Page 22 of Primal Call

But in the space of a few soul-baring moments, this human had managed to chip away at the armor Kyral had spent years forging around his heart.

His powerful strides ate up the rugged terrain, each footfall carrying him further from the unexpected intimacy he'd just experienced. Yet no matter how swiftly he moved, he couldn't quite outpace the lingering echoes of Jasper's touch.

He could still taste the ghost of that rumbling purr, an echo of vulnerability he could never allow himself to repeat.

He risked a glance over his shoulder, jaw tightening as he watched Jasper following at a respectful distance. The human's expression was carefully neutral, those expressive blue eyes downcast as he picked his way along the trail. Yet Kyral didn't miss the furtive flickers of Jasper's gaze, the subtle tension gripping his slight form.

He shouldn't care how the human felt. Jasper's distress shouldn't matter, not when Kyral's own composure had been so grievously compromised by that inexplicable moment of weakness. A flicker of frustration sparked to life within him, rapidly fanning into a familiar burn of anger. This was why he had sworn off companionship in all its forms — because it made one vulnerable in ways Kyral could ill afford.

Out here in the wilds, surrounded by potential threats and pursuing the most coveted of prizes, he needed to remain razor-focused. Steady. In control.

Allowing a human — allowing anyone — to crack his stoic facade was tantamount to suicide. It was a lapse in discipline Kyral could not permit himself to repeat.

Inhaling deeply, Kyral flexed his hands as he pressed onward through the looming dusk. He focused on the familiar motions of navigating treacherous terrain, allowing the rhythmic crunch of each footfall to soothe his lingering inner turmoil.

Yes, this was what he needed: to lose himself in the primal thrill of the hunt. Out here in the untamed wilds, far from the trappings of civilization and its unwanted complexities, his path was clear.

Survive.

Endure.

Conquer any threat that dared bar his way, whether it was a beast, or a rival — or his own twisted feelings.

Chapter nine

The chill of the evening settled over their makeshift campsite, nestled between towering alpine trees. Jasper huddled close to the fire, watching Kyral from the corner of his eye as the Borraq warrior tended to their supplies.

Despite Kyral's gruff demeanor, Jasper noticed him slipping extra rations into his pack when he thought the human wasn't looking. A furtive glance, a deft movement, and the pack was just a little more full. Jasper felt an unexpected warmth bloom in his chest at the discreet gesture.

For all of Kyral's prickly exterior, he seemed to harbor a quiet concern for Jasper's well-being — not that he'd admit it.

Jasper found himself studying Kyral's movements, the way the firelight danced across his chiseled features. There was a rugged grace to the Borraq, a primal strength that somehow didn't diminish the thoughtfulness lurking beneath the surface.

Jasper sat by the fire, his thoughts drifting back to that massage. The memory of his hands on Kyral's body was vivid, almost tangible. He could still feel the firm, unyielding muscles beneath his fingers, the surprising heat of his skin despite the cool air.

He'd started the massage with a clinical mindset, focusing on alleviating Kyral's pain. Yet, as his fingers worked their way across those taut muscles, he couldn't help but feel a flush creeping up his neck. Kyral's body was alien, yet strikingly familiar in its strength and form. Jasper had found himself captivated by the way each muscle responded to his touch, how every knot and tension point seemed to melt under his skilled hands.

His medical skills back at the front had mostly involved tending to sprains, colds, and, when bored and pent-up soldiers drank too much, black eyes.

Running his hands all over toned muscles… Even without the species barrier, that had been something else entirely.

Despite his efforts to maintain a professional demeanor, heat rose to his cheeks. The sensation of Kyral's skin under his hands was intoxicating in a way he hadn't anticipated. He'd tried to act professional, willing himself to stay composed even as his body reacted.

He remembered the moment when Kyral began to purr — because that's what that had to have been. It was a low, rumbling sound of deep contentment that had caught them both off guard.

Jasper had felt a jolt of something electric at that sound, a mix of surprise and an odd sense of satisfaction. It was as if he had unlocked a secret part of Kyral that even the Borraq hadn't expected to reveal.

Jasper's gaze flicked over to Kyral now, who was methodically checking their gear. The hunter seemed so composed, so self-assured. Jasper wondered if Kyral had sensed any of his inner turmoil during the massage. Did Kyral know how affected Jasper had been?

He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the lingering warmth in his chest. It was absurd — dangerous even — to have tangled feelings about someone who had bought him as a slave.

And yet, he couldn't deny the connection that had sparked between them during those fleeting moments of touch.

Jasper pulled his coat tighter around him, attempting to focus on the crackling fire instead of the confusing emotions swirling inside him. But no matter how hard he tried, the memory of Kyral's strong body beneath Jasper's hands lingered in his mind.

His rational mind screamed at him to focus on survival, on getting off of this planet.

But another part of him — a deeper, instinctual part — wasn't thinking about that at all.