Page 41 of Bound to the Marak

Then he nodded once.

Her heart stuttered.

She lifted trembling hands toward his face. Closer now than she'd ever dared. Her fingers found the edge of the mask, cool and smooth, and carefully, she pulled it away.

The mask slipped free with a soft hiss, and she finally saw him.

He’d already revealed himself to her once, but that had been just a brief encounter, and she’d been too shocked to truly register what she saw.

Now, in the silence and stillness of this secret, inner chamber, she reallysawhim.

He was exquisite.

Beautiful in a way no human man had ever been. Pale as moonlight, skin flawless and faintly iridescent. His black eyes held galaxies within them. His ears were pointed, elegant. His hair was long and black as space, falling like silk over his shoulders.

She sucked in a breath.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Her voice faltered. “Beautiful.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You did not think my kind could be?”

“I… don’t know what I thought.”

She felt small beneath that gaze. Exposed. But not in danger. Not this time.

Just seen.

His expression was unreadable for a beat longer—then, ever so slightly, his lips curved.

Not quite a smile.

But something close.

Twenty-Four

She gasped as one of his tentacles slipped beneath her dress and traced the line of her thigh. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt—warm, firm, impossibly smooth—and filled with intention.

And then, something in him snapped.

There was a sharp sound—fabric tearing—and the world tilted.

Her dress was gone.

One moment she was clothed, the next she stood naked in the glow of the bioluminescent chamber, stripped bare before him. Her skin prickled with awareness, with vulnerability. Every inch of her was exposed, her breath shallow, her heart galloping.

He stared at her like a starving man.

Then—something changed.

A pulse of light flickered across his face.

Faint, iridescent markings appeared, almost like glowing tattoos, curling along his high cheekbones and the edges of his jaw. Pale blue, almost the color of ice—but warmer. Alive. They shimmered like breath caught in motion, like something sacred being revealed.

Her breath caught. She didn’t need a translator to know what it meant.

He was aroused.

His tentacles moved then—not frantic, not violent, but slow, deliberate. One wrapped around her calf. Another around her hips. Two more coiled around her arms, lifting her, holding her effortlessly. Within seconds, she was suspended in the air, enveloped entirely in his limbs.

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