Page 24 of Primal Vow

Yet any anxiety he might have felt was overshadowed by the hollowness gnawing at his core.

Taryn sat near Rhys, his piercing eyes on him. "You're troubled."

Rhys snorted. "Yeah, big guy. I just got cast out of humanity like garbage."

"That is the failing of those scum, not of you."

Rhys dragged his gaze from the fire to meet Taryn's stare. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be now."

The words hung heavy between them, more truth than Rhys had intended to share. But there was something in Taryn's straightforward manner that demanded honesty.

Taryn considered him for a long moment before speaking. "You are Rhys. A survivor who faced the end and now lives to fight another day." His tone softened, carrying a rumble of respect. "That is strength."

Getting left behind didn't make him strong. It just made him pathetic. Disposable. The dreams for a better life that he'd clung to so hard to… they were just desperate wishes, never coming true.

But before he could summon the words, Taryn continued. "You will find your path forward, Rhys. The honor is in choosing to walk it."

Was Taryn really trying to comfort him? Rhys dug at the ground with the toe of his boot, not daring to look up at the Borraq. He was a human, damn it. Humans were survivors. Independent, resourceful. They didn't need comfort from anyone.

Even if that anyone was a towering, horned alien who looked at him with eyes full of some unnameable emotion, something that cut through the depths of Rhys's despondency and sent a shiver running down his spine.

He was alone. He needed to remember that. Being near Taryn was dangerous… for a whole host of reasons.

Taryn spoke to him anyway. "Eat," he rumbled.

"I'm not hungry," Rhys said.

Taryn took a slab of meat from the fire. He held it out, offering it to him.

Rhys wanted to wallow in his misery, but it smelled good. Really good, as long as Rhys didn't think too hard about which one of the small beasts of Vasz it must have come from.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, and then took it.

The meat was gamey and tough, the flavor rich and wild. He found himself tearing into it, the heat from the flames drowned out as the warmth of the meal filled him.

"It's good," he said. "Thanks."

Taryn's eyes were bright in the firelight. "You're welcome."

The simple act of sharing a meal, of someone acknowledging his pain and trying to help… It was more than Rhys had ever expected to find here. More than just the taste of the meat, there was something about the warmth at his side, the deep rumble of Taryn's voice, the steady presence of the Borraq's thickly-muscled arm not far from his own.

It was dangerous.

And it was something that Rhys found himself desperately not wanting to turn his back on.

"So," he said, his voice coming out a little too quickly to be casual. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What's the plan for me, then? Once you stop the others… you're not just going to dump me in the middle of nowhere, are you?"

Taryn's mouth quirked up at the corners. "I'm not in the habit of disposing of my guests."

"Your guests," Rhys said. "Right. I'm not really sure that being kidnapped counts as being a guest."

They were speaking lightly, but there was an undercurrent to the conversation, a silent weight that both of them felt. Rhys chewed on his meat, torn between the desire to run as far away from Taryn as he could — and the burning, desperate need to have the Borraq reassure him that he wouldn't.

That Rhys was safe here, in the heart of this dangerous, alien camp.

That there was still some kind of future for him, if only he could find it.

Rhys chewed on the last of his meat. He looked down at the fire, then over at the Borraq. "So, uh… what do Borraq do for fun? Besides hunting down humans, I mean."

---