Page 28 of Claimed By the Vykan

Despair rose, sharp and cold, tangling with unwilling fascination.

And, to her shock, with the thinnest strand of hope.

Why?

The word slipped out on a bare whisper. “Why?”

She was not even sure what she meant. Why her? Why now? Why this touch, this moment?

His answer came layered: his own deep voice and the translator’s echo, perfectly aligned.

“Because I wanted to,” he said.

The sound hummed in her bones.

“And…” His fingers stayed where they were, anchoring her face. “Because you were willing.”

“Willing?” The syllables scraped her throat. Heat surged under her skin, fury rising so fast it nearly burned through her fear. For one reckless heartbeat, she wanted to shove him away, to break that unshakeable composure.

“You think I was willing to leave everything I’ve ever known?” Her voice shook, but she didn’t care. “My world? My home?”

A small, bitter laugh escaped. “You have a strange definition of willing.”

He didn’t move. The gauntleted hand under her chin remained steady. The red glow behind the helm did not flare. He absorbed her words as though they barely ruffled the surface.

“The Marak explained everything,” he replied, voice deepening but remaining controlled. “You resist what you do not understand. In your old world, you were bound. Dissatisfied. Kept from your full potential. With time, you will see.”

“See what?” The question slid out before she could stop it.

He still did not lash out. The absence of retaliation loosened something inside her. Fear shifted, making space for a bolder edge.

“What is all of this?” Her breath snagged, but she kept going. “Why am I here?”

His hand adjusted slightly, redirecting her focus back to him. The metal traced along her jaw in a touch that was both careful and absolute.

“You are here because you are mine,” he said.

The world tilted. “That’s… ridiculous.”

“It is a boon for both of us. You do not understand yet. You will.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Anger, fear, and that troubling fascination tangled tighter.

“What does that even mean?” she forced out. “To be yours? What are you? Who are you? And what do?—”

She almost swallowed the last question, but it pushed through anyway.

“What do you expect of me?”

His focus did not waver. His presence alone held her still.

“I am Kyrax Sagarnis,” he said, the name rolling out with ancient weight. “Vykan of the Saelori. Vhar’ek of the Inner Veil. Protector of this world and its people.”

The titles fell between them like heavy stones.

“One of seven,” he continued, “bound by purpose. I am lethal to all who threaten this realm… and to all who threaten you. But to you, I am something else.” The red glow deepened. “I am bound in purpose, not in harm. You will not suffer under my hand. In my bastion, you will know comfort and protection. And…” His voice dipped, the resonance deepening. “You will learn to be present.”

Morgan let out a shaky exhale.