Page 65 of Owned By the Hvrok

It was… something else.

Care.

It hit her square in the chest like a blow.

Not the kind of feeding you give to livestock. Or prisoners. Or playthings.

No. This wasgentle. Intentional.

He wasnurturingher.

The shock of it rooted her to the seat, mouth dry.

She glanced up at his helmet, at the faceless mask that still kept him hidden from her, even now. But his body—the warmth, the steadiness, the absolute stillness as he held that strange alien spoon out to her—spoke louder than words ever could.

He’s feeding me.

She should’ve refused.

Should’ve pulled away. Shaken her head. Asserted herself somehow.

But she didn’t.

She opened her mouth.

And let him feed her.

As if in a daze, she leaned forward and took the first bite.

The taste hit her instantly—faintly metallic, gluey, the barest hint of something vegetable, but mostly, it was sludge. Itwasn’t revolting so much asempty. Like eating memory. Like swallowing ghosts.

But there was something else happening. Something she didn’t understand.

Because he was kneeling.

Kneeling.

Beside her. Towering, dangerous, otherworldly—and he’dloweredhimself.

She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected him to descend from that impossible height, to reduce the power imbalance by choice. She’d thought he would always loom, always command, always remind her that she was below him. A possession. A pet.

But this?

This was something else.

And itshouldhave felt humiliating.

It didn’t.

It felt… mesmerising.Forbidden.

She took another bite.

And another.

There was insistence in his feeding—something almostforcefulin the way he brought the utensil to her lips, not rushed, not aggressive, but steady. Like he’d decided she was going to eat, and this was how.

There was no option butyes.

---