Page 19 of Sins of His Wrath (Myth of Omega: Wrath #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T hat night, Naya tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She tried thinking about Akoro’s scent, being in his bed, again, sink into the memories of his bed but she was too annoyed with him. She needed to know how someone from her land was responsible for his people's destruction, when it was his family who caused much of their own destruction.

Unfortunately, Akoro refused to answer any more questions. They rode back to the palace just as it was getting dark. She hadn't seen him since.

Naya tossed in her bed, twisting the sheets around her legs as she stared up at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come and her simmering anger wouldn't subside.

The Sy Dynasty—Akoro's family—had caused this. They had destroyed their own civilization with their greed and arrogance. They had unleashed the wild magic that ravaged his land, not her people or anyone from her land. Akoro blamed the Lox Empire for his world's devastation, using it to justify kidnapping her, torturing her, threatening her people with invasion.

Worse, nothing he'd shown her today had actually deepened her understanding of magic. Nothing that would help her find the Solution.

A realization settled like a cold weight in her stomach. He was distracting her. She had three days left, and he was leading her through history lessons instead of showing her what she truly needed to know.

Frustrated, Naya sat up and pushed the covers away. Perhaps some drills would exhaust her enough to sleep. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and froze.

A shadow moved in the corner of the room.

Naya's breath caught in her throat, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. Akoro sat a few feet from her bed, his massive form barely visible in the darkness, his mood palpable—like a storm gathering.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper in the dark.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and taut. Finally he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Naya stared at him, incredulous. "That's not an answer."

"Neither is yours."

She exhaled sharply, pushing her hair back from her face. "I can't sleep."

He shifted, the moonlight catching the hard angles of his face. His scent—spiced earth and something distinctly, dangerously male—was already heavy in the room, but she hadn’t noticed it in her anger. She inhaled deeply, annoyed she was taking comfort in him, even when she was furious with him.

"You're not having nightmares anymore," he said, the observation both statement and question.

Naya said nothing.

"Even when I first took you, you woke screaming every night," he said, "Not anymore."

“You’ve only just noticed that?” Naya snapped. “I was in your bed for over a week.”

“You never had nightmares when you were exhausted from my cock,” he said sharply. “That’s not new.”

Naya pressed her lips together. She’d had nightmares after her heat when she was withdrawn, but he was right. Usually she was too exhausted when she was with him.

His voice softened slightly. "Have you come to terms with your sister's death?"

The question caught her off guard. It was something she’d wondered herself. A pang of grief sliced through her, but it was duller now, a scar rather than an open wound.

The tension in her muscles loosened. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. She thought for a moment. "Yes. Yes I have.”

In the darkness, Naya could feel Akoro’s focus narrow, his attention sharpening. “How? You thought you could have prevented her death. Do you still think that?”

“I…” Naya hesitated, her throat tightening. “I don’t think I could have saved her—not with what I knew then.”

She fell silent again, searching for the right words.

“We are not as equipped for magic in my land as you are in yours,” she said slowly. “I know you’re aware of that. But I didn’t truly understand how much we weren’t—until I came here.”

She tucked her legs under her, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “We don’t know enough. We don’t train for it the way we should. I didn’t have the knowledge. I didn’t have the skill. When I think back on it now…” She exhaled, rubbing her hands over her arms. “None of us were ready. And if I wasn’t prepared, if I didn’t even have the tools to act differently, then how could my choices have changed anything?”

Her voice was quieter now, but steady.

“I made decisions from ignorance. But there were so many decisions before mine—years of neglecting what should have been learned, of feuds that distracted from what was important, of knowledge lost because of old grudges. I didn’t fail her. We all failed her, long before that day.”

She met Akoro’s gaze in the dim light. “I carried the weight of it for so long, but it was never mine alone to bear. My parents tried to tell me that but I couldn’t hear it.”

Akoro hummed in acknowledgment. "And that’s why the nightmares have stopped?"

"Maybe." Naya pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I think they stopped because I stopped being afraid of what my life is going to be. I've realized I can't be afraid anymore. I can't be afraid to lead, to make decisions." Her voice dropped lower. "I can't be afraid to be alone."

The silence that followed was thick. Akoro’s shadowy outline leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his scent shifting to something darker. "What do you mean by 'alone'?"

Her pulse quickened. The possessiveness in his voice and the sudden stillness of his body made this dangerous territory.

"Nothing," she said, turning away from him. This was none of his business anyway.

"Tell me," he ordered.

"No." Naya spoke clearly and precisely, refusing to let him roll over her again with his dominance. "When you tell me everything—I want to know about magic,the truth, not just history and blame—then maybe I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Akoro rose slowly from his chair, his shadow elongating across the floor as he approached. Naya looked up at him, his heat radiating against her bare arms.

