Page 26 of Sold to the Nalgar
He had found it…pleasing.
Endearing.
Brave little thing.
TheTurakbegan its final descent, skimming low over the crimson ridgelines. Wind howled across the cliffs. The towers ofKavarenthrose high ahead.
Zarokh leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly as the landing protocol engaged.
His fingers flexed.
He could not wait to get her inside.
Into his private chambers, where nobody dared step but him. Where he had never brought another.
Where the walls would hold her screams.
And no one else would ever touch her again.
CHAPTER 14
He carried her like she weighed nothing.
One arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back, his body hard, cold, inhuman beneath the smooth armor. She didn’t struggle. What would be the point? His grip was secure, not cruel, but unyielding. There was no room for resistance, not without hurting herself in the process.
Her mind reeled with everything that had happened—the escape from the damaged ship, the way he’d severed her restraints with that humming red blade, then scooped her into his arms like she was some fragile thing worth saving.
And the landing…god.
She remembered staring through the cockpit glass, too stunned to speak. Below them, a settlement unfolded—no, a city—like something from a dystopian dream. Tall, angular buildings rose in jagged clusters, dark stone and pulsing metal veins giving the structures an eerie, living feel. The style reminded her of brutalist architecture back on Earth—cold, imposing, oppressive.
Yet surrounding that bleakness, there was beauty.
She’d glimpsed shimmering rivers, snow-dusted mountains, thick green forests untouched by civilization. Nature, raw and wild and breathtaking.
Then they’d descended into the heart of the stone city, landing atop a massive parapet that jutted out from the largest building—his stronghold, she guessed. A palace? A fortress? A fucking alien castle?
Now they were inside.
And he was carrying her through vast corridors lined in stone and steel. The ceilings arched high above them, the hallways lit with soft, ambient lights embedded into the walls. No torches, no windows. Just a sterile glow that made her feel even more removed from everything she’d known.
They didn’t pass a single soul. No guards. No servants. No one at all.
It was just him.
And her.
She felt his silence more than heard it. The kind of silence that dripped with power. He didn’t need to bark orders or issue threats—his very presence said enough.
She clung to the thin robe wrapped around her, acutely aware of her bare legs, her nakedness beneath the soft fabric. The thick collar still circled her throat, smooth and foreign and humming faintly against her skin.
Panic simmered beneath the surface.
Why wasn’t she fighting? Screaming? Demanding answers?
Because the truth was, she was terrified.
He hadn’t hurt her. Not yet. But there was something worse than pain in this—thishelplessness. This complete and utter loss of control. Being carried like a possession by someone so much bigger, stronger—alien—and having no say in where she was going or what would happen next.
