Page 70 of Sold to the Nalgar
He was addicted.
To the taste of her.
To the fury in her gaze.
To the way she hated him—and fucked him anyway.
She was his weakness.
And his greatest fucking conquest.
He brushed the damp hair from her brow, admiring the sharpness of her features, the growing power in her stare.
“You don’t even know what you are yet,” he murmured, voice raw. “But you will. And when you do…”
He smiled darkly.
“You’llthankme.”
CHAPTER 34
The bathroom wasn’t human, but it tried to be.
The fixtures were unfamiliar, carved from obsidian and bone-colored stone, with a shallow basin that lit from beneath when she waved her hand. The mirror—long and seamless—reflected her image with merciless clarity.
Cecilia stared at it. At her.
Same face. Same eyes. Except… not.
The brown in her irises was now flecked with maroon. Not just red—deeper than that. Richer. The same color that shimmered in Zarokh’s eyes when he was hungry. Or aroused.
She leaned closer, pressing her fingers to her temples, then dragging them down to her jaw. Her skin was smoother than it had ever been, almost too perfect. Her pores had vanished. Her hair, once dull and brittle from stress, now gleamed like polished silk, black as ink.
And then—her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, and she saw them.
The canines.
Not human. Not fully. Just slightly longer, sharper, meant for piercing rather than chewing.
Her stomach twisted.
“No,” she whispered, backing away from the mirror. “No, no, no?—”
But there was no denying it.
She’d known something was happening. Her body didn’t ache anymore. Her strength had surged. Her appetite had shifted toward blood-rich meat, and her cravings for him—Zarokh—were like a fire under her skin.
The transformation wasn’t just physical. Her thoughts were different. Sharper. Hungrier.
More animal.
She found herself watching shadows, alert to movement. The scent of blood stirred something primal inside her. Even now, standing here, naked beneath the translucent robes, she couldfeelhim in the other room. Couldsensehis presence like a heat signature etched into her bones.
And she wasn’t afraid.
She should have been.
She should have felt rage—pure, white-hot fury—that he’d forced this change on her. That he’d taken her body and rewritten its code, bent it into something…other.
