Page 59 of Bound to the Marak

He raised one hand and gestured to the side. At once, two Yerak guards entered the chamber. Silent, masked, alert. Karian pointed at Nuak.

“Take her. She will live. She will be questioned. And she willanswerfor her actions.”

The guards moved to obey, lifting Nuak to her feet and escorting her out.

Leonie watched her go, pulse still fluttering in her throat.

Karian turned back to her, drawing her close, wrapping his tentacled limbs around her protectively. “I would have ended her for you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I still might. But for now, your word is enough.”

She leaned into his embrace, shaken, but oddly comforted.

For the first time, she realized the extent of his power—not just to destroy, but tochoose not to. And she had been the reason for that choice.

Forty-One

The hum of the ship was a steady, soothing thrum beneath Leonie’s bare feet as she stood at the edge of the viewing pane in the Marak’s private chambers. The stars shimmered outside like tiny needles sewn into the black velvet of space, and ahead, pulsing with unnatural light, loomed the wormhole—an enormous whirl of iridescent energy, swirling like a living storm.

This ship, a sleek leviathan carved of metal and bioluminescent alloy, was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. No human-made craft could endure what lay ahead. Karian’s people—advanced, ancient, secretive—were among the few in the known galaxy who had unlocked safe passage through these violent thresholds of space.

They would be on Earth soon. The thought felt surreal.

She turned from the viewing pane and looked at him.

Karian sat on the reclining platform at the center of the chamber, his long frame draped in loose, silken garments the color of midnight. The blue markings on his chest pulsed faintly with a slow rhythm, dimmed now in the absence of arousal, but still beautiful. His tentacles were relaxed, some coiled around the base of the throne-like seat, others lazily extended across the floor.

This was the Marak’s sanctuary. None dared to enter this place but her.

He watched her, his gaze steady. “You’re quiet,” he said.

Leonie sat beside him, curling her legs beneath her. “I was just thinking about Earth,” she murmured. “It’s strange. I never thought I’d see it again.”

He reached out and wrapped one of his larger tentacles loosely around her waist, pulling her closer with the ease of someone utterly at home with her. “Tell me about it.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “It’s beautiful. The planet itself. Blue and green, full of life. My city—London—is chaotic and crowded. But it has its charm. Mornings smell like fresh bread and car fumes. The air’s cold. People hurry everywhere.”

“And the humans there?” he asked.

“They’re complicated.” She sighed. “Most are good. Kind. They want to love, to connect. But there’s also pain. Poverty. Crime. People hurt each other for no reason. There’s war. Hatred. Selfishness. We’re a mess, honestly.”

Karian was quiet for a while, his gaze distant. “You live surrounded by imperfection and still find beauty in it,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s what makes us human. Our imperfection. It’s what gives us feeling. We break, and we heal. That’s where our art comes from. Our love. Our anger.”

His obsidian eyes narrowed slightly. “On Luxar, I engineered peace. I imposed my will, stripped chaos from the equation. Crime is nearly nonexistent. Poverty was erased by force. No one goes hungry. But sometimes, I wonder what we sacrificed to achieve that order.”

She looked up at him. “Are you regretting it?”

He shook his head. “No. It was necessary. Without my rule, Luxar would have fallen into civil war. The Yerak needed a strong hand. But…”

“But?”

“I look at you,” he said slowly, “and I see something my world has lost. Emotion. Messiness. Fragility. You fight to feel, even when it hurts. And that... is beginning to feel more powerful than control.”

Leonie didn’t know what to say. She reached out and touched his cheek, gently.

“You’re not who I thought you were when I first met you,” she whispered.

He caught her hand in his, pressed a kiss to her palm. “Nor are you. You were a possession. Now, you are... something else.”

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