Page 24 of Sold to the Nalgar (Stolen From Earth #3)

Z arokh dined alone.

The chamber was cavernous, silent but for the low crackle of flames in wall sconces.

Crimson light bled across the black stone walls, casting long shadows.

He sat at the head of the war table, a solitary figure amid cold grandeur.

The cut of meat on his plate was thick, seared rare, still steaming from the fire pit.

A chalice sat nearby, filled with dark, iron-rich blood drawn from the spinebeasts that roamed the upper crags.

He barely tasted any of it.

Her blood still lingered on his tongue. Sweet. Rich with the chemical traces of climax, fear, adrenaline. Alive.

His jaw flexed.

He hadn’t meant to give her his . But he had. A smear of it, brushed across her lips with his thumb after feeding. An impulse. A mistake.

If Velkar knew…

He set the chalice down just as the heavy doors hissed open.

Velkar entered like a storm—shoulders tense, boots loud on stone, his face carved into a permanent scowl. He didn’t bow. No need. He was the only one allowed that much leeway.

Still, Zarokh’s gaze snapped to him like a predator scenting provocation.

Velkar halted two paces from the table. “He’s moving again.”

Zarokh arched a brow. “Vuvak.”

“Who else?” Velkar’s mouth twisted. “He’s pulled in three minor clans. Raiders. Scum. A few mercenaries from the eastern rims. The coward’s trying to build himself an army out of refuse.”

Zarokh didn’t blink. “Let him.”

Velkar slammed a fist to his chest. “We should strike now. Before he gains momentum.”

Zarokh rose from the table, slow and deliberate, like something ancient waking. The air seemed to constrict around him. “We?”

Velkar stilled.

Zarokh stepped forward. The force of him was tangible—power that needed no shouting, no bluster. Just presence. “You think I need your permission to put down a traitorous wretch like Vuvak?”

“No,” Velkar said, voice low, steady. “But I think you’re distracted.”

A silence followed—long, heavy.

Then Zarokh smiled. A cold, thin-lipped thing. “Careful.”

Velkar didn’t flinch. “You’ve taken a human, warlord. That alone raises questions. You’re keeping her in your sanctum like a jewel, while Vuvak sharpens his blades.”

“And?”

“She’s… soft,” Velkar said with something like disdain. “Fragile. Your attention to her—it’s not normal. Not for us.”

Zarokh’s eyes gleamed like twin red suns. “You forget yourself.”

Velkar stiffened, but didn’t retreat. “I speak only truth.”

“The truth,” Zarokh murmured, circling the table slowly, “is that Vuvak is a pig with delusions of royalty. A bloated carcass playing dress-up in stolen armor. When I decide to crush him, it won’t take an army.

It’ll take one strike. One night. And I’ll mount what’s left of him on the city gates as a warning. ”

Velkar’s jaw clenched, but he inclined his head. “Very well.”

Zarokh stopped at the far end of the table. “The human is mine. That should be the end of it.”

Velkar turned to leave, then hesitated. “Just don’t forget what we are, Zarokh. We are not gentle. We do not keep pets.”

The door slid shut behind him.

Zarokh stood in silence for a moment.

He doesn’t know. Not yet. That a sliver of Zarokh’s blood now flowed in the human’s body. That her scent—her skin, her reactions—had stirred something more dangerous than lust.

He clenched a fist, breathing deeply through his nose.

He’d deal with Vuvak soon. Personally.

But first, he needed to decide what the hell he was going to do about her .