Page 22 of Sins of His Wrath (Myth of Omega: Wrath #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

N aya stared at the council members, struggling to process what they had just told her. "A nnin-eellithi storm is coming?" she repeated, the words alarming even to her own ears.

Prillu nodded and gestured to the map spread across the table, where all the council members sat. "Yes, princess. The nnin-eellithi storm we've been tracking will reach Onn Kkulma in one month instead of six."

Naya stared at the map. "What is a nnin - eellithi storm?"

The council members’ grave faces were a sign it wasn’t good. Tshel stepped forward, her red robes swaying gently as she moved closer to the table.

"A nnin-eellithi storm occurs when two or more nnin-eellithi are trapped together," she explained. "They merge and feed off each other, and grow exponentially more powerful—up to eight times stronger than a single entity."

Tshel's fingers traced a pattern across the map, following invisible lines that only she seemed to see. "The storms travel along established pathways through the Sands, paths marked by previous magical destruction. We monitor them constantly and can usually track them many months in advance."

Naya's stomach clenched as the implications sank in. If a single nnin-eellithi could devastate a city as she had witnessed... what could a storm do? Images of the destruction she'd already caused blazed through her mind—blood-stained walls, collapsed buildings, orphaned children. Multiplied by eight. Her throat tightened. "If these storms follow established pathways," she asked slowly, "why would it come to Onn Kkulma? There must be other pathways it could take?"

Oppo spoke, his voice sombre, and Tshel translated his words. "Storms have been coming into the region since the region was destroyed," he explained through Tshel. "Usually, they miss Onn Kkulma entirely. But there is an existing pathway that runs directly through the city." His eyes met hers, hurt and pain gleaming.

Understanding dawned on Naya with sharp precision. The second wave—when someone from the Known Lands had supposedly unleashed a second attack on the Sy Dynasty, that was the destruction that had left these people’s cherished city in ruins.

Her gaze drifted to where Akoro stood in the corner of the room, silent and brooding. He was still, but his presence filled the space like a gathering hurricane. His jaw was locked tight, the muscles flickering with barely controlled fury. Yet he wasn’t directing it at anyone in particular.

She exhaled and turned back to the council. "Could my actions have caused this?" The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it. "When I drew the nnin-eellithi into the city to escape... could that have sped up the storm's approach?"

Prillu shook her head firmly. "The storm was already forming, princess. It was coming regardless, just later." Her voice softened slightly. "We would have had more time, that's all."

"More time to invade my land, you mean?"

A silence settled over the room, thick with discomfort. No one met her gaze directly.

Nrommo, who had been so openly combative since she’d met him, now sat with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable—as if he still couldn’t fully grasp the reality of their situation. Nanaek, who had barely concealed her hostility a few days ago, now watched Naya with something unsettlingly close to hope.

The shift was jarring. These people had been obstacles, enemies even, during her first days of captivity. Now they looked at her as if she were their salvation.

Naya straightened her shoulders. "Are you all willing to help me now?" Her voice was even, but there was an edge to it.

She met Nrommo’s stare, then Nanaek’s. "No more resistance?"

Her gaze swept over the rest of them, holding each one accountable. "No more refusing to answer my questions?"

A murmur of agreement moved through the council, quiet but certain. Some shifted uncomfortably, looking away, while others nodded with conviction.

"We will provide whatever assistance you require, princess," Ranin said, bowing his head slightly.

But whether they had truly accepted her—or simply had no other choice—remained to be seen.

"Good." Naya nodded, drawing a deep breath. "Then I need to negotiate this with the zmola ." She gestured toward the door. "You are all dismissed."

A ripple of shock passed through the council.

It was clear they had never been dismissed from the king’s strategy room by anyone but Akoro himself. Their hesitation was almost comical—uncertain glances darted between her and their ruler, as if waiting for him to countermand her words.

But Akoro remained silent, statue-still in the corner, watching.

Oppo, however, grinned, a flash of genuine amusement flickering across his face.

One by one, the council members rose, filing toward the exit in stiff, reluctant movements. Some left quickly, eager to be free of the tension. Others lingered just long enough to cast curious, speculative glances over their shoulders.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud.

Naya turned fully to face Akoro.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Silence stretched between them, taut with everything that had passed between them and everything still unresolved.

