Page 28 of Sold to the Nalgar
Still no expression. No sound.
He said nothing.
Just… studied her.
As if she were something new. Something he’d never seen before.
A curiosity.
Or a prize.
Her heart beat like a drum in her chest, her breath shallow in her throat.
She hated the way she felt: exposed, cornered, stripped of every ounce of power.
But more than that…
She hated that some part of her—the same part that understood strategy and courtroom performance—told her to stay still. To let him look. To observehimin turn.
Because she was in enemy territory now.
He lifted a hand.
Just that: no words, no sound. But the gesture was unmistakable.
Stay.
Cecilia froze, pulse thudding at the base of her throat.
The command carried no threat. He didn’t point a weapon at her, didn’t touch the collar, or inflict pain. He didn’t need to. The way he moved, the weight of his presence... it told her everything. He was used to being obeyed.
And she wasn’t stupid.
So she stayed.
Then, without another look, he turned and crossed the room. A panel in the wall hissed open at his approach, revealing a darker chamber beyond. He vanished inside, the door sliding silently shut behind him.
Leaving her alone.
The bed was disarmingly soft beneath her, a cruel contrast to the nightmare still tightening around her like a vise. The robe clung to her skin, the collar heavy around her neck, a constant reminder of what she was now.
She looked around slowly.
This wasn’t a prison cell. Not anymore.
It was a bedchamber. Ornate, brutal, intimidating. Purple velvet and black silk. Cold stone and warm light. Alien and strange—but not ugly.
Still, she didn’t relax.
She couldn’t.
The opulence didn’t comfort her. It unnerved her. Every inch of this place whispered possession. Dominance.
She wasn’t a guest.
She was beingkept.
Cecilia pulled her knees up slightly, keeping the robe drawn tight across her body. Her mind whirled with questions she couldn’t answer. Who was he,really? What did he want? Why her?
