Page 67 of Owned By the Hvrok

Her heart thudded once, loudly, but her limbs moved without protest, and she curled herself into his lap. He settled her there, his chest a wall of heat at her back, his arms coming around her without hesitation. She felt small against him, swallowed whole by strength and silence and something she couldn’t name.

God, he’s so warm.

She felt like a cat. Like he wanted herclose. Curled.

A cat in a villain’s lap.Ha.

She should’ve resisted, should’ve reasserted herself.

But she didn’t.

Because there was something deeply tempting in this. Something subversive and strange. Something Earth-dweller Sylvia would have rejected instantly, derisively.

Nohumanwould have drawn this kind of reaction out of her.

But she wasn’t on Earth anymore.

And here, in this cold, death-still night, in the arms of a faceless monster who had just fed her, clothed her, warmed her…

She let it happen.

And thought:Maybe… maybe this is easier than fighting.

Maybe getting him to begentle—to bethis—was a kind of power all its own.

CHAPTER 33

She had eaten.

Unwillingly, reluctantly, but she had eaten—all of it.

He’d watched every motion of her mouth, every shift in her expression as she forced down the bland protein slurry, and he’d seen the moment… when something in her had changed. When her memories gave way to present necessity. When survival instincts overrode disgust.

Good.

That impressed him. And, with his changing impression came a curious sense of pride. She was a clever being, and she washis.

She was more intelligent than he’d initially assumed. More rational. Her emotions flared brightly, but she adapted. She endured. She was frightened, yes, but not paralyzed by fear. And not too proud to do what was necessary.

She hadn’t needed to be forced.

He was glad for that.

And when the light returned—if this planet had light in the morning, if Anakris obeyed any kind of reasonable solar cycle—he would find her something better. There had to be game in themountains. The scanner had picked up heat signatures—fast-moving, four-limbed, warm-blooded. Huntable.

He would bring her meat, roasted over flame. Seared as his people had always prepared it. That would sustain her. Maybe she would even like it.

And now…

She lay curled in his lap.

Soft.

Warm.

Content.

Her breathing was steady now. Her body relaxed against his. The fur coat cradled her form, but it was her nearness—herscent—that kept his attention locked in place.

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