Page 27

CHAPTER 27

H e held her until the storm passed.

Until the trembling in her limbs faded. Until her breathing slowed from panicked gasps to shallow, ragged exhales. Until her fists, so pathetically small against his chest plate, stopped trying to strike him and simply… hung there, limp and useless.

Such an extreme reaction.

It was almost disturbing to witness.

He had seen fear before—had smelled it, tasted it in the air of battlefields and auction houses alike. But this—this messy, unfiltered release —was something else. Something uniquely, maddeningly human .

A collapse of control.

At first, he was repulsed. Disgusted, even.

That a being could come apart so easily. That she had so little mastery over her own emotions. Over her own mind.

Weakness.

Feebleness.

But then…

He didn’t stop her.

He should have.

Anyone else who dared touch him—strike him—would have been broken for the offense. Decapitated, even.

But this wasn’t anyone else.

It was her .

And something inside him had registered her actions not as a threat, but as a flare of desperation.

She had needed to burn.

And he had let her.

He didn’t know why.

He still didn’t.

But he could see now—her fear was more than just noise. She had no knowledge of the crash. No knowledge of where they were. No understanding of the ship, or the planet, or even him . She had been strapped down in darkness while the world tore itself apart around her.

Perhaps… this was what fear did to such creatures.

He didn’t have to like it, but now that it had passed, she was different.

Calmer.

Quieter.

Her limbs trembled faintly beneath his grip, but she didn’t pull away. Her skin was warm. Her pulse fluttered through the slender bones of her wrists. And through his filters, he caught another trace of her scent—faint, but persistent.

Still tinged with fear.

But beneath that…

Something else.

Something sweet .

She was beautiful, in her strange, alien way. Golden-haired. Pale-skinned. Those eyes, unnervingly vivid—a kind of blue that shimmered with nuance, softer than his own but no less striking.

He had never touched anything like her.

She was soft . Yielding. Her form was curves and heat and fragility.

And now… she was letting him hold her.

Not resisting. Not pushing away. Not screaming.

He found he liked it… more than he should.

His hands tightened ever so slightly around her wrists, not in dominance, not in warning—but in contact . A silent reassurance. He didn’t know if she could interpret it that way, but… she didn’t flinch.

A part of him wanted more.

To remove the rest of his armor.

To remove his helm .

To look at her with nothing between them.

But that… that would be dangerous.

He couldn’t afford it. Not now. Not here.

Everything had changed.

They were on Anakris—a hostile, predatory world. The ship was damaged. Resources were limited. The Nalgar could discover them at any moment. And the Kroll might still be hunting.

Survival came first.

He released her wrists slowly, deliberately. Her arms lowered, heavy from the emotional crash. She looked at him now with eyes not filled with fury—but something else. Uncertainty. Wariness. A tremble of trust, perhaps, though he dared not name it.

He would need her to stay calm.

While he left to scout.

Food. Water. Salvageable materials. The Lyxai ’s reserves would not last. And until help came—if it did come—they were alone.

He would have to lock her in again.

It was not cruelty.

It was necessity.

He could not risk her panicking, hurting herself, damaging what remained of the ship’s infrastructure. He could not take her with him either—not yet. She would be a target, an anchor.

And if the Nalgar found her alone…

No.

They wouldn’t.

Because they wouldn’t touch her.

He would rip the planet apart before he let that happen.

But she needed to understand.

She needed to trust him.

And he… needed to communicate.

His gaze lingered on her face for one final moment.

I will protect you, he thought. Even if you don’t know it yet.

But this time, he didn’t leave her behind.

Instead, he released her fully, stepped back, and gestured for her to follow.

To come with him.

He led her through the corridor in silence, toward the cockpit—toward the heart of the ship—where he would try, for the first time, to show her something . To see if the nav system could translate even the barest scrap of information—just enough to help her understand.

And as they walked, he heard everything.

Her footsteps—soft, hesitant, barely audible against the corridor floor. The faint rustle of her strange, body-clinging garment. The shallow rasp of her breathing as she followed behind him, quiet but alert.

She was afraid. He could smell it.

But she still followed.

He supposed, for such a defenseless creature, she was... brave. Not suicidal. Not reckless. But not broken either. Even now, collared, captured, and stranded on a hostile world, she kept herself upright. Kept moving. Kept watching him with those wary, jewel-toned eyes.

It was unexpected.

And strangely... admirable.

Under different circumstances—during the predictability of a quiet, stable journey—he would have begun her conditioning already. Not force, but training. Gentle correction. Controlled exposure to his expectations. Letting her adapt slowly, until they reached Ivokka—his home.

A planet forgotten by most. Wild. Unspoiled.

Where his pod-dwelling waited among the verdant meadows and low stone hills. Fortified. Hidden.

Safe.

But now… none of that mattered.

Now they were marooned on Anakris .

He needed her to comply. But not blindly. Not out of fear. That would only invite panic later, when he wasn’t there to restrain it.

She had to understand .

No running.

No defiance.

And above all, no fear that would drive her into the wilds where the Nalgar would scent her blood before the snow even stopped falling.

A low growl vibrated from his chest, audible only to himself beneath the helm.

This was ridiculous . Unplanned. Inefficient.

She wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

They reached the cockpit.

The door opened with a dry hiss, revealing a dim command center lit by the pulsing amber of damage alerts. Holo projections flickered across the console—power failures, depleted reserves, a dozen systems offline.

He stepped aside to let her enter, watching the way she hovered near the threshold.

Then she stepped forward... and saw it.

The window.

The world outside.

Snow-swept peaks stretched endlessly in all directions, jagged mountains rising like white knives. Mist coiled between the cliffs, heavy and slow, and through it, the red sun sank low on the horizon, casting a blood-tinged glow across the landscape. It bled through the vapor like an open wound, staining the snow in shades of rust and crimson.

The light was dying.

Shadows lengthened across the cockpit. The sky deepened into black and violet, swallowing the sun one slow heartbeat at a time.

Darkness was coming. Night on a blood-soaked planet.

He heard the breath leave her lungs.

“Crashed,” she whispered. The word was bleak. Resigned.

He didn’t understand the syllables, but he understood the tone.

She got it.

That scrap of comprehension stirred something deep inside him.

He motioned toward the nav, trying to show her the internal scan. Limited radius. Energy grid failing. Too much interference. No precise coordinates. No clear knowledge of where they were on Anakris, or how close they might be to Nalgar territory.

He needed food. Water. Heat sources. He needed to scout. Soon.

He turned to her again, gesturing to the seat by the wall. Then, he placed his palm against his chest, then against hers—slowly, deliberately.

Stay.

You will be safe here.

He didn’t know her word for safe, but he hoped she would feel it.

Her expression shifted. Still cautious. Still tense.

But... she nodded .

A small motion.

A flicker of understanding.

And that— that —made his body react in a way he hadn’t expected.

The scent of her had changed again. Softer. Warmer. And even through the mask, it coiled into his awareness like heat curling through ice. His pupils narrowed. His hand curled into a fist.

His cock twitched.

He stiffened.

No.

This was not the time.

But her nearness. Her scent. That flicker of comprehension, her willingness to trust him, even just a little …

It was maddening.

Kyhin decided. When they were out of this mess, he would certainly use her for pleasure.

He stepped back from her, forcing space between them.

He would have to hide the ship. Camouflage it against the rock and ice. Lock down the access hatches. If the Nalgar were nearby, they would smell metal, power, warmth. Her.

He would have to move fast.

But first, he had to ensure she wouldn’t panic again.

She had to be calm when he returned.

And if that meant showing her more, teaching her, touching her to soothe instead of command… he would do it.