Page 38 of Bound to the Marak

He inclined his head, accepting that—for now.

“But first,” she added, “you need to teach me. Your language. Your culture. Your customs. What’s expected of me in this place.”

Karian blinked slowly. Her voice did not tremble. Her request—no, demand—was made with full awareness of her position. Not as an equal. Not yet. But as someone who refused to be ruled by ignorance. It impressed him.

And intrigued him.

He could sense it then, clearly: part of her still dreamed of returning to her home world. Still fantasized that this might somehow be undone. That one day, she would wake up in her bed on Earth, and this would be nothing more than a vivid nightmare.

But another part of her was already adapting. Making peace with the unthinkable. She had not broken—she hadadjusted. That, more than anything, made her worthy.

He spoke slowly, with deliberate calm. “You will have that knowledge. My language, my culture, my world—I will teach you everything. And in return, you will give me what I desire.”

She didn’t flinch. But he could feel the pulse of resistance still fluttering inside her.

“I can be patient, Leonie,” he said. “You are safe here. Nothing will harm you. No one will defy you. You will be honored. Worshipped. Treated as a goddess.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

“But you must give yourself to me. To my needs.”

Something in him stirred then. His body. His blood.

Patience.

He had always prided himself on it. He had waited years to crush the Tixan. He had waited through decades of isolation to reclaim control of Malvar. But now—now he burned.

His control frayed with every heartbeat.

Was it the scent of her skin? The way she looked at him without trembling? The way shechallengedhim, instead of crumpling?

Majarin were not immune to desire. Their biology had not shed its primal edges. And Karian, for all his dominance and divinity, was not immune to need.

She was here. Close. And every second he waited only fed the storm inside him.

He rose from his seat in the transport craft, towering above her. His voice was calm, but charged with tension.

“I will take you to the Inner Sanctum.”

She blinked, uncertain.

“There,” he said, “you will understand. You willfeelwhat it means to belong here. To belong to me.”

His tentacles moved, slow and deliberate beneath his robes, restrained—for now.

She stared at him, and for a moment, he swore he saw the flicker of something dangerous in her gaze.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

Twenty-Two

“Come,” Karian said, his voice like silk over steel as the craft shuddered slightly beneath their feet.

Without hesitation, he reached for her hand.

The gesture shouldn’t have meant anything. He was still wearing his glove—sleek, black, finely woven into his elaborate attire—but even through that barrier, she could feel his heat. Not just warmth.Heat. Like touching something alive with power beneath its surface.

---