Page 90 of Sold to the Nalgar
Velkar’s head separated from his body in a clean, brutal slice. It rolled across the stone floor with a dullthud, coming to rest at the base of the shattered throne.
Silence fell.
Cecilia stared at the head, at the lifeless eyes that had once glared at her with disdain, and waited for the familiar jolt of horror. For the sharp breath and the cold nausea sheshouldhave felt.
It didn’t come.
Instead, there was only a stillness inside her, a strange clarity that felt like both power and surrender. She wasn’t shocked. Not really. Because this—this blood, this violence—was life here. On this world. Amongst these creatures. It was survival, and it was brutal, and it was honest.
And she was one of them now.
Her gaze shifted to Zarokh as he stood in the middle of the carnage, chest heaving, his black hair soaked with blood and sweat. He looked every inch the warlord—the predator, the ruler—and yet when his crimson gaze slid to hers, something dark and protective burned there.
A wild realization bloomed in her chest.
She would protect him too.
With equal ferocity.
Zarokh turned toward his gathered warriors. His voice, low and edged like a blade, cut through the silence:
“Any who dare stand against me will meet the same fate.” He gestured briefly to Velkar’s head. “But loyalty—” his voice hardened, deepened, “—loyalty will always be rewarded.”
A murmur rippled through the hall. Knees bent. Heads bowed. The blood-soaked warriors of the Nalgar dropped to one knee as one, their gazes fierce and unwavering.
Cecilia felt her heart pound. She wasn’t one of them—not in blood, not yet—but something in her stirred at the sight. Because loyalty meant everything here. It meant survival. And she understood that now.
Zarokh’s gaze found hers again. There was something like pride there, something raw and consuming. He reached out, the gesture subtle but commanding, and she stepped toward him without hesitation.
She was his. And somehow, impossibly, this blood-streaked hall, this world of fire and ruin, felt likehome.
CHAPTER 46
Night draped itself over the stronghold, cool and still, the red sun having slipped beneath the jagged horizon. The fires from the battle had been extinguished, the smoke carried away by the desert wind. Now the halls were quiet, the blood scrubbed from the stone, the bodies gone. Order had been restored.
Cecilia sank into the warm waters of Zarokh’s private baths, the heat seeping into her tired muscles, washing away the stink and grime of the day. Across from her, Zarokh lowered himself into the pool, the water lapping over his broad shoulders. His dark hair was wet and loose, streaming over his back like a black river.
She found her gaze lingering on him—on the hard planes of his chest, the cut of muscle along his arms. She’d admired him before, but now… after watching him fight, after seeing what his body wasmadefor—every brutal, perfect motion—she felt a deep, hungry awe.
“Is this…” she began, her voice softer than she intended, “a regular occurrence for you? Fighting like that?”
Zarokh’s mouth quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. He rolled one shoulder in a lazy shrug, droplets slidingdown his skin. “It happens occasionally.” A beat of silence. “I’m used to it.” His tone carried an almost humorless humor—wry, sharp-edged.
Cecilia shook her head, a breathless laugh slipping out. “That’s insane.”
He moved closer through the water, and then his hands were on her hips, firm and possessive. “This is my life,” he said simply, leaning in. His lips brushed her jaw, her neck, his breath hot against her ear. “And now… it is yours, too.”
Her pulse leapt. She felt the solid warmth of his body, the heat radiating from him, and when his arms came around her, the world outside of this pool ceased to exist. She was naked in his embrace, the water rippling around them.
And beneath the surface, she felt him stir. Both of him.
A shiver ran through her. That hunger—dark and overwhelming—rose in her blood again.
“You were never going to escape me,” he murmured against her throat, his voice low, rough silk. “Now you understand that. Earth is lost to you. Your old life… gone.” His hand slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine. “You haven’t had time to grieve. You will. In time. Perhaps you’ll see that place again, if it’s possible. But you’ll never be the same.”
She swallowed, her breath catching. He was right.
She hadn’t grieved. But she hadaccepted.
