Page 20 of Owned By the Hvrok

God, who did this bastard think he was?

She wanted to spit, to curse, to throw something—anything to show him she wasn’t some docile pet to be adorned. But a glance at him cooled that fire. He stood like a statue carved from shadow, his powerful form radiating calm… but not kindness. Control. Power. Restraint.

Barely.

She didn’t want to find out what would happen if that restraint snapped.

And still… when he chuckled, something hot and unfamiliar coiled in her belly. Like this whole thing amused him. As if her anger, her defiance, pleased him. Was that it? Did he get off on this?

Arrogant bastard.

But… there was something else in her, too. Something traitorous. The tiniest, most awful flicker of dark fascination. Because despite everything—his terrifying silence, his armor, his hulking strength—there was something thrilling about the idea of being chosen. Possessed.

She hated the thought. Hated that she felt it.

And then he moved.

Fast. So fast she barely registered it. One moment, he stood across the room. The next, he was there—right in front of her. Towering. Imposing. She flinched, instinctively stepping back, heart pounding.

But he didn’t raise a hand. Not like that.

Instead, he reached out, fingers closing around the collar at her throat—the old one, the one that had been there since her capture.

With a sickening crunch, he crushed it. The tech sparked and twisted beneath his armored grip, mangled into scrap. It split open with a hiss and clattered to the floor in ruined pieces.

Sylvia gasped, swallowing hard.

Then, to her surprise, he brushed the broken shards from her skin. Carefully. Gently. His touch, even through the armor, was measured and precise. Like he was… being delicate with her. Like she was fragile.

Because she was.

Her breath caught again as he raised the jeweled collar. Slowly, almost reverently, he clasped it around her neck.

It fit. Too well.

Warm, smooth, impossibly light—and far too intimate.

She hated it. She hated how soft it was, how it hugged her skin like silk. She hated the idea that it had been made for her, sized to her exact dimensions. That it was beautiful. That it looked good.

That it felt like it belonged there.

He said something in his own language then. Just a word. Deep and gravelly, vibrating from somewhere in his chest. She didn’t know what it meant.

But she knew what it felt like.

Final.

Then his eyes—if she could even see them behind the helmet—dragged over her. Slow. Measuring. Possessive. She felt it like a brand.

Naked.

He didn’t touch her again. Didn’t have to.

He simply turned. Gestured. That same motion again. Follow.

Her collar shimmered faintly in the starlight.

And she followed.

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