He remembered that first moment in the frontier bar, when the human's scent had hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. Jasper's presence had been a mate's call, beckoning Kyral to take him, to make him his own in the most primal way. Even now, the memory made his cock throb, desire coiling low in his belly with dizzying intensity.
Only decades of strict self-discipline had allowed Kyral to maintain his stoic facade that night. He'd shoved the intoxicating need down, locking it away behind an iron will forged by years of solitude and rejection.
A human could never be his, could never understand the way their scent awakened such base hungers in a Borraq's soul. Yet now, with Jasper's lithe form pressed so close and that maddening fragrance surrounding him utterly, Kyral found his control slipping like grains of sand through his fist.
In these close confines, there was no escaping the dizzying call of a mate.
Jasper's hands drifted lower, ghosting along the tense cords of Kyral's abdomen. Kyral sucked in a sharp breath, fighting against the primal urges clawing at his insides.
He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the whisper of the alpine breeze against his sweat-slicked skin. The chill helped clear his mind, dousing the flames of desire raging through his body.
Gradually, the roar of instinct receded into a dull thrum, allowing Kyral to relax fractionally. The human's deft fingers continued their soothing ministrations, and as the minutes passed, Kyral found himself settling into the rhythm. As the tension bled from his muscles, an unexpected sound slipped from his throat — a low sigh of pleasure. Jasper's technique was surprisingly effective.
Kyral couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced such gentle, purposeful contact. Not since his clan had turned their backs on him all those years ago, deeming him too tainted by human interference to remain among their ranks. The rejection had cut deeper than any wound, severing him from the warm embrace of family and leaving him adrift in a universe of cold isolation.
Yet here was this human — this fragile, unlikely creature — offering a measure of comfort Kyral had long since resigned himself to living without. His brow furrowed as another tremor of sensation rippled through him, the pleasure of it almost… overwhelming.
Jasper's hands roamed lower, working out the knots of tension from the arch of Kyral's hip. Each press of those deft fingers seemed to unlock another fragment of bittersweet memory, laying bare the gaping void of physical connection he'd been so good at ignoring all these years.
Jasper's clever hands found a particularly stubborn knot, and set to unraveling it with focused pressure. A rumbling sigh slipped from Kyral's lips, and his head lolled back against the rocky outcrop, eyes drifting shut as he surrendered to the blissful sensations.
A deep rumble built in his chest. It started low, little more than a pleasurable thrum, but quickly swelled into something far more primal.
A purr.
The guttural sound slipped free before he could stop it, a raw expression of contentment he hadn't experienced in… he couldn't even remember how long. Not since before the war, before the gene bomb that had forever altered the course of his life.
Kyral caught himself, cutting it off.
Jasper's hands stilled, the human clearly taken aback. Kyral could practically feel the weight of Jasper's gaze, heavy with surprise and something else he couldn't quite place.
Shame washed over Kyral in a scorching wave. What was he doing, allowing himself such unguarded vulnerability in front of this human?
Kyral tensed beneath the human's touch, his earlier blissful lassitude evaporating like morning mist before the blazing sun. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched as mortification flooded his senses. How could he have let his guard down so completely?
To be so desperate for touch, to voice his pleasure so shamelessly… It was humiliating.
Disgust churned in his gut, aimed inward at his own appalling lack of control. With a sharp inhalation, Kyral jerked away from the human's touch. His entire body thrummed with a violent revulsion, every muscle coiled tight as he fought to regain his tenuous grip on composure.
"That's enough," he bit out.
Jasper froze, clearly reading the peril in Kyral's tone. The human's eyes were wide, lips parted in what might have been surprise or the ghost of a question.
Kyral didn't give him a chance to voice it. Shoving himself to his feet, he turned his back on Jasper with a harshness that felt cruel, even to his own senses. He couldn't bear to meet that guileless blue gaze a moment longer, not when it made something deep inside him yearn in a way he refused to think about.
"We're wasting time," he growled, still-aching muscles bunching beneath his sweat-slicked skin. "Get your gear. We're moving out."
There was a beat of weighted silence, thick with unspoken tension. Kyral could feel Jasper's eyes burning into his back, confusion and hurt rolling off the human in waves.
Then, finally, a soft rustle of movement as Jasper began gathering his supplies without a word of protest. For that, at least, Kyral was grateful.
He didn't dare look back as they set off once more, his strides long and punishing over the uneven terrain. If he allowed himself to linger on what had just transpired, to dwell on the unfamiliar emotions still churning within him...
No. It was better to push it all aside, to bury it beneath the weight of sheer determination. They had a goal, a purpose that couldn't be tainted by such unseemly distractions.
Kyral was independent. He didn't need anyone.
Solitude was a safeguard, not a prison.