Page 33 of Sold to the Nalgar
No. It had to be his imagination.
He growled low in his throat, the sound rough and grating in the silence.
He didn’t want herpraise.
He wanted herobedience.
He turned to the wall panel and touched a black sigil.
A narrow drawer slid open.
Inside, nestled against black velvet, was a small crystalline device. Smooth. Palm-sized. Emitting a faint hum of power.
A Majarin translator.
He snatched it up with a flick of his wrist, closing the drawer with a thought.
She would understand him now.
There would be no more confusion. No more hiding behind language.
He would explain her place.
And she would learn—through words, or through pain—that she belonged tohim.
There was no escape. No plea for mercy.
There was only obedience.
And surrender.
CHAPTER 18
She paced the room like a caged animal.
Not far. The space wasn’t exactly sprawling. It was luxurious, yes, in a brutal, monolithic sense, all polished black stone, glimmering metal, and heavy drapes. Alien symbols carved into every surface. But no door she could find. No panel. No obvious wayout.
She pressed her hands to the walls, tried to find seams or hidden panels,anything, but the structure was seamless. Oppressive.
Her throat tightened.
Where would she even go?
If therewasa way out, if she could somehow flee through the halls of this... fortress—or whatever it was—what then? Escape into the unknown? Into the alien wilderness of a planet she didn’t even know the name of?
What was out there?
She didn’t know if the atmosphere was breathable, or if anything outside would be more or less dangerous than what wasinhere. She didn't even know if the landscape was solid ground or a pit of monsters.
At least on Earth, she would have had somewhere to run. A city. A road. A person.
Here?
Here, she didn’t have anything.
Maybe this really is the safest place on the planet for me. And that's saying something.
She curled up again, clutching the robe tighter around herself.