His voice came rough and quiet. "Is this a negotiation, tmot zia ?"

"Isn’t everything between us?"

It was too hard to see his face, but in the silence, something shifted, hardened. Naya could feel something shifting between them—not just desire, not just anger, but something more complex. A recognition. A pull that ran deeper than their bodies' attraction.

"Fine," he said roughly. "Then tomorrow I will have something for you, and you will have something for me."

Without waiting for her response, he stepped back but didn’t return to the chair. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her.

Naya settled back down into bed and turned her back to him. But after a while, her body softened, drowsy and ready for sleep. She turned her head back, and he was still there.

Naya woke with a gasp, her breath hitched, her body slick with sweat. Heat coiled in her belly, the lingering tendrils of pleasure still ghosting along her skin, her thighs quivering with need. The dream still clung to her, vivid and overpowering—the stretch of hot sand beneath her, the sun blistering her skin, her Alpha’s body above hers, inside hers, taking, giving, consuming.

Her fingers were already moving, seeking relief, seeking him?—

But he wasn’t there.

Her breath faltered, and her pulse stuttered as the haze of sleep cleared. She wasn’t tangled beneath his weight, breathless from his rough thrusts, his voice murmuring filth into her ear.

She was in her chamber, the cool night air teasing her damp skin.

And he was still there. Watching.

Akoro stood exactly where he had been when she’d collapsed into sleep hours before. The silver moonlight painted his dark features in shadowed relief, his eyes locked on her, unblinking, unreadable. Tension crackled between them, thick, electric, as if the air itself carried the remnants of her dream, her desire, her shame.

Her thighs pressed together, slick pooling between them, mortified.

He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. He could scent her.

Heat rushed up her neck, and she turned her face, her lips parting as she tried to gather her wits, to grasp onto logic. “You—” Her voice came out breathy, her body still pulsing, aching. “You’re not supposed to?—”

“I know.” His voice was low, rough. But there was a hunger in it, a restraint stretched to its limit. He stepped closer, and the air between them grew tight, suffocating. “I agreed not to fuck you.” His eyes gleamed in the dim light, fierce, unrelenting. “But I never agreed not to watch you fuck yourself.”

A shiver raced down her spine, her skin pebbling, her stomach clenching tight. Her fingers curled into the sheets, the warmth between her legs pulsing harder, demanding relief.

He saw it. He always saw it.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something dark, sinful. “You ache for me even when you fight it.”

A soft, helpless whimper slipped past her lips. She clenched her thighs harder, but it was no use. She was drenched, her body begging, her instincts screaming for her Alpha’s touch, for his cock, for his claim.

His breath was uneven, ragged. “Let me see you, tmot zia .”

She snapped her gaze to him, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. “No.”

His lips curved in the faintest smirk, but his hands flexed at his sides, betraying his struggle. “I won’t touch you. I’ll be good, just like you asked.” His voice lowered, coaxing, taunting. “But let me watch. Let me see how sweet you are when you fall apart.”

Her entire body shuddered, the words scraping along her nerve endings, winding her tighter, hotter. She shouldn’t. She couldn’t.

But she wanted to. And he knew it.

Slowly, painfully, he moved toward the bed, his massive body lowering beside her, close but not touching. Heat radiated from him, scorching her skin, the scent of his arousal thick, potent, devastating.

“Show me, Naya.” His voice was a rasp, his control slipping. “Let me hear you.”

Her breath caught. And her fingers slid lower, slipping into her wet heat, a broken moan falling from her lips as her body arched.

His groan was deep, guttural, his fists clenched tight. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice full of reverence, of possession. “Let me hear how good it feels.”

She was lost, drowning in sensation, in the burn of his gaze, in the way his breath shuddered against her skin. His lips parted, his pupils blown wide as he watched her, as he listened to the wet, sinful sounds of her fingers working herself open.

She moved faster, her body tightening, her release building, and then?—

A deep, rumbling growl vibrated beside her, and his breath was at her ear, scorching, branding her. “Come for me, Omega.”

The command shattered her.

She cried out, her body bowing, waves of pleasure crashing through her, searing, endless. His voice was in her ear, his own moans thick, pained, guttural as he listened to her shatter.

As she came down, her body trembling, he exhaled sharply, his own restraint breaking for a moment. His hand fisted in the sheets beside her, his entire body tight with tension, as if he were barely holding himself together.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only with their harsh breaths, with the scent of her release, with the remnants of her dream still thick in the air.

Then, his voice, soft but low, “I can wait, tmot zia . Next time, I won’t be so good.”