Page 8 of Primal Bond

These primal feelings, these territorial urges… They had no place in his life.

With a grimace, Zanik forced the feelings down, burying them beneath layers of control and reason. He reminded himself of his purpose, his duty. Finn was not a threat, not an intruder. He was a human, a prisoner, a means to an end.

Finn's gaze shifted, the defiant spark now replaced with a flicker of curiosity. He studied Zanik with a guarded intensity, a question hanging in the air between them. Zanik felt the weight of his gaze prickling at his skin. "Whose room is this?"

Zanik didn't answer. Instead, he turned. "Food will be brought to you in an hour."

Without another word, Zanik turned and strode out of the room, leaving Finn alone in the cold sterility of his quarters. He pressed his hand against the security panel, the door locking shut with a soft hiss. His fingers lingered on the panel, the green light of the lock indicator reflecting in his icy stare.

Done. One problem locked away.

And so many more to work on.

With Finn secured, Zanik's thoughts turned to the pressing matter at hand. Rivek. His mind began to churn with plans and countermeasures, ready to put the human boy out of his mind for now.

The image of his rival's sneering face flickered in his mind, fueling his determination. Zanik's life had taken many turns, from respected warrior to powerful smuggler lord, but the path he walked was of his own choosing.

He'd turned his back on the warmth and camaraderie of his clan, leaving behind a part of himself that still ached with loss. But that decision, as painful as it was, had forged him into who he was today. He had chosen solitude over community, power over companionship, the cold expanse of space over the wilds of Vasz.

His kingdom was not built on land or sea, but on stars and shadows. It was a realm of danger and unpredictability, a domain he thrived in.

The war with Rivek was a battle of wits and resources, a test of their mettle as leaders. But Zanik was not one to back down from a challenge. He would outmaneuver Rivek, he would secure his operations, and he would remain the unchallenged lord of his celestial kingdom.

His gaze drifted towards the starscape outside the ship's viewport, a myriad of distant lights against the inky blackness. Each star was a battlefield, each nebula a potential threat, each asteroid a hidden opportunity.

He was a king in a kingdom of stars, and he would defend his throne, no matter the cost.

Chapter four

Finn grappled with the ventilation cover above his head, teeth gritted as he strained to pry it loose. A week on this godforsaken ship and he was back to this — wrestling with a stubborn metal grate. He huffed in frustration, his muscles aching from the strain.

His fingers slipped, and he tumbled onto the cold, hard floor. Finn groaned, rubbing his bruised shoulder. "Well, that's attempt number twenty-three," he muttered to the empty room, rolling his eyes.

The first time, he'd tried to jimmy the door lock, only to be caught by Kelara. His only reward had been an arched eyebrow, not even worthy of punishment.

Then he'd feigned illness, hoping to find out the location of the infirmary — and any sleeping drugs it might contain, hopefully perfect for slipping into his captors' food. His performance was wasted on Zanik, who just tossed him a bitter-tasting pill and told him to sleep it off.

And who could forget his brave, albeit foolhardy, sprint towards the escape pods? He'd barely taken three steps before he was flat on his face, a Borraq foot planted firmly on his back.

Now, this.

Finn sighed, flopping onto the unyielding bed. His clothes swam around him, borrowed Borraq shirt and pants desperately tied to to his smaller frame with a belt. He propped himself up on his elbows, studying the austere room that had become his prison. A thin mattress, a blanket, and a table.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, frustration simmering beneath his skin. He was no closer to freedom than when he'd arrived, and his new owner — Zanik, the icy-eyed Borraq — was as enigmatic and unapproachable as ever.

But Finn was nothing if not persistent.

With a grim smile, Finn sat up, pushing himself off the bed. He dusted off his pants, his gaze falling on the ventilation cover once again.

"Round two, here we go," he said, a spark of defiance lighting his brown eyes. He jumped up, grabbing onto the edges of the cover.

For all his failures, Finn's spirit remained unbroken. He was still a captive, still locked up like a dog. But as long as he had his wits about him, he would never stop trying to escape.

He thought about Urlek. The rough hands, the crude jokes, the constant threat hanging over his head. Finn shuddered, remembering the acts that had become his daily routine. Urlek's treatment had been a nightmare, one he had barely survived with his sanity intact.

But Zanik... Zanik was different. Icy, yes. As distant as a supernova, absolutely. But there was a strange sort of order in his presence, a structured coldness that contrasted sharply with Urlek's chaotic cruelty. Finn found himself begrudgingly admitting that, so far at least, Zanik was a better captor.

He hadn't touched Finn once. He hadn't even looked tempted.

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