Page 15 of Owned By the Hvrok

Defiance.

It stirred something in him. A heat. A discomfort he didn’t understand. He shifted slightly, his muscles coiling under the sleek armor that still clung to his frame. She was trembling. Fragile. Soft. The softest thing he’d ever seen in the universe.

He didn’t know what to do with her.

He’d never bought another living being before. Never cared to. But something about her at the auction… He’d seen the way the others looked at her—like meat. And without thinking, without planning, he’d spoken. Claimed her. Just like that.

An indulgence. His first.

His people would have scoffed. If any of them remained.

Vokar. The memory struck him like a blade through the ribs. His home—gone. Reduced to scorched stone and radioactive ash. His kind—warriors, kings, killers—slaughtered by their own pride, their own arrogance. They had turned on one another, consumed by infighting, hoarding their deadly weapons like children with poison toys. And when the weapons ignited… there had been nothing left to save.

He had not been there. He had been finishing a contract. A clean job on Kroll, a simple execution of a merchant turned rebel informant. When he returned, Vokar was dust.

He might be the last Hvrok.

And now, here he stood—staring at a frightened human female with no knowledge of the galaxy, no language in common, and a fire in her eyes that warned she might not submit easily.

Good.

He didn’t want a simpering pet. But he also could not allow rebellion. Not here. Not when he had no time, no patience, and no second chances.

He would have to train her.

Teach her.

Yes. That was how he would approach this.

She was his now. She belonged to him. That meant care… and discipline. He would be kind. Gentle, if he must. But firm. The human would learn her place. She would understand the rules of the civilized universe, and his rules above all.

He stepped forward, his armored feet making no sound. She flinched—but didn’t back away.

That pleased him.

He raised a hand, letting the armor recede at his command. The nanostructure slid back into his skin, revealing his bare palm. Carefully, slowly, he reached out and touched her shoulder.

She stiffened. Her skin was warm. Delicate. He could feel the tiny tremble that ran through her, could sense the way her heart quickened in response. Not just fear. Something else.

His fingers slid up, brushing over her neck, her jaw, her cheek. Then to her hair. He let the strands run through his fingers like water.

She smelled of Earth. Of salt and wind and something vibrant he couldn’t name.

He inhaled through the vents of his helm. A low, guttural hum stirred in his chest.

He would keep her safe.

He would keep her close.

But she would learn. Starting now.

CHAPTER 11

The silence in the room wasn’t empty. It pulsed with unspoken things.

Sylvia stood just inside the threshold of the chamber, the soles of her bare feet cold against the smooth alien floor. Her pulse throbbed in her throat as she tried to steady her breath. The dark metal walls curved slightly inward, like she was standing in the belly of some living creature. Lights embedded in the ceiling pulsed with a faint bluish glow—enough to see, but not enough to feel comforted.

And him.

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