Page 18

CHAPTER 18

F or the first time, he saw her.

Truly saw her.

Not clothed. Not half-shrouded in the filth of the trading station. Not flailing with fury or cloaked in pride.

Just her.

A human. Naked.

He had seen the species before, of course. In files, in containment, at auctions. He had studied their skeletal structures, their physiology, their limits. But no document, no scan, no datafeed could have prepared him for the reality of this human female standing before him now.

She was small. Soft. Round where Hvrok were angular. Vulnerable in a way that bordered on unthinkable. No armor. No carapace. No defensive ridges or protective scales. No claws. No fangs.

And no wings.

She was utterly defenseless.

And yet, she stood tall.

Defiant.

She was the most exposed thing in the galaxy right now, and she still glared at him, unflinching. As if she had power here.

Courage without armor. It defied logic.

He scanned her without moving, recording every curve, every detail. Her skin was a soft, warm brown, smooth and supple, unblemished except where faint marks from the collar and bindings remained. Her breasts were full and high, round and pert in a way he had not expected. Between her thighs, a delicate tuft of pale hair. Her legs, her belly, her hips—she had curves his kind did not possess. Not like this.

Hvrok females were built for combat. Hard muscle. Dense bone. Function over form.

But this human?

She was made for softness.

For touch.

Golden hair clung to her shoulders and neck, tousled and damp from sweat and tears. The color struck him anew— gold . Not pale like some humans, not yellowed or bleached, but rich, warm gold. Like starlight.

He’d never seen a shade like it in the breeding cages.

Rare.

Precious.

And beautiful.

The thought struck him unexpectedly. Beautiful .

He wanted to touch her.

Not just out of curiosity. Not even out of dominance.

He wanted to run his hands over her soft, strange skin. To trace the curves of her hips, to feel the shape of her breasts beneath his palms. To learn how she responded .

And then another thought followed, unbidden.

Would she feel pleasure, if I touched her?

The question stunned him.

He had considered her as a source of his pleasure, of course. It was natural. He was dominant. She was his. Her body existed to serve him—her resistance a phase, nothing more.

But her pleasure?

Why should that matter?

Why did the idea stir him?

Her scent distracted him again—a reminder of the station, of Dukkar filth and captivity and fear. It clung to her like oil. It offended him. She smelled wrong . Her body, her skin— his property —still carried traces of others.

That would not do.

And yet— still —she glared.

Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her chin tilted up. Her eyes blazing.

As if she wasn’t naked.

As if she wasn’t his .

How strange. How impossible these humans were.

And suddenly—shockingly—he felt it: the barest slip of his composure.

Interest had become something sharper. He was losing the cool distance he prided himself on, the detachment he used to remain unshakable.

He stepped back.

Out of reach.

Out of the spray zone.

Control. Reassert control.

He raised one hand and gave a quiet command in his native tongue.

The shower hissed to life.

Jets of calibrated mist burst from the wall, adjusting automatically to her physiology—cooler than a Hvrok would require, calibrated to her resting body temperature. Clean, sterile, and softly pressurized.

Water cascaded over her body in sheets.

She startled—but then, slowly, her shoulders eased. Her eyes fluttered closed. She tilted her face into the stream and inhaled deeply, water gliding over her cheeks, down her neck, across her collarbones and breasts.

He watched it slide over the slope of her stomach, down the inside of her thighs.

For a moment—just one moment—she forgot him.

The anger slipped.

Her defiance paused.

And in its place was something simpler.

Peace.

Enjoyment.

Just a breath. A flicker of it. But he saw it.

And he felt it, deep in the pit of something unnameable inside him.

It fascinated him.

She could still find pleasure, even here. Even under his watch. Even after everything.

Perhaps… that was the key.

Perhaps pleasure would bring her to heel faster than fear.

Perhaps, if he learned what made her feel good , she would break more beautifully.

But for now, he simply watched her.

Small. Soft. Slick with water and defiance.

And to his own surprise, he thought…

Magnificent.