Page 94 of Storms of His Wrath

The portal shimmered closed behind them, leaving Naya and Akoro standing alone in the dappled sunlight of her forest. The familiar scent of earth and growing things filled her lungs—moss and wildflowers, the sweet decay of fallen leaves, the clean bite of pine that had marked every childhood memory. Yet everything felt different now, transformed by the man whose presence beside her made her pulse race.

Akoro’s dark eyes swept their surroundings with the practiced assessment of a warrior in a foreign territory, but she could sense the careful restraint in his posture. This wasn’t the commanding king who’d addressed thousands from his palace steps—this was an Alpha on his mate’s territory, respectful of boundaries while remaining utterly, unmistakably dominant.

“Your forest,” he said, his voice carrying that rough undertone that never failed to send heat spiraling through her core. “It’s still beautiful.”

“It is,” she whispered, watching as he took in the towering canopy overhead, the way green light filtered through leaves in patterns that danced across his dark sand-colored skin. Here among the familiar trees of her childhood, his foreign nature was more apparent—the length of his dark hair, the way his clothesfit his powerful frame, the sheer size of him that made even ancient oaks seem smaller.

They walked along paths worn smooth by years of her daily journeys. Her awareness of him intensified with each step, the way his scent mingled with pine and earth to create something uniquely theirs.

“The Omega village is ahead,” she said as they approached the edge of the tree line. Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation, knowing what awaited them beyond the familiar border of her sanctuary.

The moment they emerged, shouts erupted across the village. Lox warriors materialized with the swift efficiency that had made their army legendary, weapons drawn, faces set with grim determination. The sun caught on polished steel as a dozen blades pointed toward Akoro’s chest.

“Princess!” A general’s voice cracked like a whip across the field. “Step away from him!”

Akoro went perfectly still beside her, but Naya could sense the coiled tension in his frame, the way his Alpha nature responded to the threat. His hand didn’t move toward his weapon, but dominance radiated from him in waves that made the air itself seem to vibrate with danger.

“Lower your weapons,” Naya called, her voice carrying the authority of someone born to rule. “King Akoro is here under my protection.”

The warriors hesitated, confusion flickering across their faces as they struggled to reconcile their princess’s words with the presence of their greatest enemy. Steel remained trained on Akoro’s heart, though uncertainty began to seep into their aggressive stances.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “Please escort us to the palace and alert my parents of our arrival.” She stepped closer to Akoro. “And you will show proper respect to my chosen mate.”

The words sent visible shock through the assembled guards. Weapons lowered incrementally as understanding filtered through them. This wasn’t a rescue—this was a homecoming.

The palace buzzed with frantic activity as word of their arrival spread through the corridors. Servants scattered while guards took defensive positions, their loyalty warring with confusion about how to treat this unprecedented situation. Waiting in the throne hall, surrounded by Papa’s weapons mounted on the walls, Naya stared at her throne, still positioned between her parents’ seats. She felt like a completely different person since the last time she’d sat there.

Her parents entered the throne room, and the sight of them after so many months made her chest ache. She couldn’t contain herself. “Mama, Papa!” She threw herself into their arms, and they caught her in a fierce embrace. Mama’s small frame pressed against her while Papa’s massive hands cradled her head.

“My daughter,” Mama whispered, her voice breaking. Papa kept asking if she was all right, if she was here under duress. Their familiar scents brought back memories that made tears burn her eyes.

Finally, she pulled back to look at them. They appeared exactly the same, though shadows beneath their eyes spoke of sleepless nights. Mama, still beautiful,with golden skin that seemed to glow. Papa, towering with silver hair and the bearing of absolute command.

Mama’s fingers brushed her scar, sadness and excitement warring in her gaze. “So you did it?” Mama asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “You found what they needed?”

“Nayara.” Papa’s gaze had shifted past her shoulder, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that could silence armies. “You return with the man who carved up your face?”

“Yes, Papa.” Naya moved between them, recognizing the signs of impending Alpha violence. “You remember that he is my true mate?”

“I remember that he took our Omegas hostage so he could steal you from your family,” Papa thundered.

The silence that followed crackled with tension. Papa’s expression darkened while Mama’s eyes widened as she studied the space between her daughter and the foreign king.

“Ah.” Mama’s smile bloomed slowly, maternal intuition blazing in her gaze. “I can see—and smell—that you’ve been thoroughly enjoying each other.”

Naya’s mouth dropped open, heat flooding her. “Mama!”

Mama’s laughter bubbled up, but Papa’s fury continued to fill the throne room like gathering storm clouds.

His jaw clenched. “I don’t care what kind of relationship you’ve formed. This bastard tortured you, kidnapped you, threatened our empire.” His voice boomed across the hall. “He doesn’t deserve to breathe, let alone claim my daughter.”

Akoro stepped forward then, his movement controlled despite the aggression radiating from her father. When he spoke, it was with respect and deference without sacrificing his natural dominance.

“You’re right, emperor,” he said simply. “I don’t deserve her. I tortured the woman the Voices chose for me. I carved a devastating wound into the most precious gift I’ve ever received.” His dark eyes found Papa’s without flinching. “But I love her more than my own life, and I’ve come to ask—respectfully—for the chance to spend what remains of my existence proving myself worthy of her.”

Papa’s laugh held no humor. “Respectfully?” His hand moved to his sword hilt with practiced ease. “You want respect? Earn it.”

The challenge hung in the air like a blade, sharp with the promise of violence. Akoro’s nostrils flared as he scented the emperor’s aggressive intent, but instead of responding with matching hostility, he spread his hands in a gesture of peace.

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