Page 55 of Bound to the Marak

Then he said, “Would you prefer I bring others from your planet here? Humans, for companionship?”

She recoiled. “No. You can’t just take people. That’s not how it works.”

Her horror was genuine. And that, perhaps, was what decided him.

“There is only one solution, then,” he said.

She looked up at him, wary. “What?”

He met her eyes, his obsidian gaze unwavering. “I will take you back to your planet. You will stand beside me. And we will retrieve your creature. Together.”

She gaped at him, stunned. Then whispered, “You’d do that?”

“I will do anything for you,” he said. “You are mine. And that means your pain is mine to resolve.”

She didn’t answer. But the look in her eyes was answer enough.

He would take her home. Not to stay, but to reclaim a piece of her soul.

Even if it meant setting foot on a primitive world that knew nothing of beings like him.

Even if it meant risking exposure.

For her, he would.

Thirty-Eight

The summit station drifted in Luxar’s upper orbit, a black ring of alloy and mindstone carved from ancient asteroid husks. It was neutral ground—sacred, unclaimed, bound by long-ago oaths sworn between rivals.

Karian arrived in silence, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow of the deep. His ship had docked without escort. No procession. No announcements. He did not need ceremony to assert power.

The Circle waited. The chamber was round, its walls paneled with living obsidian that absorbed the heat and sound of emotion. The ceiling opened to the stars beyond, letting their cold gaze bear witness to this meeting.

Three other Marak had gathered.

Vakkar, swathed in crimson and plated gold, sat lazily in his highbacked chair, his crown of spiked horns glinting in the artificial light. His smirk cut across his dark face like a scar.

Akeran, the oldest, bore bone-white armor fused to his flesh, the result of ancient war injuries. His eyes were like twin slits of ice, dispassionate and razor-sharp.

Isen, robed in dark teal, elegant and still, rested his elongated chin on one long, clawed finger. Unlike the others, his expression was thoughtful rather than hostile.

They said nothing at first.

Then Vakkar broke the silence.

“So. It’s true. The Marak of Malvar has taken a human as a consort.” His voice slithered with envy. “Is she soft? Delicate? Curious how the weakest species so easily tamed the coldest of us.”

Karian did not sit.

“I took her from the Dukkar slavers,” he said. “They captured her illegally. She was sold in chains.”

“And you kept her?” Akeran’s voice sharpened. “You claim it wasn’t abduction, yet you did not return her to her people.”

“She is no longer their subject,” Karian said calmly. “She belongs with me.”

Isen leaned forward. “What is she like, Karian? This… Le-o-nie.” He tasted her name slowly. “Do they truly feel emotion as we do? Or is it all mimicry? Flesh responding to impulse?”

“Emotions are real to them,” Karian said. “Sometimes more real than our own.”

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