Page 28 of Bound to the Marak

Not threatening.

But not comforting either.

He extended the translator toward her.

She took it, reluctantly, fingers brushing his.

Then he gestured to himself.

“Karian,” he said. Not through the device—this time, his voice was unfiltered. Deep and quiet, in the alien tongue, but the way he spoke his name carriedmeaning. Recognition. Identity.

And then?—

His gloved hand lifted.

He reached for the edge of his mask.

Leonie’s breath caught again. She couldn’t stop staring. Her heartbeat surged in her throat.

And he began toremove it.

Sixteen

She hadn’t moved.

The restraints had long since disengaged, whispering away into the frame of the chair, but she remained seated. Rigid. Guarded. Her arms were still drawn tight to her chest, fingers clenched into the thin fabric of her gown. Her legs were pressed together, her shoulders slightly hunched—as though any wrong move might trigger something terrible.

But she didn’t cower.

She didn’t sob.

She looked at him.

And Karian… stood.

Watching her.

Feeling her fear ripple through the air like electric current. It clung to her skin. Scented the room. But beneath it, something else stirred in her. Not hatred. Not despair. Something much sharper.

Defiance.

It fascinated him.

He approached, each step deliberate. The floor beneath him acknowledged his movement with a low, resonant hum.

When he stopped in front of her, the silence grew heavy. Thicker than before. It wasn’t just the ship settling after battle. It was the space between them—the unknown.

He reached up.

Her eyes tracked the movement immediately. She flinched. Her hands twitched at her sides.

But she didn’t stop him.

She didn’t look away.

Slowly, he pressed his fingers to the edge of his mask. The hidden seams parted at his touch, whispering open with a quiet release of pressure. The air touched his skin—cool, clean. For a long moment, he hesitated.

Then he lifted the mask away.

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