Page 38 of Sold to the Nalgar
And he’dtakenher.
She stared at him, eyes burning with fury.
“You don’t care if I fight?” she spat, voice hard, tight. “Fine.”
Something inside her cracked—broke—under the pressure. Her rage, her fear, her utterhelplessness, it surged like a dam bursting, washing over her with blinding heat.
She didn’t think.
She didn’t plan.
Shestruck.
Her palm connected with his cheek in a violent, sharpcrack. Her hand stung with the impact, but the sound—the sound—was satisfying.
A heartbeat of silence.
Cecilia froze.
Zarokh hadn’t moved. His head had turned slightly from the force of it, but now, he straightened.
The smile was gone.
A drop of red glistened on his lip.
She blinked.
It was blood. Not some strange alien shade, butred, like hers. And there—just at the corner of his mouth—was a cut. Sharp. Clean. From her hand.
As quickly as it had appeared,it began to heal. Right in front of her, skin stitching back together with eerie precision, the glimmer of blood vanishing like it had never been there.
Cecilia’s pulse thundered in her ears.
What the actual fuck is he?
She looked up, meeting his gaze.
His red eyes had darkened, pupils dilated, gleaming like molten rubies. Hunger. Danger. Something else she couldn’t name. Something ancient. Terrifying.
“Oh?” he said.
Just one word, but it echoed through the translator, soaked in menace and amusement. And... hunger.
A low chuckle escaped his throat. He licked the last trace of blood from his lower lip.
She could hear her own breath, rasping in her ears, too loud. Her body was rigid, heart hammering against her ribs.
Then, casually, almost gently, he spoke again.
“Now… you are the only being in the universe to strike me unprovoked and survive.”
“It wasn’t unprovoked,” she shot back, voice low and cold.
He tilted his head slightly. “Ah.”
The smallest curve touched the corner of his mouth again. Amused. As if she were something unexpected. Curious.
“Did it make you feel better?” he asked.
