Page 25 of Owned By the Hvrok

And something inside him responded.

She had no understanding of her position. She didn’t grasp the insult she offered him with every uncontrolled gesture, every word hurled in his direction. She didn’tknowthe laws of the galaxy. That her life was his to claim or end. That she stood before a weapon wrapped in a name.

He had no obligation to tolerate her.

And yet, he did.

Because she washis. And because she didn’t know better.

Not yet.

The scent of the trading station clung to her, sour and thick. Worse—Dukkar residue. It crawled over her skin, layered in the fabric of that offensively thin clothing. Kyhin couldsmellthem—every hand that had passed too close, every trace of their sickly pheromones. The reek of the auction cage hadn’t faded.

He wanted it gone.

The clothes. The scent. The memory of what had touched her before he had.

She needed to be cleansed. Stripped. Scrubbed raw if necessary.

That garment—if it could even be called that—offended him. Not because it exposed too much. But because it spoke of weakness. Of a world that did not value its own.

He would burn it the moment it left her body.

He imagined her washed, scented properly, dressed in garments of his choosing. Something dark. Sharp. Worthy.

She had not earned it.

But he would grant it anyway.

She raged on, body shaking with every breath. Her voice—a sound without shape, meaning, or logic—struck him like storm wind. Loud. Pointless. Beautiful.

She was trying to fight him.

Withsound.

She didn’t understand.

But she would.

This was a test.

For her, yes—but more so, for him.

Could he make her yield without breaking her?

Could he force her to accept what she could never defeat?

Could he hold this flickering, irrational fire in his grasp—without snuffing it out?

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He simply waited.

She would tire. Eventually. And when she did… the lesson would begin.

Because she was human.

---