She could demand that he ask for her help. She could force him to humble himself after everything he had done to her—make him admit that he needed her, that his survival depended on her choices now.

But the words died in her throat.

Because as she studied him—this proud, unyielding Alpha who had killed his own family to save his people, who had endured the collapse of his civilization and rebuilt from nothing, who now stood on the precipice of losing it all again—she realized something.

He would never ask.

Not because of arrogance. Not because of pride.

But because he did not know how. Anything Akoro had, he had taken and built into something better.

The silence stretched, a slow pull of tension between them.

Then, finally, Akoro spoke. "You dismissed my council."

Naya lifted her chin. "I did."

A flicker of something passed through his dark eyes. Then, to her utter surprise, his lips curved, just slightly. "Interesting."

His gaze held hers, fathomless and intense. "You can have your full two weeks," he said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber.

Naya shook her head slowly. "No. No time limit."

She stepped closer, closing the space between them inch by inch, her pulse steady even as awareness prickled along her skin. "We work together to solve this problem—ruler supporting ruler. And we stop only when the threat is gone."

Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps. Or something deeper, something unguarded. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, might let pride and fury drive him to another ultimatum.

"I never wanted you working on the Solution," he said, each word deliberate and low, like thunder before a storm breaks.

Naya regarded him warily. The surrounding air seemed to contract with the energy of the pull between them—that invisible, inexorable force that drew her to him despite everything. "It doesn’t surprise me you wanted to impede me."

"No." Something shifted in his expression—vulnerability, perhaps, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared. His shoulders cast a vast shadow across the table as he leaned forward. "I don’t believe the Solution exists. Many have tried before and failed. Many have died trying." His voice dropped lower, a graveled whisper. "You are capable. There is no doubt about it. But magic here is not the gentle force your people wield. It tears flesh from bone. It consumes. It destroys. I did not want risking your life."

The raw intensity of his words stirred something primal within her. Not just her Omega recognizing her Alpha's concern, but something deeper—the realization that beneath his ruthlessness lay fear. Fear for her. “And now?” Naya asked, somewhat breathlessly. “Now that this storm is coming? You want me to stop?”

He moved then, with that predatory grace that seemed impossible for a man his size. Three steps and he was before her, one hand planted on the table beside her, the other against the wall. He didn't touch her, but his presence surrounded her—his heat and that scent that still haunted her dreams.

The space between them was alive, shifting into an uncharted.

“You can focus on the Solution, Naya,” he said, his dark gaze locked onto hers. “But I will be focused on you. Your safety. You’re still mine.”

The next four days plunged Naya and Akoro's council into relentless research, a rhythm emerging. They spent from dawn until dusk in the Archive, surrounded by ancient scrolls, weathered tablets, and dusty tomes containing accounts of previous storms and failed Solution attempts. something fundamental had shifted. The once-suspicious glances from the council members had transformed into expressions of cautious hope and each member contributed their expertise. Naya could see why Akoro chose them. They were brutally honest, yet respectful.

Akoro himself worked alongside Naya with quiet intensity, his commanding presence revealing unexpected depths of knowledge about his land's history and magic. On the third day, Prillu discovered mention of a mysterious "signet" in a tattered scroll from a previous Solution attempt—described only as "crucial to controlling the flow." No one knew what it meant, but Prillu and Tshel were tasked with investigating further.

Naya’s nights fell into their own pattern. Naya would return to her chambers, but sleep refused to come until she sensed Akoro's presence watching over her from the shadows of her room. Her body had developed a dependency on him, as though his Alpha presence had become essential to her rest. It still frustrated her how completely her instincts had surrendered to him, even as part of her welcomed the security his vigilance provided. Despite herself, she found her awareness of him heightening with each passing night, her inner Omega increasingly attuned to his every movement, his every breath in the darkness.

On the fourth night, Akoro was later than usual. Naya lay awake, staring at the patterned ceiling, frustration keeping her tense and unable to relax. Where was he? She tossed and turned, annoyed with herself for noticing his absence so acutely.

When he finally arrived, slipping into her chambers like a shadow, she feigned sleep, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing she'd waited for him.

"You're not fooling anyone, Naya," he rumbled, amusement threaded through his tone in the darkness.

She kept her eyes stubbornly closed, her breathing deliberately even.

