the uncertainty of it all.

Kelara stepped into the bridge, her sharp gaze landing on Zanik. The air felt thick with unspoken tension. He stood near the controls, sweat glistening on his golden skin, muscles tense.

She eyed him, taking in his state. “The system menu giving you trouble?”

Zanik scowled. “Just running through the motions.”

“Uh-huh.” Kelara leaned against the doorway, her posture casual but her eyes keen. “You look like you’ve been wrestling a grelak.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, brushing off the concern. He didn’t need her prying into his state of mind. “What’s the status on tomorrow's route?”

She straightened, shifting into business mode. “We’re clear for the next drop, but Rivek’s men are still sniffing around. I suggest we adjust our usual path. Maybe take a detour.”

Zanik nodded, his mind drifting as they went over their options, calculating the risks of every move. This wasn't a life for people who played things by ear. If you didn't respect the danger that lurked in every transaction, it would swallow you whole.

Kelara was good at it. "The military are about to shift their focus to the east of the subsector, and Kalypso Station's orbit is about to move a quarter-turn around their planet," she pointed out. "I don't think that intel is out there yet, so that space is likely going to be empty. We're best to run through it."

"Sometimes I think you were born for this."

"Then give me a greater revenue split."

"How much do you want?"

"Hmm… 'All of it' sounds pretty good to me. Let's start at one hundred percent and work up from there."

It was a joke she'd made before, making no attempts to hide her ambition and love of the game. Normally, Zanik liked to see it. Now, though, it struck a little too close to his swirling thoughts.

Zanik narrowed his eyes. "What would you do if I ever decided to give up the game?"

Kelara narrowed her own in response, matching him, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Take over your role, of course. Become the powerful loner, brooding alone in my bridge." She paused, her smirk widening. "Maybe even find a weird little alien mate of my own."

Zanik's brow furrowed. "I don't brood," he muttered.

Kelara laughed, not unkindly. "Sure you don't, boss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll need to ready the dock." She turned and left, her bootsteps echoing down the corridor.

She was a livewire. Zanik needed his men to be sharp, savvy, and confident enough to speak their minds.

Sometimes, that could be a curse.

He shook his head, turning back to the navigation console. He stared at the plotted route on the screen, his finger hovering over the controls.

The route they'd chosen was good. The safest outcome.

But there was something else he needed. He knew that now.

With a deep breath, he added a single destination to the route: an old safe drop location.

It's not a commitment, he told himself. Just a possibility.

A chance to see if there was still a place for him in that world.