Page 12

CHAPTER 12

S he stood there like a statue carved from defiance.

Kyhin didn’t move. Not yet. He had learned long ago—on a hundred battlefields and a hundred blood-soaked planets—that stillness was more powerful than force. And now, here in the quiet chamber of his ship, he wielded that stillness like a weapon.

The human’s blue eyes were wide, but they did not dart or flinch. Instead, they fixed on the collar in his hand, then on him, as though daring him to explain what this was.

She didn’t like it. He could see that plainly.

The current collar around her neck—the slaver’s device—sat heavy and raw against her skin, clearly designed for pain and obedience. It clashed jarringly with her soft form. Even standing tense, guarded, she was still the softest thing he’d seen in a universe made of blades and plasma.

This new collar was different. Deliberately so.

The gemstones embedded in the black alloy caught the light filtering through the viewport, refracting pale blue sparks across the walls. He had chosen it the moment he saw it in the Dukkar trader’s inventory. Not for aesthetics—though it was beautiful—but for what it symbolised.

Power. Ownership. Protection.

And now, the human stood there, breathing shallowly, her jaw clenched. He could see her thoughts racing behind those ocean-bright eyes. Rage, confusion… and fear.

But not terror. Not the kind he was used to seeing.

He wondered if she knew what she looked like—standing barefoot on the dark metal floor, hair tousled from stress, arms tense at her sides, her golden skin flushed with emotion. Her very presence stirred something beneath his skin, something ancient and possessive.

He let the silence hang.

The Hvrok had always known the value of silence. Spoken words were the weapon of the lesser races. Silence was command. Silence was challenge. Silence broke down barriers faster than any threat.

And now, it worked its way into her bones. He could see her shifting slightly. Her lips parted as though she might speak—only to close again. She was not used to being ignored. Her species, he had learned, were noisy. Restless.

But she must learn.

He made a slow, deliberate gesture—one gloved hand rising to tap his own throat. The other held up the new collar. Then he shrugged, tilting his head. A simple message. One or the other. The choice is yours.

Her face twisted. Not in fear. In fury.

She spoke then—a sharp, guttural sound in her alien tongue. A curse, perhaps. He didn’t know the words, but the tone was unmistakable.

Then, without another word, she pointed at the collar in his hand. Her chin raised, her shoulders squared in challenge.

It amused him.

The chuckle escaped before he could stop it—low, deep, edged in something primal. Her reaction was so human. So raw. So… alive.

She would be a handful. But he hadn’t expected less.

He stepped forward, silent as death, the collar still in hand. And as he approached, she didn’t back away. Her defiance remained etched into her posture, but there was something else now—something hesitant flickering behind her stare.

Curiosity.

Good. That, he could work with.

He would train her. Gently, if she allowed it. Firmly, if she did not.

But one thing was already certain.

She was his.

And every being in this galaxy would know it.