Page 7 of Primal Bond

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 bodyfrom 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 façade. 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 shieldthose 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,hisspace.

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.

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