Page 96 of Storms of His Wrath

Drocan sat rigid with barely contained aggression, his dark eyes—so like Papa’s—fixed on Akoro. “You’re the bastard who hurt my sister.”

Her siblings clustered around the polished table, in their private dining chamber, their reactions ranging from outright hostility to cautious curiosity.

“I am,” Akoro replied calmly, meeting the younger Alpha’s challenging stare. “And I’ll answer for it in whatever way she demands.”

“Drocan,” Naya said sharply, recognizing the signs of her brother’s volatile temper. “Enough.”

But Drocan’s scowl only deepened. “He carved up your face and you’re defending him?”

“I’m defending my choice,” Naya shot back. “And you need to respect it.”

Azarn leaned forward, his curious nature overriding caution. “Is it true you stopped the magical storm?”

Interest flickered in Akoro’s expression. “We worked together to find a solution. Your sister’s courage saved millions of lives.”

“Our sister is remarkable,” Idaya added with fierce pride. “She always finds a way.”

The warmth in their voices seemed to surprise Akoro, and Naya’s affection for her family’s protective instincts flooded her. Even Drocan’s hostility came from love, however misguided.

They talked a bit over dinner, Idaya and Azarn asking questions about Akoro’s land.

“Are you really going to be queen there,” Drocan said bluntly, clearly unhappy about it.

Naya sighed, smiling at him. “If I choose to rule there, yes. And I would hope, you might come and visit, all of you.”

Drocan scoffed.

“If you do,” Naya said, shrugging, “there might be a marshal role there for you.”

Drocan straightened. “What? Marshal? Full command?”

“There are lots more opportunities there,” Naya said. “If you want it, you should consider visiting and seeing what you think.”

Her brother sat back, conflict warring across his features. The opportunity was everything he’d dreamed of, yet it meant leaving home, trusting the man who’d hurt his sister.

“Only if I choose to be queen there, of course,” she said gently.

Drocan’s hostility was muted after that, and he even started asking Akoro questions about his military.

After the servants cleared the final course and her siblings gradually excused themselves, Naya found herself studying the familiar dining hall with new eyes. The tapestries depicting Lox victories, the carved throne where Papa held court, the very stones that had sheltered her childhood—all of it felt like distant memories.

Akoro dragged her chair so she was right next to him, and simply looked at her, relaxed and content as though it was his favorite pastime.

“I want to go home,” she said, her pulse quickening as the certainty bloomed in her chest. “To Tsashokra. To our people.” The rightness of it flooded her senses.

Shock blazed in Akoro’s dark eyes, joy and excitement crashing over his features with such raw intensity that arousal pooled liquid between her thighs. He lifted her out of her chair and crushed her to him, his bruising possession that made her stomach flutter and sent beams of satisfaction through her.

“You’re certain?” he asked. “Your family, your empire?—”

“Will always matter to me,” she breathed, her voice thick with need as his proximity overwhelmed her senses. “But I’m not the girl who left here. I belong beside you now, buildingsomething that’s ours.” The acknowledgment was honest, and excitement bloomed in her at the idea that she would get to go back to the region and learn about his people properly, their customs and their rituals and their religions, not to mention she’d be helping to build a brand-new Omega community.

She’d never seen such joy on Akoro’s face, he held her tight, his scent turning to that rich, possessive musk that their embraces always devolved into.

A few days later, evening shadows stretched across the square in Ashens. Naya stood before the assembled crowd with Akoro beside her, his presence both foreign and familiar against the backdrop of her childhood home. Thousands of faces gazed up at them—servants, guards, citizens—all gathering to witness their princess’s return. The murmur of speculation rippled through the gathered masses, voices carrying fragments of disbelief as they tried to process the sight of their greatest enemy standing calmly beside their beloved heir.

The weight of their expectation touched her skin like desert wind, each upturned face a reminder of the life she was choosing to leave behind. These people had watched her grow from rebellious child to reluctant princess, had celebrated her victories and mourned her capture. Now they waited to learn what her return would mean for the empire that had shaped her.

“People of the Lox Empire,” Naya began, her voice clear and loud. “I stand before you tonight not as your future empress, but as a woman who has found her true path.”

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