Page 28 of Owned By the Hvrok

He had seen the species before, of course. In files, in containment, at auctions. He had studied their skeletal structures, their physiology, their limits. But no document, no scan, no datafeed could have prepared him for the reality of this human female standing before him now.

She was small. Soft. Round where Hvrok were angular. Vulnerable in a way that bordered on unthinkable. No armor. No carapace. No defensive ridges or protective scales. No claws. No fangs.

And no wings.

She was utterly defenseless.

And yet, she stood tall.

Defiant.

She was the most exposed thing in the galaxy right now, and she stillglaredat him, unflinching. As if she had power here.

Courage without armor. It defied logic.

He scanned her without moving, recording every curve, every detail. Her skin was a soft, warm brown, smooth and supple, unblemished except where faint marks from the collar and bindings remained. Her breasts were full and high, round and pert in a way he had not expected. Between her thighs, a delicate tuft of pale hair. Her legs, her belly, her hips—she had curves his kind did not possess. Not like this.

Hvrok females were built for combat. Hard muscle. Dense bone. Function over form.

But this human?

She wasmadefor softness.

For touch.

Golden hair clung to her shoulders and neck, tousled and damp from sweat and tears. The color struck him anew—gold. Not pale like some humans, not yellowed or bleached, but rich, warm gold. Like starlight.

He’d never seen a shade like it in the breeding cages.

Rare.

Precious.

And beautiful.

The thought struck him unexpectedly.Beautiful.

He wanted to touch her.

Not just out of curiosity. Not even out of dominance.

He wanted to run his hands over her soft, strange skin. To trace the curves of her hips, to feel the shape of her breasts beneath his palms. To learn how sheresponded.

And then another thought followed, unbidden.

Would she feel pleasure, if I touched her?

The question stunned him.

He had considered her as a source ofhispleasure, of course. It was natural. He was dominant. She was his. Her body existed to serve him—her resistance a phase, nothing more.

Butherpleasure?

Why should that matter?

Why did the idea stir him?

Her scent distracted him again—a reminder of the station, of Dukkar filth and captivity and fear. It clung to her like oil. It offended him. She smelledwrong. Her body, her skin—his property—still carried traces of others.

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