Page 17 of Storms of His Wrath

The accusation hit harder than a war hammer. Rage coiled inside him at whoever had told her what the wound meant. And yet, he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t hide behind excuses.

And she knew that.

He became aware, slowly, that she hadn’t returned his embrace. Her arms hung at her sides, her body stiff in his hold. She didn’t seem pleased to see him, didn’t seem grateful to be rescued. The realization settled in his stomach, cold and heavy.

He lowered her and loosened his grip but didn’t release her, keeping her pressed against his body as he studied her face. “Where have you been? Who took you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said, her tone somber. “I was taken against my will but they’re not enemies. I’m learning a lot about your land.”

The words sent alarm horns blaring in his mind. There was something different about her, something guarded and distant that hadn’t been there before. “Who are they, Naya?” he growled. “They cannot just take you and expect not to pay for it.”

Instead of answering, she held his gaze with an intensity he’d never seen in her eyes before. When she spoke, her voice was low. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About the Omegas your family kept as slaves.” Her voice sharpened, cutting through him. “About how they were used to make your family wealthy and powerful.”

A slow burn of disbelief spread through his chest, tightening around his ribs. She knew. Somehow, impossibly, she knew the one thing about his family’s history that he’d wanted to stay buried. A growl burned the back of his throat. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Naya pushed at his chest, yanking herself out of his hold and stepping back with deliberate distance. “Were you ever going to tell me?” she said, her voice harsh. “How much of what you told me was actually the truth?”

Fury blazed through him at the accusation. “I’ve never lied about the sins of my family.”

“Omitting information about the Omegas is lying about what happened!” Her voice rose, anger finally breaking through. “When do they get recognition for the suffering they went through? Your dynasty was built on their pain and blood and enslavement. You donothave the right to erase it! Is this why your council was so evasive when I asked about magic leaving the Nnin-ka Sands? Is this why Prillu never wanted to give me information about your magical tools?”

Akoro scowled. “My council doesn’t discuss it because they don’t indulge in rumor.”

“Omega history is just as valid as yours,” she snapped. “It cannot be sidelined as gossip!”

Both dread and admiration crept up his spine as he watched her fury unfold. She was in a beautiful rage, similar to the one he’d been in when he found out what his family had been doing.But the way she looked at him now wasn’t with the growing trust they’d been building. It wasn’t even with the hate she had when he first took her. It was accusation, disappointment; there was mistrust in her face, and it cut him to his core.

The wind whipped, carrying stinging grains of sand that found every gap in his armor, reminding Akoro of the constant danger surrounding them.

“These Sands will kill us both if we stay here,” he said, his voice rough with urgency. “We’ll talk once we’re back at the palace.”

Naya’s chin lifted, that familiar stubborn tilt that had both maddened and entranced him from the beginning. “No. I want to know why you lied about the Omegas. Why you kept that from me.”

Heat surged through his veins, frustration mixing with the primal need to get her to safety. “It’s not important right now. Wait until we get back to the palace, where you’re safe.”

“It’s not—” She stared at him, shock and anger warring in her expression. “How can you say that it’s not important?”

The wind picked up again, howling around them with increasing violence. His every instinct screamed at him to get her out of here, to carry her to safety whether she wanted it or not.

Without warning, he bent and swept her up, throwing her over his shoulder in one fluid motion. Her gasp of surprise barely registered over the roar of wind and the pounding of his heart. She was his to keep safe, and he would not let these damn Sands claim her.

To his surprise, she didn’t fight him. No fists pounding against his back, no shouted protests. But somehow the silence was worse than any struggle would have been, settling over them like a shroud as he began the trek back toward the sand drift where his men waited.

His boots sank into the shifting ground with each step, the sand seeming to grab at him, trying to drag him down. But he pushed forward, his grip on Naya firm and unyielding. She was a warm weight against his shoulder, alive and real, and that was all that mattered.

Then her voice came, so quiet he almost missed it over the wind.

“Did you ever truly want to be with me? Properly, the way my parents are together? Or was that a lie too?”

The words struck him with devastating force, stopping Akoro in his tracks. The simple question, asked in that soft, broken voice, fractured something in him.He stood frozen in the midst of the hostile Sands, her weight across his shoulder, as the implications crashed over him. He was losing what little he had of her.

Carefully, almost reverently, he lowered her to the ground. His hands found her face, tilting it up to his, and the sight that greeted him tore at him.

Tears. Glimmering in her beautiful brown eyes. In all their time together—through her capture, her escape, her return—he’d never seen her cry. Not once. The sight of those tears roused something deep in his chest, something he hadn’t known could be touched.

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