Exclusive Possession – CH 004

Chapter 4. His Palm

I stood at the door of the infirmary, panting heavily.

I left Mop in the room and ran over with my gun. A minute, or two, had passed—this was my last chance before he boarded the ship.

On the right side of the tightly closed hatch, a palm-sized LCD keyboard glowed with a soft blue light. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

When Mop locked the door earlier, the last two digits of the code were 2 and 5. Considering that this spaceship was a gift to me, I thought I had figured out the code.

I quickly typed in eight digits—my birthdate.

With a soft “thump,” the door clicked shut, and my heart leaped with joy—I guessed right!

I grabbed the doorknob, about to turn it forcefully, when I suddenly heard a muffled “whoosh” sound, as if it came from a very far place, or as if the floor beneath my feet was shaking.

A cold sweat broke out on my back.

Because the surroundings suddenly darkened.

I turned around and saw that the entire corridor was dark and indistinct; everything within sight was pitch black. Only the faint starlight from the narrow window shone in, bringing a few pitiful rays of light.

The power was out.

That’s when I realized what was happening. I immediately tried to turn the doorknob, and sure enough, I couldn’t.

I stood there, stunned, my feelings a mixture of grief and indignation. Just one door away, and all hope of escape had vanished.

Without a doubt, he must have used some method to cut off the spaceship’s power supply. He anticipated what I would do and swiftly blocked it, leaving me no chance.

I stood there for only a few seconds before turning and leaving. The pain in my head was intensifying, and I could feel drops of blood trickling down my cheek. Some of it slid into my neck, feeling sticky and uncomfortable; some fell directly to the ground, making a soft cracking sound.

I walked forward in a daze, not knowing where I was going. I knew he would find me, but I was unwilling to give up. I didn’t want to stand there like a fool or a stray dog, waiting for him to come.

Later, I got so dizzy that I randomly picked an open hatch and went inside.

The room was pitch black. I took a few steps and bumped into something hard. I reached out and touched it, vaguely recognizing it as a large iron frame. I held onto it and slowly walked forward for a while, then slid down along the cold wall and sat down, feeling lost and sad.

It was so dark and quiet all around. My head was throbbing, and I was dizzy. I hadn’t slept at all in the room, and now my eyelids were drooping. I pressed my face against the cold, hard wall, thinking I’d just sleep for a few minutes. But as soon as I closed my eyes, I lost consciousness.

“Whoosh—” Another dull sound rang out, jolting me awake.

I opened my eyes, and my vision was bright.

Power supply had been restored.

This meant… he boarded the ship.

The surroundings were still quiet. I gripped the gun tightly, my hands sweaty.

As far as the eye could see, there were more than a dozen identical, tall metal racks, each filled with silver metal boxes, piled up to the ceiling. This must be the spaceship’s storage room.

I was sitting between the metal rack and the wall on the right side of the entrance, at the end of the narrow corridor. There were a few drops of wet red blood on the ground at my feet, which meant I had only been unconscious for a short while.

I didn’t know what to do next. Giving in was shameful, but resisting was foolish. I was in a dilemma.

Just then, footsteps approached from the doorway. Clear and steady.

I held my breath, moved myself very slowly behind the metal rack, stood up silently, and only showed my eyes looking at the doorway.

From my perspective, the first thing I saw was a pair of shiny black boots stepping in, followed by two long, straight legs and a slender waist. A tall, imposing man stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

I was extremely nervous, and I wiped the blood from my eyes hard to make myself see more clearly.

Was it him?

The man wore a flat, dark gray military cap and a light gray military uniform. His skin appeared somewhat pale under the light, with deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and thin red lips; he looked very handsome, clean, and refined.

The most striking feature of his face was his pair of softly shaped eyes. His dark pupils seemed veiled in a misty haze, giving them a cool and aloof appearance.

Was it him?

It shouldn’t be him. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Although I had never seen the man’s face, I remembered his eyes were golden, while the man before me had black hair and black eyes. Moreover, this man had delicate features, unlike the man I’d met before—he was so assertive and composed; in my imagination, he should have had tanned skin, sharp features, and a cold, imposing aura. Not the man before me, handsome and refined, even pale and somewhat sinister.

I thought he must be an officer who followed the Commander.

He had been staring straight ahead, but as if he had noticed me peeping, he suddenly turned his head. I immediately shrank back behind the shelf and held my breath.

After a while, I heard him walking in my direction.

The footsteps grew closer, my heart leaped into my throat, and I desperately waited until I saw his silver epaulets peeking out from beside the shelf—I rushed out as fast as I could, gun pointed at him.

I didn’t like this feeling at all—pointing a murder weapon at another person—but I had no other choice.

He stood about four or five steps away from me, his hands still in his pockets, watching me quietly, seemingly unsurprised by my presence. Compared to him, I was much more nervous, my breathing was very rapid, and my hand holding the gun was trembling slightly.

“Don’t move, don’t make a sound,” I whispered.

He didn’t move or make a sound; he just silently stared at me.

I breathed a slight sigh of relief. Closer now, I could see him more clearly. His hat brim was pulled low, and his short, black hair clung tightly to his temples and ears. His face wasn’t long or square; its contours were even and soft, but the lines of his jaw were quite strong. His features were indeed handsome but not effeminate; they simply gave him a refined and sharp appearance.

“Has the Commander boarded the ship yet?” I asked him.

This time he nodded. Although it was the answer I expected, my heart still sank.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do as I say, and everything will be alright.” I tried to control my voice, making it sound calm and steady. “Put your hands behind your head, turn around, and we will go to the infirmary.”

