Chapter 5
Sylas
Sylas released the strand of golden hair, letting it slip through his claws. The scent lingered—sweet, intoxicating, impossible to ignore. His chest rumbled with satisfaction he didn’t bother suppressing.
Mine.
The thought settled into his bones with certainty. This human, with her defiant chin and Frosted Tears perfume, belonged to him. Not because she’d been delivered to his throne room in chains. Not because she’d crashed on his planet.
Because Lux herself had marked her for him.
He stepped back, creating space between them while his mind worked through logistics. The scent made him want to act—claim her immediately, drag her to his chambers, ensure no other male could even think about touching what was his.
But he was Alpha King. Control defined him. Distinguished him from the feral creatures in the pits, from The Fallen who’d lost themselves to Moon Tear madness.
He would claim her properly. Publicly. In a way that left no room for challenge.
“What are your skills, Elsa?” His voice came out rougher than intended, still affected by her proximity. He cleared his throat, forcing authority back into his tone. “What job did you have aboard your vessel?”
Elsa’s lips twitched—bitter amusement flickering across her features. She looked away for a moment, gaze distant. “I was told I make a mean tea.” A sigh escaped her. “Though I preferred crafting bubble tea—playful and fun. But that skill is completely useless on this planet.”
Her attention shifted to the high windows, to the alien sky beyond. “I was the navigator. My job was to keep the Stardancer on route, following its itinerary.”
Navigator.
Sylas’s interest sharpened like a claw finding its point. Not a passenger. Not some decorative civilian. A navigator. Someone who understood star charts, trajectory calculations, the mathematics of void travel.
Potentially valuable after all.
He followed her gaze to the windows, then back to her face. “A navigator.” The word rolled off his tongue, testing it. “Then you must not be a very good one, considering you’ve landed in my territory.”
Her head snapped toward him, fury blazing in those blue eyes. The transformation was immediate—from distant contemplation to white-hot anger that made her scent spike, growing richer.
“My directions were correct.” The words came out sharp, clipped. Each syllable a small act of defiance. “It wasn’t me who led us off course. It was my captain—my foolish, arrogant captain.”
She trembled now, but not from fear. Rage vibrated through her frame, barely contained.
“He wanted to push the limits. Go down in history as the first pleasure ship to leave the sol system.” Her voice cracked but she pressed on. “I told him it was a mistake. He didn’t listen. He locked me out of the bridge, took away my access card, forced me to act like a civilian.”
Her bound hands clenched into fists. “I had to sit through that damn wedding while they tore through the charts I’d prepared, disregarding every warning. Every single one.”
The fire in her eyes captivated him. This wasn’t the broken sobbing of Mia. This was fury—righteous, burning, alive. Her scent shifted with her anger, becoming headier, warmer. Like nightblooms opening under moonlight.
Sylas inhaled subtly, savoring it.
Behind him, Ryxin stepped forward. His brother’s growl reverberated through the chamber, protective and commanding. “Watch your tone. You are speaking to the Alpha King, and you will show respect.”
Mia let out a sharp, panicked screech, stumbling backward. But Elsa held her ground, jaw set despite the new threat.
“Enough.” Sylas raised one clawed hand, stepping between Ryxin and the golden female. Shielding her from his brother’s wrath. “I am perfectly capable of speaking with her without your help.”
Ryxin hesitated, frown deepening. “But she—”
Sylas turned, hackles rising, every line of his body issuing challenge. His brother was strong, honorable, deadly. But he was not Alpha King.
The reminder hung unspoken in the air between them.
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’t there?” 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.
Xar stepped forward, the green-eyed captain’s muzzle pulling into what might have been approval. “A wise choice, my king. The weak one?” He gestured toward Mia with casual dismissal. “She goes to Healer Yarx as planned?”
“Yes.” Sylas released Elsa’s hair finally, though his claws lingered near her face. “Mia will work off her debt assisting with medical duties. If she proves useful, she lives. If not...” He let the threat hang unfinished.
Mia whimpered but nodded frantically. “I’ll work hard. I promise. I won’t disappoint you.”
“See that you don’t.” He barely glanced at her, his attention drawn inexorably back to the golden female.
Elsa stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Not submission—she hadn’t broken enough for that. Not quite defiance either, though the spark remained banked behind her eyes.
Calculation. She was thinking, planning, adapting to this new reality he’d forced upon her.
Smart female.
“What does being your…pet…entail?” The question came carefully. Measured. As if she was negotiating terms of surrender rather than accepting captivity.
Sylas’s grin sharpened. “You’ll live in my chambers. Eat what I provide. Wear what I choose. Go where I permit.” Each statement was a claim, a boundary established. “You will not leave without my permission. You will not speak to other males without my presence. You will obey.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.