Page 93 of Owned By the Hvrok

An incoming signal.

He didn’t move at first. Only listened.

Yes.

A Rovok frequency.

Dulahath had arrived.

Relief flickered across his features.

They would leave this forsaken world.

And once she was safe on Ivokka in his fortress, his domain, he would raze every threat that had ever dared touch her.

The Dukkar. The Kroll. The Nalgar.

All of them would burn.

She had awakened the storm inside him.

And he would become a god of vengeance in her name.

CHAPTER 42

Sylvia stirred to the brush of warm fingers against her cheek.

Kyhin.

He knelt beside her, still blessedly naked, motioning to her with a briskness that cut through the haze of her post-pleasure exhaustion. She blinked, bleary but obedient. His urgency needed no translation.

They had to go.

Of course they did. They’d crashed on an unknown winter planet in the middle of nowhere—why would she argue?

He moved with brutal efficiency, helping her dress. The same strange alien dress clung to her skin again, drawn tight by his deft hands. Then came the furs, rewrapped around her frame with surprising reverence, as if he were armoring something precious.

And then she watched.

As he rose and activated his armor.

Even damaged, it was a sight to behold.

It shimmered over his body in pieces, dark plates shifting and locking into place around his muscled form. He stood there like a war god: deadly, poised, beautiful.

Fuck.

This male was lethal.

And he’d decided to focus his astounding alien intensity solely onher.

She shook her head, breath catching in her throat. He turned and lifted her into his arms again, and this time she didn’t protest.

Why would she?

Her limbs still buzzed with the aftermath of what they’d shared, and there was something lazy, warm, and satisfied curling through her. Despite the sudden pace of action, the alarm in his posture, she felt safe.

That was the problem.

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