Page 91 of Storms of His Wrath

“Sit,” Akoro said gently, gesturing toward the cushioned seating area where they’d shared quiet meals and intimate conversations. But she remained frozen, staring at him with wide eyes that reflected the shock still coursing through her system.

“Naya.” He moved closer, and the shift in his scent—deeper now, threaded with concern—sent familiar heat spiraling through her core despite the chaos in her mind. “You’re trembling.”

She looked down at her hands, seeing the fine tremors that she couldn’t seem to control. “I can’t... I don’t understand what just happened.”

“They chose you,” he said simply, settling onto the edge of the bed where they’d been tangled together just hours before. “My people looked at you and saw their queen.”

The words sent a shock through her system that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the impossible shift in her entire future. “But I’m notssukkurian. I’m the heir to the Lox Empire. I have duties, responsibilities?—”

“You saved their lives,” Akoro said, his dark eyes never leaving her face. “You forged alliances they never dreamed possible. You proved yourself willing to die for people you’d never met.” His voice softened. “They see what I’ve always seen—a leader worth following.”

Naya sank onto the cushions across from him, her legs no longer steady enough to support her upright. The familiar bedding beneath her body should have been comforting, but instead, it reminded her of all the mornings she’d woken here in his arms, all the conversations they’d had in the Isshiran Sands about duty and leadership and the crushing responsibility of making decisions that affected thousands of lives.

“You didn’t have to destroy yourself,” she said, the words emerging as barely more than a whisper. “What you did out there... Akoro, you’ve spent over twenty years building your reign, earning their trust, and you threw it all away in one speech.”

A muscle twitched beneath his beard, the only sign of the emotion he kept carefully controlled. “I didn’t throw it away. I chose to stop hiding behind it.”

The quiet admission hit Naya like lightning. She stared at him—this man who had captured her, tortured her, loved her, sacrificed everything for her honor—and anger started to burn through the shock that had paralyzed her thoughts.

“Stop hiding?” The words escaped sharp and incredulous. “You call that honesty? You call destroying yourself in front of thousands of people some kind of noble revelation?”

Akoro’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t retreat from her building fury. Instead, he leaned forwardslightly, his Alpha dominance a subtle undercurrent that made her skin flush with unwanted awareness even as anger blazed through her veins.

“I call it accepting the truth I’ve been running from since the day I took the throne,” he said, his voice carrying that deep resonance that made her pulse quicken despite her indignation. “I’ve been ruling the same way my family did—taking what I wanted, pursuing my goals, letting others pay the price for my decisions.”

“That’s not,” she began, but he continued as though she hadn’t spoken.

“Do you know what Otenyo told me before I killed him?” The casual mention of execution sent a chill through her, though she couldn’t tell if it was fear or arousal at the reminder of his lethal capabilities. “He reminded me that I’d broken the blood contract with the outer districts. That I’d promised them protection from wild magic, then disappeared when that protection failed.”

Naya opened her mouth to argue, but the words died as her mind worked through the words. The destruction she caused when she’d escaped… Akoro’s had been absent.

“He was right,” Akoro said, his voice dropping to something more dangerous. “I left them to deal with the aftermath of destruction while I chased after you and pinned you down in my bed for days. I prioritized my desires over their welfare, just like every Sy king before me.”

The admission hung between them, brutal in its honesty. Naya found herself studying his face, the harsh lines that spoke of years carrying impossible burdens, the dark eyes that had looked at her with such primal hunger, the mouth that had claimed hers with possessive intensity.

“Even when I presented you as the culprit,” he continued, self-loathing threading through his tone like poison, “I told themyou were one of us to protect you from their anger, yes. But also, to justify keeping you.”

Naya understood his point—the way he’d convinced himself that his desires served some greater purpose, the gradual corruption of good intentions into familiar dominance.

“You saved them from the storm, though,” she said quietly. “Everything you did led to that solution.”

“We saved them,” he corrected, his gaze finding hers with laser intensity. “And that only happened because you chose to help despite every reason to let them burn. Despite what I’d done to you.”

The raw vulnerability in his admission made her chest tighten with unwanted emotion. This wasn’t just the dominant Alpha who’d claimed her body with ruthless skill, this was a man finally confronting the uncomfortable truths about his own nature.

“So, you decided to abdicate,” she said, still struggling to process the magnitude of his public confession. “To punish yourself by throwing away everything you’ve built.”

“I decided to stop lying.” His voice hardened, resolute. “To my people, to my council, to myself. And most importantly, to you.”

Naya felt her breath catch as the full implication of his words settled over her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve been trying to convince you to stay with me while hiding the man you’d actually be staying with.” The admission roughened his voice until it was barely above a growl. “I’ve been asking you to love a king instead of the flawed Alpha who would burn the world to keep you.”

The distinction hit her with unexpected force. All their careful negotiations, their temporary arrangement, the way he’d asked her to give him a real chance—all of it built on theassumption that he could somehow separate his role as ruler from his nature as the man who’d claimed her.

“You think I don’t know who you are?” she asked, studying his face with new understanding. “You think I’ve been blind to the darkness in you, the way you lean into cruelty, the way you ruthlessly dominate everyone and everything?”

His stillness was answer enough, and something shifted in her perception.

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