Alone.
Just the two of them in this small space. Even though the chamber is particularly large, Juta still feels claustrophobic, like he's cornered from all angles.
He doesn't know how much more of this he can tolerate.
It's not as though he had a choice—Ruto had literally hauled him up and carried him back to this place.
He almost felt claimed, the way one would carry a mate. Juta shudders unwillingly at the thought.
This whole space reeks of Ruto. And he hates it, this suffocation, being buried by his presence like this. The subtle smell of molten steel and Ruto's natural scent—something between dragon fire and wild fae magic.
Maybe what he detests most is the familiarity of it.
He watches skeptically as Ruto rummages through the chamber, and he cannot help but think: What does Ruto actually want from him?