The wooden chair beside her bed creaked as he settled into it. "You may miss me," he murmured. “You can wait for me too.”

Her eyes snapped open, finding his outline in the dim light filtering through the latticed windows. "I wasn't waiting for you," she lied, the words sharp but not entirely convincing.

His chuckle was deep, resonant. "No? Then why aren't you asleep?"

She scowled, turning away from him. But even as she did, something inside her settled, a tension unwinding now that he was here. It was infuriating how right he was, how well he knew her body's responses to him.

The next night, as moonlight painted silver patterns across her bedchamber floor, Akoro broke their usual silence with a question.

"Your parents," Akoro said, his tone thoughtful. "How did they find each other? Was it through one of your pairing events?"

Naya shifted, surprised by the question.

The memory of her recent conversation with Mama surfaced—the revelation that had reshaped everything she thought she knew about her parents' relationship.

"No," she said carefully. "Mama told me recently that it didn’t start well."

Akoro’s head tilted slightly. "Didn’t start well," he repeated, his voice edged with curiosity. "What does that mean?"

Naya hesitated. She wasn’t ready to share the full truth, to unravel the complexities of her parents’ past before she had unraveled her own.

"Just that they had obstacles to overcome," she said vaguely. "It wasn’t smooth at first."

Silence stretched between them, thick with implications.

Then his voice came—softer this time, contemplative. "Does that mean I have a chance?"

The question struck her like a blow to the chest.

Her breath hitched as she sat up, turning to face him in the darkness. "A chance at what?"

"At what they have," he said simply. "What you described—the comfort, the completion, the support."

Something flickered in her stomach, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

He wanted that? With her?

The thought sent a slow warmth through her, pooling low in her abdomen, making her pulse quicken. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Then, finally, she found her voice. "Would you want that?"

The answer came without hesitation. "Yes."

The word lingered in the space between them—unshaken, unadorned, absolute.

Her throat constricted. "Which land would we lead together?"

This time, it was Akoro who fell silent. And in his silence, she had her answer.

The following evening, he returned to the subject, his deep voice slicing through the quiet of her bedchamber. "The way your parents are with each other—is it instinctual? Or something they cultivated?"

Naya shifted, rolling onto her side to face him, his silhouette a shadow in the dim light. "Both, I think," she said, considering. "The connection itself is instinctual—the pull between Alpha and Omega, the way they recognize and respond to each other’s needs. But the partnership they’ve built, the way they rule together… that took work. Commitment. Their bond made it possible."

"Their bond," Akoro said, the words slow, thoughtful.

Naya hesitated, then continued. "When an Omega bonds with her Alpha, it creates something permanent. It's not just physical—it runs deeper than that. Something that can’t be broken."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

Akoro didn’t reply, but she could feel the weight of his contemplation, the thoughts turbulent behind his unreadable exterior.

She wondered if the idea of a bond—of something unbreakable—was something he had ever allowed himself to want.

As each day passed, her body's desire for him intensified. His possessive hands on her skin, his claiming mouth against her neck, the delicious weight of him on top of her—these thoughts plagued her at night, tormenting her when she should have been focusing on the Solution. She tried to blame her inner Omega, but the truth was more complex. It wasn't just hormones and instinct driving her toward him now. It was something else, something that had taken root at some point.

On the sixth day, the servant who had replaced Meiro forgot to bring her kkermo with her morning meal. By the time Naya reached the strategy room, her mood was foul, her head pounding with the beginnings of withdrawal.

"Someone's in a temper," Nrommo observed, earning him a glare that could have withered steel.

Tshel glanced up from her scrolls, brows raised. "No kkermo this morning, highness?"

Naya's scowl deepened. "No."

To her surprise, several of the council members laughed, the sound startling in the usually tense atmosphere of their meetings.

"It's not funny," she complained.

"Forgive us, princess," Ranin said, failing to hide his amusement. "But your reaction is quite common. Kkermo is notoriously addictive, even with moderate consumption."

“Most foreigners find it too bitter,” Akoro said

"I did at first. It's quite different from anything we have in the empire,” Naya told them. “I can’t believe I’ve lived without it.” She turned to Prillu. “Where is Meiro? I miss her attending to me.”

Prillu stilled over the map, her expression sobering. "She was injured during the attack, highness," she said quietly. "When… the nnin-eellithi entered the city."

