Page 64 of Storms of His Wrath

The ninth morning brought particular intensity to their routine. He watched her dress in the borrowed Omega clothing that had become as familiar to him as his own robes, his hands itching to tear the fabric away and keep her naked in his bed. But duty called to them both—her magical training had reached a crucial stage, and he could see the anticipation building in her movements.

“The new staff was finished yesterday,” she said, braiding her hair back with practiced efficiency. “Today I’ll test it properly for the first time.”

Pride and possessiveness warred in his chest. “You’ll be careful.”

It wasn’t a question, and she recognized the Alpha command beneath the words. Instead of bristling, she moved to where he sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised.

After she left, restlessness drove him through his usual routines with less patience than normal. He checked supplies, spoke with Nrommo about the men’s morale, patrolled their perimeter. But his attention kept drifting toward where she’d disappeared, calculating how many hours until she returned.

When evening came and she appeared through the haze, something in her demeanor immediately caught his attention. She wasn’t upset—there was no distress in her posture, no tension in her movements. But she was quieter than usual, more thoughtful, her smiles coming less easily.

He swept her up as always, carrying her back to their tent with possessive vigilance. But once they were alone, he studied her face more carefully.

“The training went well?” he asked, settling her onto the cushions and reaching for the food he’d prepared.

“Yes and no.” She accepted the plate he offered but didn’t immediately begin eating. “The staff worked beautifully. Better than I’d hoped.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is.” She took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I felt them today, Akoro. Thennin-eellithi.Not just their presence, but their... essence. Their intentions.”

Something in her tone made him go still. “That must be progress.”

“It should be.” She set down her plate, turning to face him fully. “But even if I can communicate with them, what do I do with them? None of the Omegas’ tools have been designedto destroy wild magic—only to move it, direct it, contain it temporarily.”

Understanding began to dawn. “You need somewhere to put them.”

“Exactly. When I escaped from you the first time, a sliver ofnnin-eellithiembedded itself in me when I made the portal back to my land. I tore it out and sent it back to the Wastelands where it belonged.” Her voice grew frustrated. “But there’s nowhere to contain it here. There’s no permanent solution.”

Akoro listened carefully, noting the worry she was trying to hide beneath practical concerns. “We’ll figure it out,” he said finally. “There’s still time.”

But even as he spoke the reassurance, unease crawled up his spine. Four days. They had four days before the storm struck Onn Kkulma, and if Naya couldn’t find a way to contain or redirect thennin-eellithi....

He pushed the thought aside. They would find a solution. They had to.

Later that night, after he’d coaxed her into eating more and they’d exhausted themselves in each other’s arms, she lay against his chest with that same thoughtful quiet. But now there was something else—a vulnerability he recognized, the particular way she held herself when something was troubling her deeper than mere logistics.

“What is it?” he asked, his hand stroking through her hair.

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, almost hesitantly, “Will you tend to my scar tonight?”

The request surprised him. She’d grown comfortable with his almost nightly ritual of treating the mark he’d left on her face, but she’d never asked for it directly. He reached for the small clay pot of healing ointment, settling her more comfortably in his lap.

“Of course,” he murmured, beginning the gentle work of massaging the salve into the thin ridge of raised skin. “Is it itching?”

She nodded and closed her eyes, but he could feel tension radiating from her frame. Something was building toward a question she wasn’t sure how to ask.

“Akoro,” she said finally, her voice careful and controlled. “How did you learn to do this? Thennol ttaehh mael. It’s such a specific technique, so... precise.”

His hands stilled against her cheek. The question hung between them, loaded with implications they both understood. She wanted to know how he’d learned to perform a ritual that had been used to enslave and control Omegas for generations, but the real request was to know why.

The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of their complicated history. When Akoro finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. “My cousin,” he said finally. “Drennek. He was... a very cruel boy. All of the cousins spent time together in the outer villages when we were children.”

“How cruel?” Her question was soft, but he heard the steel beneath it.

“He enjoyed causing pain to others. Taking things from them, saying hurtful things. It led to physical fights as he grew. He had annol ttaehhsomehow and was practicing with it on stray cats, wild birds. Anything he could catch.” The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

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