Page 55 of Sins of His Wrath

As she pulled the rough fabric over her head, Akoro moved to the door, his back rigid, his hands braced against the wood. He turned to look at her for a long moment, his hands on the door. “Always remember you are safe.”

Sudden nerves trembled in her stomach. What did that mean?

Before she could think, Akoro pulled the door open. A group of guards stood outside. “Go with them,” Akoro commanded.

Naya’s heart thrummed, confusion flooding her mind, but she said nothing. She joined the guards outside.

They led her through a network of empty corridors until they reached a busier area of the palace that bustled with the sounds she remembered. She couldn’t see anything though—the guards were so big and so thick around her she could only see the ceiling.

They turned down a series of flights of stairs twisting down underneath the building. The air became musty and damp, heavy with the scent of earth. The torches lining the rough-hewn walls flickered, throwing jagged, shifting shadows.

Naya tried to remain calm. Akoro had promised that she wouldn’t be hurt as part of his terms, but this felt dangerous. That foolish Omega ached with disappointment that he’d sent her away—and worried she’d done something to displease him—but that was why she couldn’t pay attention to that foolish side of herself. Just because he could fuck her into oblivion didn’t mean he wasn’t a cruel, dangerous man. He was. He always had been. She had to remember that.

Finally, they reached a heavy door banded with iron. One guard stepped forward to unlock it, the key turning with a grinding sound that echoed in the confined space. The door swung open, and they led her along several dark corridors until they reached a small, dark chamber at the end of the passageway. Naya’s breath was steady, measured. But inside, her pulse pounded.

Before her eyes could adjust, the guard led her forward, directing her through a small doorway into darkness. Naya almost told them she couldn’t see, but Akoro's warning echoed in her mind.

A door clanged shut behind her, and a lock clicked into place. Darkness pressed in around her, and she inhaled sharply, reaching out, searching—only to feel damp, slimy stone.

Finally, as her eyes adjusted and she could see, clarity rushed in.

She was in a prison cell.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Naya woke to murky darkness. She’d tried to examine her cell when she first arrived, but even though it was only a few feet long, it was too dark to see all of it. She’d tucked herself into a corner, wrapping around her arms around her legs, hoping to see better in a few hours, but the atmosphere remained the same as though no time had passed at all; gloomy, dark, and oppressive. Debris littered the floor, and dank, stale air hung around her, reeking of sour, foul odors, as though people had rotted away within the rough, black walls.

So Akoro had finally thrown her into a dungeon. Maybe he’d been furious that she touched his weapons. Maybe he was fed up with her. But it made little sense. What was the point of imprisoning her when he intended to give her a first day to work on the Solution?

Naya sighed and slowly got to her feet. At least there was no one dangerous in here with her. She approached the gate and carefully peered out. Beyond her cell was a small, high-ceilinged area lit with several flat benches and stairs to the far left. One torch burned low, providing the weak, orange glow that barely lit her cell. On the other walls were gates like hers, no doubt containing other cells. Inside them was dark. The only sounds she could hear were a slow drip of water onto concrete and erratic scratching and pattering of tiny clawed feet.

Naya angled her head, trying to see the whole chamber. No one was visible, not even guards.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded pathetically hoarse and weak. Even if anyone was in the other cells, they probably wouldn’t hear her. She tried again, louder. “Is anyone else here?”

Silence.

Leaning against the bars, she thought back to Akoro. Maybe this was a punishment for her lack of interest in behaving like his true mate. It just didn’t feel like he would do something like this to convince her—he was smart enough to know that this wouldn’t work.

Many hours passed, and no one came. Naya guessed it had to be evening by now, and no one had even come to give her water. Her stomach ached, and her mouth was dry. Maybe he was trying to kill her slowly if he couldn’t make her enthusiastic about being his mate. But that seemed ridiculous, too. She walked around in the tiny space, trying to think up reasons why he’d put her here, and underneath it all was a roiling sorrow that the man she’d spent days cuddled next to her had done this to her.

By the time she heard footsteps, she’d fallen asleep on the floor by the gate, her head on the iron bars and her hands and feet tucked away from the creatures that scurried past. At least a day had to have passed.

The footsteps stopped outside her cell, and when the door opened, three guards and two female servants were waiting.

Naya stepped out slowly, apprehension stiffening her limbs. The guards fanned out into the chamber and turned their backs while the servants undressed her.

Naya kept her eyes on the other cells, looking for any other prisoners who might come forward at the noise, but everything was still behind their gates. Akoro seemed like the kind of Alpha whose dungeons were constantly overflowing, yet these appeared unused.

When she was naked, the servants reached into a large pot next to one of the stone benches and scooped out handfuls of what looked like a mixture of dirt and sand, and blood, and began rubbing it all over Naya’s skin.

Immediately, she whipped her head to one side, trying not to gag. A putrid odor from the mixture attacked her nostrils, reminiscent of rotting meat, urine, and rotting fish.

The servants covered her in it, from her neck to her underarms to in between her toes, then dressed her in a loose, thin, pale tunic that was freezing, as though it had been laid out in the snow-laden Southern Isles for a few years. It hung from her shoulders to her knees with a shapeless stiffness. It was an odd choice—to cover her with a light material after essentially smearing her with something so foul. And the tunic didn’t even match the intricately patterned style she’d seen from this culture.

One guard carefully tied her wrists with a thick rope that was attached to a long lead. Finally, they covered her head with a thick sack-like material.

The guards gripped her elbow and led her back through the corridors, up the stairs, and supported her as she climbed up back up to the fresh air of the palace before letting her go. Naya took a deep breath and let herself be led by soft tugs on the rope around her wrists. She had put herself in this position and if it came to it, she would defend herself. But for now, all she could do was abide by what Akoro wanted so she could get her first day.

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