Page 18 of Sold to the Nalgar (Stolen From Earth #3)

S he paced the room like a caged animal.

Not far. The space wasn’t exactly sprawling. It was luxurious, yes, in a brutal, monolithic sense, all polished black stone, glimmering metal, and heavy drapes. Alien symbols carved into every surface. But no door she could find. No panel. No obvious way out .

She pressed her hands to the walls, tried to find seams or hidden panels, anything , but the structure was seamless. Oppressive.

Her throat tightened.

Where would she even go?

If there was a way out, if she could somehow flee through the halls of this... fortress—or whatever it was—what then? Escape into the unknown? Into the alien wilderness of a planet she didn’t even know the name of?

What was out there?

She didn’t know if the atmosphere was breathable, or if anything outside would be more or less dangerous than what was in here. She didn't even know if the landscape was solid ground or a pit of monsters.

At least on Earth, she would have had somewhere to run. A city. A road. A person.

Here?

Here, she didn’t have anything.

Maybe this really is the safest place on the planet for me. And that's saying something.

She curled up again, clutching the robe tighter around herself.

And then, all of a sudden, he was there, returning like a whisper through shadows.

Her breath caught.

He didn’t clomp or stomp or make any dramatic entrance.

He simply was , his presence consuming the space the moment he entered it.

Smooth and fluid, moving like smoke. Like muscle forged into elegance.

That face—inhuman and sculpted, high-boned and angular—reminded her again of how terrifyingly beautiful he was.

He approached the bed.

She stiffened.

He didn’t speak. He just... lowered himself to sit beside her, silent as ever. She could feel the heat of him through her robe. Smell something faint and mineral on his skin. Her body tensed like a wire pulled taut.

Then he held out his hand.

In his palm… There was a small silver object.

Her eyes widened.

That thing. The one the green bastard had used. She knew it.

The translator.

Her pulse jumped, heart slamming against her ribs.

So... he wanted to talk ?

What did he want to say?

And more terrifying... what did he want her to understand?

She stared at the device, then at him.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure which she feared more.