Her hands twitched against the cuffs, fingers curling as if resisting the urge to form fists.
Sylas bit back a chuckle. Adorable. This weak species attempting to appear strong, to challenge him with questions and posture when she had no power whatsoever.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” she said, shifting her stance. “Forcing humans to endure trials like that. Your species is clearly stronger. Equipped to handle whatever—”
“Fair?” Sylas interrupted, grin widening to flash teeth. The word tasted bitter on his tongue. “This isn’t a matter of fairness. It’s survival.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a growl. “You shouldn’t worry unless one of those pathetic males was your mate. If they were foolish enough to harm you, perhaps they deserve what’s coming.”
She shook her head quickly. “I barely know them.”
Satisfaction flickered in his chest. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” His grin widened. “Not yet. Not until I decide whatyourworth is.”
He began to circle her again, slower this time. Deliberate. The way a hunter stalked prey—evaluating weaknesses, measuring potential.
Behind her, Mia stumbled back immediately, nearly tripping in her haste to avoid him. The golden one remained still, chin high, fists clenched in her ruined gown.
Sylas’s gaze roamed over her with clinical assessment.
The gown was wrinkled, dirtied with ash and impact stains. Her hair was wild, unkempt—strands sticking out in everydirection like a feral beast’s mane. Even he knew humans preferred to appear groomed, yet this one looked half-savage.
Bruises darkened her pale skin along one shoulder, faint but visible. The rest of her appeared intact, though he’d need a thorough inspection to be certain. If he was going to claim her as property, he needed to know exactly what condition she was in.
She was far too thin by Yzefrxyl standards. Almost gaunt. On one of his females, her frame would suggest adolescence rather than full maturity.
But herscent—
Sylas inhaled, and the world narrowed.
Rich. Distinct. Like the fields of Frosted Tears that bloomed during the short warm months when the Mother Moon graced them with her closeness. Those delicate white blossoms with their bell-shaped petals and sweet fragrance carpeted the thin forests, a gift from Lux herself. A sign of blessing.
This human—this frail, furless, alien creature—carried that scent. It clung to her skin like a divine offering, wrapping around his senses and refusing to let go.
A prize.
A treasure fit only for an Alpha King.
No one else would take her. He wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t throw her into the pits where the desperate and violent could catch even a trace of this perfection. Those feral enough to fight for survival didn’t deserve such sweetness in their presence.
No. This scent wasn’t meant for anyone else.
It was made for him—the Alpha King, Champion of Lux, blessed by the Great Snow Beast herself.
His claws flexed. He reached out, lifting a strand of her golden hair between his fingers. The texture was softer than expected, finer than any fur. He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
Her scent filled him completely. Sweet and heady andright.
A pleased growl rumbled in his chest, low and satisfied.
“What’s your name?”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower. Her chin lifted further, defiance shining in those ice-blue eyes as she met his gaze directly.
“Elsa.”
The name rolled off her tongue, crisp and clear. No hesitation. No submission.
A smile curved his lips, slow and predatory. “Elsa.” He repeated it, testing the sound. Letting it settle in his mind alongside that intoxicating scent. “Fitting.”
He couldn’t let anyone else have her. Wouldn’t. She was his now, whether she knew it yet or not.