Page 51

Fifty-One

T he clock beside her bed ticked in a slow, pulsing rhythm—Majarin-made, but altered for her. Twelve-hour cycle, numerals adjusted to the Terran system. She'd found it oddly comforting. As though a piece of Earth had been embedded into the grandeur of Luxar.

Three weeks had passed since their return. She could count the days now.

Leonie sat at her sleek, obsidian-hued desk, fingers brushing across the glowing interface of her new computer. The Majarin had adapted it for her, complete with encryption layers she couldn’t begin to understand—but it worked. She could email. She could scroll. She could talk to her friends back home.

And what strange things they told her.

"Aliens, Leonie," one of them had written. "Ships in the sky. It was all over social media for two days. Military said it was atmospheric interference. But people saw things. They panicked. Then, poof. Everything went quiet. Covered up, probably. I swear, it was real."

She stared at the message a long while.

It didn’t take a genius to piece together the truth.

She didn’t know what Karian had done—not exactly—but she knew him. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Earth. Not while she lived.

Still, a chill lingered. Power like his didn’t move quietly. Whatever storm he had unleashed in the skies of her world, he had shrouded it in shadow before it could fall on her doorstep.

She closed the message, leaned back, and pressed her hand to her chest, where her heartbeat still quickened.

A soft chime echoed through the room. The doors opened.

Karian stepped in, tall and impossible, all shadowed grace and majesty. He had foregone his armor tonight. The lines of his robe shimmered faintly in the dim lights, embroidered with the symbols of his house. He was, as ever, arresting.

"Evening," she said, rising to meet him.

He didn’t speak at first—only moved to her, his steps soundless, his presence overwhelming. When he took her hand in his, the warmth of his skin calmed the restless tangle in her stomach.

"You're troubled," he said.

She looked up at him. "You were on Earth. Weren’t you?"

He didn’t answer. His dark eyes only searched hers with unreadable depth.

"You did something," she continued. "People saw... things."

"I did what was necessary," he said quietly.

That was all.

She sighed, resting her head briefly against his chest. His heart beat differently—slower, deeper, like a pulse echoing from the core of the world.

"I just wish I knew what you were protecting me from," she murmured.

"Too much," he replied. And then, before she could press further, his tone shifted. "Come with me."

He led her through the spiraled corridors of his tower to the chambers she rarely entered—his Inner Sanctum. They opened without a word, responding to his presence alone. The room inside was vast, warm, and fragrant with alien incense. Pillars soared like trees to the high ceiling, and curved windows revealed the night skies of Luxar.

Leonie turned to him in confusion. "Why are we here?"

"You are not returning to your chambers," he said. "They are no longer yours."

Her brow furrowed. "Then where?—?"

"These are your chambers now. Mine. Ours."

The words stunned her into silence.

"You will live here," he continued, voice low and reverent. "There will be no more separation between us. You are to dwell at my side—in truth, in presence, and in name."

Her lips parted. "Karian, are you saying...?"

He stepped closer, cupping her face in one clawed hand. "There has only been one other instance of this. Over a millennium ago. A Marak... choosing a mate. Declaring it to the stars."

Her pulse thundered.

"And now, it will be known again," he said. "You are to be my Marakin."

Leonie felt her knees weaken. His arms wrapped around her instantly, catching her, holding her tight to his body. The weight of what he’d said slammed into her like a wave. Not a concubine. Not a captive. A mate.

His.

Forever.

Karian leaned down and kissed her deeply, with a heat that left her breathless. She melted into him, unable to hold back the swell of longing, the gravity that had always drawn her to him.

He would declare her to his people. To the universe.

And she would stand beside him, not as property, but as a partner.

She let herself go completely, surrendering to his touch, to the certainty in his voice, to the future she had once thought stolen—but had instead been rewritten in stars.