But he didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on my forehead. He actually took out a snow-white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.

Then I remembered that my head was still injured, and I probably looked quite disheveled and miserable. No wonder he handed me a handkerchief—I didn’t expect this stranger to be so kind.

“Thank you…no need,” I said reflexively, then immediately thought, what kind of time was this to be thanking people?

Suddenly, he stepped forward and pressed his handkerchief to my forehead.

The soft, cool fabric pressed against the wound; it hurt a little but felt very comfortable. I freed one hand to take the handkerchief and pressed it against the wound myself, then turned my head away from his touch, saying, “This is fine; don’t move around anymore.”

He suddenly smiled.

Those once emotionless eyes became thoughtful. A faint smile appeared on his thin lips. And his delicate, almost pale face seemed to gain a vibrant and radiant color because of that little smile.

I was stunned.

Following his eyes, I saw a faint bruise on his right forehead. His hand, hanging at his side, wore a snow-white glove. Now, a trace of my blood stained the glove, the red and white contrasting starkly.

I felt a lump in my throat. How could this be? Weren’t his eyes golden? But then there were the gloves and the bruises on his cheek from where I kicked him…

“Still running?”

His tone was cool and aloof, his voice clear and clean, like a gentle stream of water flowing past the ear.

But that familiar voice was like a bolt from the blue for me.

It really was him.

Looking at his aloof face, the first image that flashed into my mind was our bodies entangled in a frenzied struggle. I could almost hear him again that night, his muffled groans and my rapid breathing.

I felt nauseous and instinctively raised my gun to aim at his head. I didn’t want to kill him, and I couldn’t kill him anyway, but at that moment, it seemed that only this action gave me a sense of security and protected me from his advances.

However, I discovered something even more terrifying.

I couldn’t move.

My hand froze in mid-air, unable to move.

It wasn’t numbness or weakness; my arm felt like it was being bound by something invisible. I struggled desperately but could only tremble violently and couldn’t move an inch.

I was stunned by this bizarre fact. I looked up at him in a panic, but his gaze was calm and gentle, showing no sign of anything amiss.

“How could this happen?” I asked in a trembling voice.

He didn’t answer but simply took a step forward.

“Ah!” I screamed.

Because something even more terrifying happened, my whole body automatically moved backward, crashing into the wall as if someone had pushed me backward. I could still feel my body and limbs, but I was pinned to the wall by something and couldn’t move at all.

But he didn’t reach out at all! He just looked at me, his eyes cold and indifferent.

But my gut feeling told me that he did it.

“What did you do?” I asked him.

He smiled slightly and stopped in front of me.

He took the gun first, then the handkerchief from my hand, and began to dab it with the blood from my forehead. Because we were so close, his breath was on my forehead, soft and itchy, and it gave me goosebumps all over.

How did he do that? It was terrifying. Was it some kind of stealth weapon?

Thinking about this, a term suddenly popped into my head: “mental power.”

In the information Mop imported for me, there was the term “spiritual power,” but no detailed information. It seemed that on Stan, there were extremely rare people who could control spiritual power—their brainwaves could achieve a rare resonance with the planet’s magnetic field, forming an invisible stream of particles that could perform certain actions without lifting a finger.

Could he be one of them?

Suddenly, his hand stopped on my forehead. I didn’t know what he wanted to do. When I looked up, I saw him staring at me, his cold and gloomy eyes very… focused?

My heart suddenly started racing, and then I saw him lower his head.

He kissed me deeply.

A distant yet familiar cool scent filled my mouth, and a cold, powerful tongue resolutely pried open my lips. Contrary to his refined appearance, his licking and sucking were quite forceful and fierce, entwining with my tongue relentlessly. I desperately shook my head to try and escape, but he pressed my head firmly against the wall, making it impossible for me to move an inch. I dared not bite him, afraid of angering him and causing everything to escalate even faster.

His kisses deepened and intensified until I felt breathless and my body inexplicably heated up. Then he pressed his entire body against mine, holding me tightly in his arms until we were pressed together. Soon, I felt that hot, hard object against my waist, and my whole body stiffened.

However, he just pressed me down without making any further moves.

It was a long time before he released me, his face still very close, his once calm eyes now dark and brooding. Even with my pitifully little experience, I could see the surging lust in his eyes.

“Behave yourself as my woman and don’t cause any more trouble.” He stared at me, his voice low and husky, his tone arrogant.

I was still slightly out of breath, perhaps because of the lack of oxygen earlier, and my mind was also foggy. Shame, fear, disgust, helplessness… A multitude of emotions surged into my heart, making it hard for me to breathe.

But hearing his words, no matter how upset I was, I couldn’t remain silent. Even though he probably wouldn’t listen to what I had to say.

I looked into his eyes: “I know that what you did to me back then was out of desperation, that you had your reasons. And now you want to marry me out of the loyalty custom of the beastmen.”

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, but he remained silent.

I continued, “Have you ever considered that fidelity only has meaning when it is based on love? You don’t need to be faithful to a physical body; you can easily find another woman who is more suitable for you. True fidelity is when you truly love each other. Forcing things like this won’t work for either of us… Ah!”

I gasped in surprise as he suddenly scooped me up in his arms and walked out with a cold expression.

I had no idea what he was thinking, and I felt uneasy. My face was pressed against the cold fabric of his military uniform, and I could even hear his steady, powerful heartbeat. This feeling was quite uncomfortable.

He remained silent, staring straight ahead. Only when he reached the door did he glance down at me and say calmly, “I refuse to change people.”