Page 29 of Sold to the Nalgar (Stolen From Earth #3)

Z arokh lay still.

Cecilia was curled against him, her cheek pressed to the plane of his chest, her breath soft and even. Her hair spilled over his skin in wild black waves, glinting with a bluish sheen in the low crimson light that filtered through the chamber’s high, angled windows.

He stared at the ceiling, unmoving. Silent.

Around them, the air was thick with the scent of sex and blood and something far more dangerous— contentment .

She had fallen asleep against him.

As if she trusted him.

As if the monster who had dragged her across the stars had become her pillow. Her protector.

His jaw flexed.

She didn’t have a choice. He hadn’t given her one. He’d clouded her thoughts with fear, with longing. With lust. He’d offered her no path but submission—and she’d taken it. Not out of loyalty or desire.

Survival.

And he had taken full advantage of it.

He exhaled slowly, quietly, so as not to disturb the fragile weight of her body draped across his own. His arm was around her waist. He didn’t remember putting it there. But now… he couldn’t bring himself to move it.

He was in too deep.

The rite was done. Her scent was marked by his now, irrevocably. He had claimed her in truth.

A bonding. A sacred thing.

One that should be reserved for a Nalgar mate.

And he had given it to her.

A human .

He’d told himself it would be indulgence. That she would serve a need—blood, pleasure, companionship in the most physical sense.

But now… his blood flowed in her veins.

Not metaphorically. Not spiritually.

Literally.

A smear of it had been enough. Nalgar essence, potent and corrupting, a legacy of genetic dominance and long-dead stars. It would not fade.

It would change her.

Already it had begun. He could sense it. The faint, flickering traces in her scent. The subtle shift in her body’s energy. She would grow stronger. Faster. Her senses would sharpen. Her body would begin to adapt to this world.

To him .

Not strong enough to challenge him—not yet. He was still far too powerful for that. But strong enough to cut . To scar .

He rather liked the idea.

Her mouth, defiant. Her eyes, alight with hatred as she lunged at him with the small blade. That moment when steel had pierced his chest— delightful . The shock in her face when he hadn’t fallen. When he’d only smiled.

That spark inside her.

That fire .

He craved it.

But fire could become a threat. And she would not stay docile. She would grow restless again. Discontented. She would provoke him, test his limits, test hers .

She would try to wound him.

He welcomed it.

But another part of him—quieter, more dangerous—wanted something else now. Something worse.

He wanted her trust .

He wanted her to look at him without fear. To touch him without trembling. To choose him, even in captivity. Even after all he’d done.

He had taken her freedom. He couldn’t give it back.

But maybe…

Maybe he could give her something else.

A purpose. A kingdom. A place at his side, not just in his bed.

He would have to be careful. Calculating. Patient.

She was clever. Fiercely so.

She would see through manipulation.

She already had.

But perhaps that, too, was part of the game. The seduction. Not of her body.

Of her will .

He looked down at her.

Cecilia stirred slightly, her brow creasing. A whisper of discomfort in her dreams. His thumb traced the curve of her hip.

“You will fight me again,” he murmured aloud, voice barely above a breath. “And I’ll let you. Because I’d rather burn than have a caged thing lying at my side.”

He closed his eyes.

You are mine, he thought.

But I want you to choose it.