Page 87 of Sold to the Nalgar
Just his fucking hands, tipped with claws that retracted when not in use.
Like a big cat, a pure predator.
Zarokh spared her no glance. His voice tore through the air, bellowing commands in his guttural language, rallying any Nalgar who could still fight. His blade—no,his hands—moved like weapons forged by war itself.
And then she saw the mother.
A young Nalgar woman crouched under a broken stall, her arms wrapped around a small child. A soldier closed in, weapon raised, and Cecilia’s breath caught—until Zarokh was there. One brutal strike, and the soldier was gone. Zarokh’s hand, bloodied and huge, reached down to lift the mother and child to their feet, pushing them toward safety.
Something shifted in Cecilia’s chest.
This wasn’t just a man fighting for power. This was a warlord trying toprotect.
Then she saw another soldier. Behind him. Creeping through the chaos with a blade drawn. Zarokh didn’t see him. He was too busy shielding a crowd of Nalgar civilians.
She didn’t think.
Shemoved.
Her body slammed into the soldier’s back. He roared, twisting, and they both hit the ground. His armor was heavy, his strength brutal, but her nails raked across his exposed skin, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. He screamed, but not before his blade caught her side.
White-hot pain seared through her.
Then Zarokh’s roar—deep, feral,devastating—ripped through the square. The soldier was yanked off her like a rag doll. Cecilia’s vision blurred just in time to see Zarokh’s hands twist andtear. The man’s head came free with a wet snap, and Zarokh hurled it into the dust.
He dropped to his knees beside her, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
“You will not die,” he snarled, his voice raw and dark. “Not now. Not with my blood.”
She blinked at him, disoriented, confused. He tilted his head, baring his throat to her.
It was an offering.
A command.
Her breath hitched. Around them, the battle slowed, a strange hush sweeping through the square. The Nalgar were watching, as if this moment meant something she couldn’t comprehend.
“Drink,” Zarokh ordered, his voice low and electric.
Her mind screamedno, but her body… her body leaned in. Her lips brushed his skin, warm and battle-hot. She could feel the pulse there, hammering like a drumbeat.
And then she bit.
Once again, the taste hit her like fire. Sweet. Dark. Addictive. Nothing on Earth had ever tasted like this—rich and electric, like drinking raw power. She wouldnevertire of this. It would never cease to be this addictive, this shocking. She moaned against him, her fingers clutching at his arm as she drank. Zarokh growled, his massive hands steadying her, his entire body taut with something between fury and surrender.
When she finally pulled back, blood wet on her lips, the world sharpened. Her pain was gone. Every sense stretched wide open. She could see every flicker of flame, hear the clash of blades half a street away.
Zarokh smiled a mad, brutal, beautiful smile, baring his fangs.
There was pride in his expression, and something else. Something deeper than lust, than love, even.
Something purelyalien.
Cecilia’s pulse thundered, but fear was no longer there. Something hotter and wilder had taken its place.
“Come,” Zarokh growled, rising and pulling her to her feet. “We take back what is mine.”
And when they moved, storming through the ruins together with an army of Nalgar falling in behind them, Cecilia realized a terrifying truth.
