Page 59 of Claimed By the Vykan
She drifted awake slowly, hovering in that warm, blurred space where the edges of her thoughts were soft and her body still remembered everything he had done to it. Kyrax’s scent clung to the sheets—metallic heat, smoke, something dark and undeniably male—and she let herself breathe it in, letting the memory settle into her bones.
The bed was enormous, designed for a being far larger than a human, but she had slept curled against his chest, wrapped in the steady weight of him. Now she lifted her hand to the warm hollow he had left on the mattress. His presence lingered in the air like a signature the room had memorised.
He was gone, but the absence didn’t feel like abandonment. It felt like movement—like he had stepped away only moments ago.
If she reached inward, there was a subtle pulse, something not quite physical and not quite imagined. A tug, soft as breath.
He isn’t far.
She sat up slowly, pulling the silken sheet around herself, and blinked until the dim violet light of his chamber steadied. The ceiling above her glimmered faintly, threads ofbioluminescent stone shifting in slow waves, cradling the room in a kind of living twilight.
Suddenly, she felt a rush beneath her ribs, and a prickle along her spine.
The bond stirred.
It began as a faint hum, a vibration just at the edge of her awareness, then thickened into something sharper. She pressed her palm against the sheet, breath catching.
I can hear him.
Not with ears, but with that strange inner sense the attunement had awakened. His presence moved through her like a current, carrying voices she shouldn’t have been able to perceive.
Murmurs.
Commands.
A low, resonant reply she knew down to her marrow.
Kyrax.
More voices joined his: six of them, each different, each heavy with power. A council, she realised distantly. The same Vykan she’d seen in flickers of memory and imagined glimpses through him. She closed her eyes and the images sharpened: towering armored forms, masks like blackened obsidian carved with ancient symbols, eyes burning with crimson or amber light.
Even their silhouettes radiated dominance.
And they were furious.
Their words coalesced in her mind, foreign and yet somehow comprehensible now that the bond had settled deeper. The Vykan language carried weight, an undertone that vibrated in her chest.
“You endanger the veil.”
“Break the bond before it consumes you.”
“She is human. The failure is inevitable.”
“Do not condemn us to your ruin.”
Morgan’s throat tightened.
She clenched the sheet in both hands, knuckles whitening. Her heart hammered so loudly she almost missed Kyrax’s answer—cold, steady, unyielding.
“I will not.”
The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop, even though the fire threads continued their slow glow. Another Vykan voice cut through, sharper this time, metallic with fury.
“If the bond collapses, you will fall into madness.”
“We will be forced to kill you.”
“We will lose a protector.”
