Page 53 of Storms of His Wrath

“Akoro!” She exclaimed in surprise. “You don’t have to come and get me, I can walk to your camp.” She cuddled into his chest without conscious thought. The solid warmth of him, the way his scent enveloped her like a claiming—it sent relief flooding through her after the frustrating day she’d endured.

“I want to,” he said simply, his voice rough with that coarse huskiness that makes her pulse quicken.

“It’s dangerous every time you leave the sand drift. You don’t need to risk yourself to come and get me, I have protection.”

Akoro didn’t bother to reply, just looked down at her with that intense focus that told her he wasn’t going to leave her protection to anyone else. It should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it reached parts of her heart she’d kept guarded from him.

As he carried her toward the camp, the familiar yearning sparked between them, her body responding to his proximity despite her dejected mood. The anticipation of being alone with him, of losing herself in the furious, erotic frenzy they created together, made her nipples harden.

He carried her directly inside his tent.

“How was your day?” His beautiful, deepening scent wrapped around her as he set her down inside. His hands remained at her waist as he pulled back, and studied her face with those dark eyes.

“Who upset you?” The husk in his voice turned gritty, and his entire frame went rigid.

“What?”

“What’s wrong, Naya?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He leaned in, his scent turning bitter, his eyes hard. “Tell me who the fuck it was.”

“No one upset me, Akoro. I just want?—”

“I can fucking tell,” he barked, muscles rippling with agitation. “Tell me who it was. I’ll make sure they understand what happens when they upset what’s mine.”

Despite her dejection, Naya found herself smiling at his fierce protectiveness. He was a huge, thick beast of aggression—coiled muscle and barely contained tension, and all because he suspected she was upset. It pulled at something deep inside her, something wild.

Akoro went still, his aggressive posture softening as he focused on her smile. “There it is,” he murmured.

Before either could speak further, she heard the sound of a throat clearing. She turned to the tent entrance and saw Oppo, his usually composed features tight with trepidation.

“Oppo!” Akoro thundered. He spoke rapidly in their language, but Oppo was looking at Naya,

When he spoke, the words tumbled over each other with quiet desperation.

Akoro exhaled, as if tempering himself. He translated with visible patience. “He wants to know if you saw Oshrun, if she’s coming to see him with Nnimi.”

Naya’s heart swung low at the sight of Oppo’s anxious face. “I told her you were here,” she said gently. “She knows. But I don’t know if or when she’ll come. The community is still adjusting to the alliance, and some of them are struggling to accept this change. She can’t leave them unattended just yet.” She glanced at Akoro. “Be kind when you translate.”

“I know,” he said, somewhat irritably. “But everyone knows not to just enter my tent like that, especially when you’re onsite.” He shot her a dark look. “We could’ve been fucking already.” Taking his time, Akoro translated what she said. Oppo’s face fell slightly before he nodded with visible effort to compose himself.

“Nuk tae tikshon nli?k hhe nnu? ppo tshi?ke shi? lleae,” Oppo said to her, inclining his head respectfully before leaving.

“What did he say?”

“May the sands of your day fall smooth and undisturbed. It sort of translates to thank you, in this context.” Akoro watched Oppo leave. “He understands.”

The moment the tent flap fell closed behind him, Naya moved to Akoro and reached for the fastenings of his robes. His nose flared, a gruff sound rumbling from him as her fingers worked at the ties, but he didn’t move, didn’t help, didn’t stop her. He simply watched with those dark eyes, scent becomingmusky and delicious, as she slowly exposed the broad expanse of his chest.

“Naya.” He said her name like a warning, gritty and guttural. “We were talking.”

Naya glanced up at him playfully. “I don’t come here to talk.”

A vicious growl ripped from Akoro’s chest, and he clamped his hand around hers, locking her fingers still. His eyes darkened, storm-black and unblinking.

Naya froze, shocked. His scent flooded the tent—dark, volatile, laced with something feral. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, every nerve attuned to him.

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