Page 88 of Owned By the Hvrok

He wouldn’t. Not her.

That knowledge only made the tension inside her worse. It coiled into desire, sharp and urgent. He wanted her, and something inside herwantedto be wanted like that.

He stepped closer, saying something low and guttural in his native tongue, his voice all gravel and strain and heat.

A strange realization bloomed inside her. She had power here. Over him.

He was fighting himself, and it was because of her.

Her scent. Her presence.Her.

And in a flash of reckless abandon, she acted.

She rose slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. "Come here," she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t understand the words.

But the tone, the meaning… those were unmistakable, surely.

Some things were universal.

That’s when it happened.

Something inside him broke.

The growl that slipped from his throat wasn’t human. It wasn’t gentle.

Taw. Possessive. Unmistakably his.

And then he was on her, scooping her into his arms with a forceful, desperate grace. Holding her tightly to his chest, his strange armor still warm against her skin.

She gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he carried her swiftly through the ship, down dark corridors until a set of doors slid open, then sealed them in.

The room was quiet. Spartan. Cold light filtered in through a narrow window overlooking the snowstorm.

A bed sat in the corner. There were no sheets, no pillows. Just a thin mattress, the kind made for utility, not comfort.

It didn’t matter.

It was enough.

He set her down gently. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but the furs kept her warm.

Her gaze locked onto his.

The air between them pulsed with heat.

She raised her hand and pressed it lightly to his chest. "Take it off," she said, motioning with her hands. "All of it."

He understood. He had to. Because with a low command, his armor began to retract, just like before—bit by bit, like a living shell, peeling away to reveal the full, impossible truth of him.

And what she saw took her breath away once again, for he was unlike anything she could’ve imagined, and seeing him up close, she couldn’t get enough of him.

She drank him in with her eyes: carved muscle, a form both terrifying and beautiful. Even his wings were bare now: without the deadly layer of metallic armor, and she realized they were covered in soft, leathery feathers, thousands of them.

His wings were folded tightly behind him, as barely restrained as the rest of him.

How magnificent.

How astonishing.

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