Page 105 of Owned By the Hvrok

It was beautiful. Remote. Utterly untouched.

No cities. No people. No noise.

Just the fortress behind her—Kyhin’s fortress. Now hers, too.

A brutal structure of some alien, concrete-like substance, studded with mineral veins that caught the light like stars. Cold and unyielding once, but since her arrival, it had softened. A little. Subtle changes, additions. Textiles from across the Universe. Warm lighting. Even relics from Earth, scavenged from trader stalls and outposts. A record player. Woolen throws. Real coffee.

Kyhin brought them back each time he left—and he always came back.

Sometimes she was alone, surrounded by technology she didn’t understand, protected by systems that could probably reduce an invading army to ash. At first, the solitude had felt unbearable.

But not anymore.

Not when she knew he would return with gifts. With surprises. With his warmth and his hands and the low, rough voice that belonged only to her now.

She’d learned about him over time… through the translator and his increasingly fluent English, and now, through her growing grasp of his own language.

He’d once served an empire. Been one of the Hvrok elite, a blade in the dark, a tool of enforcement. And when the Hvrok turned on each other, when their legacy was burned down by their own hands, Kyhin had been left with no purpose but survival.

A killer without a cause.

Until her.

The thought struck her again, painfully intimate.

She was his reason now.

And if anyone tried to take her from him…

Her mind flashed to Earth. Her family. Her brothers. Her parents: aging, frail. Still alive, hopefully. Still waiting. Still wondering what happened to her.

She had disappeared from a beach. No trace. A car left behind. A case file, probably. A photo tacked to a corkboard somewhere, labelled:Missing.

God. The thought made her ache. How could she leave her family and friends with the pain of not knowing?

But Kyhin had promised. They would return. Soon. Once the ship was ready. Once his disguise was perfected.

She’d spent a long time thinking about it. Planning it. The lie.

A story about an abduction. About escape. About a mysterious man who helped her. She’d coach Kyhin in everything: his alias, his accent, his backstory.

They’d pull it off. Somehow.

And then, she’d say goodbye. Again. But properly this time.

Return here.

To him.

A flimsy plan, maybe, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t go back to the life she knew. She wasn’t that woman anymore. That life didn’t fit. Not after this.

Not after him.

He who would never let her go.

Behind her, a breeze stirred… and then warm arms wrapped around her. Large. Inhuman. Familiar.

Kyhin.

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