A cold weight settled in Naya's stomach. "How badly?"

"Badly enough," Prillu said, her voice carefully neutral. "She was near the marketplace when it happened. The healers say she will recover, but it will take time."

Naya struggled to avoid the guilt this time. Another victim of her desperate escape, another innocent caught in the crossfire of her actions. "Can I—is there anything I can do for her?"

Prillu's eyes met hers. "Focus on finding the Solution, highness. That would be the greatest help to her and all those who suffered."

That night, when Akoro came to her room, Naya was already awake, sitting up in bed, a cup of palm wine in her hands.

"Join me," she said, gesturing to a second cup she'd had brought to her room. "In honor of Meiro’s healing."

Akoro hesitated, then moved to take the drink, his massive frame settling onto the edge of her bed rather than his usual chair. The proximity sent her pulse racing, but she forced herself to remain still.

They drank in silence, sip after sip, the earthy sweetness filling her mouth. Her mind swirled with thoughts. The drink made her drowsy, softening the edges of her thoughts, loosening her tongue.

"Do you miss her?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Akoro turned, his brow furrowed. "Miss who?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "My inner Omega.”

Akoro stared at her, his body angling toward her. “What is your inner Omega?”

Naya found she couldn’t explain. “You know.” Heat crept along her neck and burned her cheeks. “Th-that part of me. The one that…” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “…wants you.”

A flicker of understanding crossed his face, though his expression remained intensely serious. "You shut away your desire for me?”

Naya opened her mouth but didn’t know how to answer, the heat now flaring all over her head.

A growl erupted in his throat, but he reached out, fingertips brushing a wave of hair from her face, the contact sending shivers down her spine. "I miss you every single night, tmot zia ,” he murmured. “I miss you deeply, with every part of me."

The words settled over her like a caress, igniting a need she couldn’t act on.

The following night, Naya was already sitting up in bed as Akoro entered her chamber. She had lost track of the days, so consumed by her research that time blurred together. But as he stepped into the dim light, a realization settled over her. Over four days had passed since she’d been working with the council.

She met his gaze. "What happened to our deal?"

He stilled. "What deal?"

"My heat," she clarified, heat rising to her cheeks. "You said five days of research, and then..."

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was stiffer, more controlled. "The situation has changed. You can’t be in your heat for days when you’re needed to work on this problem. But I want it as soon as I can."

Even in the darkness, she could feel the frustration simmering beneath his restraint. The disappointment.

His need for her—a need she mirrored more and more

"Is my inner Omega that appealing to you?" she asked softly, "That you need me in a state where I'm not fully myself?"

Akoro moved closer, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat beside her. "You are stunning whether or not you’re in your heat,” he said, each word slow and deliberate. "I told you yesterday, I want you all the time. In your heat, you’re uninhibited and passionate and raw. I love that, but…” He hesitated, and she held her breath. “But there's only one reason I want it again."

Naya's curiosity peaked. "Because I'm so eager for you?"

"No."

"Because I can get pregnant?"

He said nothing for a moment. "No."

“Because I’m not myself, not a princess, just an Omega?”

“No.”

Frustration crept into her voice. "Then what?"

He leaned forward, his scent drifting to her. "Because you kissed me," he said simply.

The memory flashed through her mind—her lips against his, hungry and desperate, their breath mingling, their bodies pressed together.

"You've never kissed me since," he said, voice coarse. "Not once. I can fuck you for hours, make you scream, make you sob with pleasure, and still—no kiss."

The need in his voice sent heat pooling low in her belly.

"I-I didn’t know. I didn't think you'd want that," she whispered.

His voice was harsh, disbelieving. "Not want it? I dream about your mouth, Naya. The taste of your tongue, the softness of your lips, the way you hum when your mouth is on mine." He exhaled, heavy and sombre, and muttered to himself. “Fuck.”

The air between them thickened with tension, with want. Naya swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close he was, how easy it would be to lean forward, to press her lips to his.

But she didn't. Couldn't. Not yet.

Because despite everything—despite their days working side by side, their nights of quiet confessions, the undeniable pull between them—there remained a chasm neither had fully crossed. A divide created by his determination to invade her land, to claim her empire as his own. By the wounds he had inflicted—some that had already scarred, and others that still bled.

And she was, effectively, a queen now.

Every choice she made carried consequences. Even this one.