Ryxin dipped his head slightly, stepping back with visible reluctance. Good. He understood.
Sylas whirled around, returning his attention to the infuriating, fascinating human female.
“My job doesn’t help me here.” Elsa’s chest heaved, but she stood her ground. The defiance hadn’t quite dimmed. “I don’t have a vessel. Not anymore. I don’t have a way to return home. And from what I’ve gathered, you’re not going to help me, are you?”
Honesty. Direct and unflinching.
Most prisoners begged, bargained, lied about their usefulness. This one simply stated facts and demanded truth in return.
Sylas’s lips curled into something darker than a smile. “I want nothing to do with humans or Earth.” The words came out cold, dismissive. “The only reason I humor the IPA’s meddling is to play my part in keeping the galaxy protected from outside forces.”
He leaned closer, letting his presence loom. “If it were up to me, weak species like yours would be purged. Their planets repurposed for those who can use them properly. Resources shouldn’t be wasted on incompetence.”
“The humans are still trying to correct the damage they’ve caused to their own homeworld,” Ryxin interjected, voice sharp with disdain. “Imagine if the IPA allowed another species to conquer Earth—to preserve the planet and its potential.”
Mia gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “They can’t.”
“They could.” Ryxin’s tone carried boredom, as if discussing weather rather than genocide. “But it wouldn’t be economical. Not worth defying the entire IPA over one struggling planet.”
Sylas waved a dismissive hand, his focus locked on Elsa. “None of that matters. What you should be concerned with, Elsa, is what I should do with you.”
Her jaw tightened. Those bound hands twitched against her ruined gown. “There are only two options for me, aren’tthere?” She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Since you wouldn’t dare place me on a vessel…it’s either the pits or becoming a pet.”
Her boldness pleased him more than it should. Most would dance around the truth, cling to false hope. Elsa cut straight to reality and faced it head-on.
“You’re correct.” His voice dropped to a rumbling purr, satisfaction warming his chest. “But I wouldn’t dare throw you into the pits.”
Confusion flickered across her features. Her brow furrowed. “Then…I guess my fate is to be a pet.” The words came quieter now, confidence wavering. “If I want to live.”
If I want to live.
As if survival was negotiable. As if she had any real choice in the matter.
And yet—her phrasing revealed what Sylas needed to know. She would choose life over death. Would bend rather than break. Would adapt because she possessed the intelligence to recognize when resistance was futile.
Perfect.
His grin widened, predatory and unmistakable. He stepped closer, invading her space until his fur nearly brushed her skin. Close enough to see her pulse hammer in her throat. Close enough to watch her pupils dilate despite the fear.
“Not just any pet.” The words came out low, intimate. Possessive. He reached for another strand of her hair, lifting it between his claws. The texture fascinated him—so different from fur, so soft it barely registered against his pads.
He pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Her scent flooded his senses—sweet, divine,right—and a pleased growl vibrated through his chest.
“Mine,” he murmured against the golden strand. “I will pamper you. Treasure you. Treat you as the prize you are.”
Her breath hitched. Those blue eyes went wide, darting between his face and the hair he held. Fear warred with something else in her expression—resignation, maybe. Or the beginning of acceptance.
Around them, the chamber had gone silent. His Lux Knights watched with rapt attention. Ryxin’s ears swiveled forward, interest piqued. Even Mia had stopped crying long enough to stare.
Good. Let them all witness.
Sylas straightened to his full height, still holding that strand of hair like a tether. He turned his head slightly, addressing the room without looking away from Elsa.
“This human is mine.” His voice carried authority that brooked no argument. “She will be treated as my property. My pet. Anyone who harms her answers to me. Anyone who touches her dies.”
The declaration rang through the throne room, final as a death sentence.
His Lux Knights straightened further, acknowledgment implicit in their posture. Ryxin’s expression shifted to something calculating—measuring, evaluating this unexpected development.