Page 14 of Bound to the Marak

Leonie.

The human.

She moved slowly through the quarters he had prepared for her—barefoot, cautious, still cloaked in the robe his attendants had dressed her in. She looked small among the arching walls and fluid curves of Majarin architecture, a flicker of softness among sweeping metal and bio-light.

She ran her fingers along a shelf—tentatively, then with more confidence. Touched the edges of alien furniture as if to test their reality. She looked around constantly, eyes wide and wary.

He watched her for a long time.

Longer than he intended.

There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved. Clumsy by Yerak standards—her limbs shorter, her gait uneven. But there was elegance there too, in the way she tilted her head, in the subtle grace of her hands, the occasional flutter of her hair when she turned too quickly.

Hair that fell like black silk around her face—wild, unbound, shimmering like oceanweed caught in current.

Her skin was...sun-kissed. That was the word he had learned from Earth’s linguistic data. The light had touched her flesh. A warm, golden hue that felt—alive.Like the surface of her planet: bright, burning, blooming. She was of a wild, living place. One that was blessed with a sun that reached into every corner of its being.

Not like Luxar.

His people had been shaped by darkness. By pressure. The lack of light in the deep had stripped them of pigment, of warmth. Their bodies had grown pale, luminous in places, adapted for survival. But Leonie’s skin told a different story. Not one of survival—but of living.

She was alien in every way.

And yet…

His eyes lingered.

Not just on her face, though he studied it—those wide, expressive eyes, too white, too soft. Her irises were a warm brown, and when she stared into the reflective surface of the room’s paneling, he imagined she was trying to see herself. Trying to make sense of what she was now.

A prisoner. A possession. A novelty, perhaps.

Or something more.

He watched her sit. Stretch. Shift the robe around her like it could protect her. She muttered to herself in her Earth-tongue—soft syllables, strange cadences. He did not know the meaning. But he understood the emotion.

Tension. Frustration. Confusion.

Fear.

She looked up once—at nothing—and sighed. It passed through him. A quiet, aching sound.

And then she lay back on the bed. Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, but her expression changed. Her mouth slackened. Her eyes drifted.

Sleep, at last.

Karian didn’t move.

Hecouldremain like this for hours. Days. The Marak were capable of perfect stillness—like statues carved from power itself. But this wasn’t discipline anymore.

It was fascination.

And beneath it, something else.

His body reacted first. Subtle warmth spread through his core. A thrum in his limbs. His tentacles shifted faintly, betraying arousal he hadn’t felt in many cycles. The last time had been… long ago. Longer than he cared to remember.

Majarin biology did not stir easily.

The Marak even less so.

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