Page 37 of Claimed By the Vykan

Morgan’s pulse thundered in her throat. “There will be other changes?”

“Many.”

Morgan let out a shaky exhale. “Will I lose myself?”

Raeska studied her with unusual intensity. “You have already shown a remarkable will. You crossed the stars alone, endured fear, faced a Vykan without collapsing, and held your ground. Strength lives in you, Morgan of Earth. You will endure.”

Morgan swallowed, throat tightening unexpectedly. “Can I ask you something? About you.”

Raeska inclined her head. “Ask.”

“Have you been bonded?”

“Yes,” Raeska answered simply. “But to one equal to me. A Saelori, not a Vykan.”

Morgan frowned. “Why not a Vykan? If they’re Saelori too?”

Raeska’s voice lowered. “The Vykan are… changed. A divergence born of necessity. Their venom is lethal to most species. To Saelori, it isn’t deadly, but it is sedating and overwhelming. They cannot imprint on us. Only on those who can withstand them.”

Morgan stared. “So the mask… he wears that to protect you?”

Raeska nodded. “In part. And to protect others. A Vykan’s breath, when unrestrained, can incapacitate entire rooms. The mask governs the release.”

Morgan shivered. “And he let it out near me.”

“He did,” Raeska confirmed gently. “It is a sign of trust. And a test.”

Before Morgan could respond, her stomach growled—loud, startling, almost painful.

She flushed. “I—I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Raeska said with a faint smile. “The hunger is expected. Your body is altering itself.”

Raeska summoned another attendant. Within moments, a tray arrived—larger than the last one. Fragrant meats glistened in a rich glaze. Soft, steaming grains nestled beside spiced vegetables. Thick, airy bread gleamed with a sheen of something savory and herbal. Fresh herbs scattered across the plates, theiraroma sharp and refreshing. And a cup of that warm, calming tea.

Morgan didn’t wait for permission. She ate with a hunger that startled her—bite after bite, flavors bursting on her tongue. The bread melted like butter. The meat was tender, almost sweet. The vegetables snapped beneath her teeth with perfect freshness.

With every mouthful, her strength returned.

Her senses sharpened.

The room gained clarity.

Her breathing steadied.

By the time the tray was empty, the desperate ache had softened into a humming undercurrent of awareness.

Raeska left quietly, bowing before departing through the stone archway.

Morgan sat back against the cushions, placing a hand to her chest.

It was there.

That pressure she’d felt in the garden.

That invisible pull.

It curled through her now—faint, warm, unmistakable.