Page 35

CHAPTER 35

S he had climaxed in his arms.

The soft, stuttering sound of it still echoed in the air between them: barely audible, but seared into his awareness like a brand. Her body had gone soft against him, boneless and shivering, tension melting into warmth. Her breath was uneven. Her pulse fluttered faintly beneath his fingertips.

He had felt it.

All of it.

And it changed something.

Not in her— in him.

He had begun with no intent beyond curiosity. Play. A test. A little game to satisfy his own interests.

He’d observed how she’d responded to his touch back there in her quarters, when she’d railed against him, when he’d used the feeling of his hands against her skin to calm her.

It had surprised him, the way she’d leaned into warmth. The silence when he held her, the tremor of her sighs. So he had wondered… what else might she respond to?

If his goal was to keep her compliant, calm, and warm, then perhaps he could also teach her to associate those feelings with pleasure . A reward, not a punishment. No fear.

That had been the logic.

But logic had abandoned him somewhere between the moment she opened her legs and the moment she shattered in his arms.

Because now…

Now he was gripped by something else.

He stared down at her—this small, soft human draped in fur and heat and trembling afterglow—and he could no longer convince himself she was just a curiosity. Just a possession.

She was exquisite.

Her hair, golden and fine, splayed over his forearm like silk. Her skin, warm and flushed from sensation, glowed faintly in the low light of the cockpit. Her eyes, though closed, he could see them—those gemlike shards of blue. Clear. Unique. Mesmerising.

Her scent, too, had shifted.

Still muted through his mask, but growing stronger.

More complex.

Enticing.

He flexed his fingers against her thigh, unable to stop himself from touching her even now. Her softness was maddening. Addictive. The contrast between her and the cold, brutal world he came from was stark—and soothing .

He had never known anything like her.

Never thought he could .

And yet…

She had let him.

Even when she cursed him under her breath—soft, spiked anger, confusion, disbelief—she had not resisted . Had not pulled away. Had not fought.

She had tensed. Briefly.

He had felt her hesitation.

He had sensed the animosity. The fracture in her trust.

And still… she let him go on.

Because she’d wanted it.

That knowledge settled deep in his chest. Heavy. Satisfying.

And dangerous.

Because he didn’t just enjoy this. He craved it.

He enjoyed having her close. The sound of her breath. The rhythm of her heartbeat. The way she curled against him like he was something safe .

And now… now that he’d touched her like that— given her that—he wanted more.

Not just of her body.

Of her presence. Her attention. Her thoughts.

He wanted to see those jewel-blue eyes open again and look at him. At his face, uncovered, unguarded.

No barriers between them.

Not anymore.

But he still wore his helm.

He wouldn’t remove it. Not yet.

Because if he did, if he allowed her full scent to reach him, if he exposed himself fully to her… he was no longer certain he would maintain control, and it was now that he needed control more than anything else.

When they were here, holed up in the mountains in the encroaching darkness, in the cold.

When the Nalgar could come from anywhere, could attack viciously, in packs—he would have to be ready.

When a communication could reach him at any time, and he would have to have his wits about him, so he wouldn’t get deceived.

He needed to be alert, not mad with lust.

For now, it was enough that she trusted him this far.

Enough that she had given him this.

And he?—

He would protect her, not because she was fragile… but because she was his.

No being in any system would take her from him now.

As he continued to study her quietly, she looked up at him.

He hadn’t expected her to look at him.

Not so soon.

Not like that.

Her face was still flushed—cheeks tinted with the afterheat of release, her lips slightly parted, her skin warm where it pressed against his chest. But her gaze—when it lifted to his helm—was not soft. Not timid.

It was defiant .

Steady. Clear.

There was knowledge in her expression now. A silent challenge. A glimmer that said: I know what I do to you.

How long can you resist me?

He stiffened slightly.

Because her scent had changed again.

It was no longer simply pleasant or intriguing. Now it was intoxicating. Rich. Potent. Layered with satisfaction and something deeper—something primal. The chemical aftermath of pleasure clung to her skin like a second pulse.

Through the helm’s filters, he only caught fragments, and even that was almost too much.

He hadn’t known humans could be like this.

So volatile. So reactive. So potent .

She reached up, hand trembling only slightly, her fingers brushing along the hard plane of his chest, up the center of his sternum—curious, exploratory.

And then…

Her touch found the edge of his helm. The place where skin met metal. The vulnerable seam between his collar and throat.

He froze.

She said something in her language, her words soft, almost coaxing.

He couldn’t understand the words, but he didn’t need to. Her meaning was clear.

She was asking him to remove it.

To show her his face.

He shook his head gently.

And behind the mask, for the first time in what felt like eons?—

He smiled. Because she wanted to see him. She didn’t know what he was—not fully, not what he was capable of… but she would have sensed something.

And still, she wanted to know him.

If only…

But not now. Not yet.

Not while the sky outside bled black and the winds howled like beasts beyond the cliffs. Not while the Nalgar hunted the dark.

He reached up instead, letting his hand settle against the back of her head. Her hair was impossibly soft, like starlight caught in strands. He stroked it gently, slowly.

And murmured the words he hadn’t spoken aloud in a long time. His voice was low, almost reverent in his native tongue.

“ Ka’laa kahan.”

“ Rest now. ”

She stilled.

Her eyes widened. She didn’t understand the words—not truly—but she seemed to understand him .

She blinked slowly, as if trying to stay awake, but exhaustion pulled at her. He could see it clearly now: the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the pallor behind the flush, the way her body sagged heavier against his with each passing moment.

How long has it been since you were allowed to rest, little one?

The thought twisted something cold and quiet in his chest.

He knew what the Dukkar were. What they did.

What they did to females.

The way they’d kept her—collared, objectified, dirtied—it made his blood run cold.

They’d treated her like livestock.

And he’d purchased her with the intention of using her for his amusement, his pleasure, without thought for whether she had free will or not.

He’d purchased her as an object, a toy, something to covet and possess.

And now…

Now she lay in his arms, breathing softly. No longer trembling. No longer resisting.

No longer just a possession. Now, he realized she was a living, breathing, intelligent being, and he wanted to please her again.

And again.

To see her react like this, to have her look at him like this.

All of a sudden, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know her name.

He could give her a name, a Hvrok one, as he’d planned on doing before—but now it felt distasteful to even consider such a thing.

He couldn’t understand how she’d gotten to him so quickly—how she’d caused such a shift in him, to the point where he wanted to destroy the ones that had harmed her.

He would deal with the Dukkar. In time.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she had given him something far more valuable than submission— trust.

He tightened his arm around her as her breathing deepened. Her eyelids fluttered once, twice…

And then she was asleep.

Safe.

In his arms.

And that pleased him more than he would ever admit.