Page 4 of Primal Bond

What a mess. Zanik had expected money from Urlek, not this pathetic prize of war. Another problem to solve.

Where had a wretch like Urlek even found a pet human, of all things? Borraq had been at war with humans for years. The frontline between human and Borraq space was heavily patrolled by both sides — only someone foolish or suicidal would dare go near it, lest they be shot to ribbons by both sides. Zanik had heard rumors now and again of some Borraq flaunting captured human prisoners, but they were just that: rumors. If the Borraq military ever caught you harboring an enemy, you'd be executed.

Knowing Urlek, he'd probably won the damn thing in a bet.

Zanik's gaze swept over Finn's form, noting the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. Marks of Urlek’s depravity. Zanik clenched his jaw, swallowing down his irritation. The boy looked fragile, like he might shatter if handled too roughly.

Pathetic.

Finn's hair was tousled, a sandy brown mop that probably hadn't seen water in days. Dirt streaked across his cheeks, mingling with dried blood from a cut above his eyebrow. His clothes — if you could call them that — hung off him in tatters.

But it was the eyes that caught Zanik's attention: warm brown pools filled with anger and fear in equal measure. Instead of being beaten down and dulled by pain, those eyes were lively — and currently searching for something as they darted around the docking bay.

Maybe the human was looking for hope, or an ally, or even just an opportunity to run. Futile.

The human finally noticed Zanik's gaze. He shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, drawing his thin arms around himself as if trying to form a barrier against the world.

Zanik’s mind raced through the labyrinth of his responsibilities. The Borraq military pretended to run this sector, but everyone knew who really held the power here.

At the edge of the law, smugglers ran things — and Zanik was their king. He had shipments to oversee, deals to finalize, and rivals to outmaneuver. His network spanned the entire sector, a web of alliances and enmities. The smugglers under his command respected him out of fear and necessity; Zanik didn’t tolerate incompetence or betrayal.

And right now, he wasn't interested in being a babysitter.

His gaze narrowed on Finn. What to do with him? He couldn’t just leave the human here in his ship's docking bay, but whenhe'd commissioned the construction of theIronclad, he hadn't exactly added a pen for humans.

"Come."

Finn didn’t move, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Could the human even understand him? As far as Zanik knew, humans and Borraq had Common as a shared language. But maybe Urlek had thrown this one around a few too many times…

With a sigh that betrayed his frustration, Zanik reached out and gripped Finn’s arm. Despite the grime and bruises covering him, the human’s skin felt warm and soft under his fingers.

Warm. Soft. Inviting. Everyone knew that humans were trouble. With their enticing pheromones, they could turn the head of any Borraq…

Any but Zanik. When he'd volunteered for the frontlines, he'd signed up for genetic modification that reduced his ability to catch the scent. He hadn't wanted to be affected by it, lusting after humans even as he hunted them down. Unlike his easily-distracted fellow warriors, he'd kept himself focused.

This close, though, he could still catch a faint trace of it. Something sweet, something inviting. Something that would curl like smoke down into the deepest depths of him, if he let it.

He wasn't going to. If the human was hoping that his scent would make Zanik kind, he was wrong.

Zanik closed his grip around the human's arm.

"Fuck off," Finn snapped, jerking his arm free with surprising strength.

Well, at least that answered that question. Zanik’s icy stare met Finn’s defiant glare, and an unexpected curiosity flickered inside him.

Beneath the grime and bruises, the boy wasn’t broken. There was still a fire there.

Interesting.

Zanik released Finn’s arm, his expression hardening to mask his intrigue. "You belong to me now," he said, voice low and firm, leaving no room for argument. "Get moving."

Finn's eyes flashed with anger, but he took a step forward. Zanik turned, leading the way into the ship. He heard Finn's hesitant footsteps behind him, the soft sound of bare feet on metal grating.

Good.

As they walked through the narrow corridors of the Ironclad, Zanik couldn’t help but glance back at Finn. The human’s defiance was palpable. Not recklessly, stupidly — this was someone who had clearly learned a lesson the hard way about directly challenging a Borraq. But there was something alive and intent in the way that Finn's gaze was pinned on Zanik, thoughts racing behind those rich brown depths.

It had been a long time since Zanik had seen such sharpness in someone so downtrodden.

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