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Before either could speak further, she heard the sound of a throat clearing. She turned to the tent entrance and saw Oppo, his usually composed features tight with trepidation.

“Oppo!” Akoro thundered. He spoke rapidly in their language, but Oppo was looking at Naya,

When he spoke, the words tumbled over each other with quiet desperation.

Akoro exhaled, as if tempering himself. He translated with visible patience. “He wants to know if you saw Oshrun, if she’s coming to see him with Nnimi.”

Naya’s heart swung low at the sight of Oppo’s anxious face.

“I told her you were here,” she said gently.

“She knows. But I don’t know if or when she’ll come.

The community is still adjusting to the alliance, and some of them are struggling to accept this change.

She can’t leave them unattended just yet.

” She glanced at Akoro. “Be kind when you translate.”

“I know,” he said, somewhat irritably. “But everyone knows not to just enter my tent like that, especially when you’re onsite.

” He shot her a dark look. “We could’ve been fucking already.

” Taking his time, Akoro translated what she said.

Oppo’s face fell slightly before he nodded with visible effort to compose himself.

“ Nuk tae tikshon nli?k hhe nnu? ppo tshi?ke shi? lleae ,” Oppo said to her, inclining his head respectfully before leaving.

“What did he say?”

“May the sands of your day fall smooth and undisturbed. It sort of translates to thank you, in this context.” Akoro watched Oppo leave. “He understands.”

The moment the tent flap fell closed behind him, Naya moved to Akoro and reached for the fastenings of his robes.

His nose flared, a gruff sound rumbling from him as her fingers worked at the ties, but he didn’t move, didn’t help, didn’t stop her.

He simply watched with those dark eyes, scent becoming musky and delicious, as she slowly exposed the broad expanse of his chest.

“Naya.” He said her name like a warning, gritty and guttural. “We were talking.”

Naya glanced up at him playfully. “I don’t come here to talk.”

A vicious growl ripped from Akoro’s chest, and he clamped his hand around hers, locking her fingers still. His eyes darkened, storm-black and unblinking.

Naya froze, shocked. His scent flooded the tent—dark, volatile, laced with something feral. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, every nerve attuned to him.

It was impossible to think with him this close, with her body already answering him.

But clearly, he didn’t like that she’d said that, so she watched, waiting and reveling, in the danger in his eyes.

This wasn’t the cruelty she’d experienced from him before, but a stormy blend of desire, possessiveness, and something else she couldn’t identify.

He hadn’t moved. Still standing in front of her, his huge grip locked around her hand, his body towering, rigid. His eyes burned into hers. But it wasn’t anger.

It was restraint.

Her fingers twitched in his hold, aching to touch him again. Her heart thudded in her chest, fast and shallow, her core already slick and pulsing. The tension stretched between them, thick with scent and want and some invisible thread that always snapped the moment they were alone.

“Akoro,” she whispered—not from fear, but challenge. “I want you. Now. Let go.”

His nostrils flared. His thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse stutter. Then he released her.

Naya reached for him again, slower this time, working the ties to slowly expose his chest again.

He didn’t stop her. Her hands skated over the hard muscle of his torso, lingering at the faded scars and soft skin over his ribs.

She dragged her nails lightly down, watching his abdomen twitch under the contact.

He didn’t speak. Just watched her, as she explored him like he belonged to her. Because, he did.

Each breath he took was slow, measured—but everything about him vibrated with coiled control.

His scent deepened with every slow drag of her palm.

Her nipples pebbled under the thin layer of her tunic, her core pulsing, slick already gathering between her legs.

She didn’t hesitate—she shoved him back. Hard.

He gave ground like he wanted her to make that move. When he hit the cushions, she followed and knelt at his side. Her Alpha’s eyes never left her, his expression taut, molten, savage. He was letting her control this, and it made her whole body tremble with need.

The tent’s low lamplight cast him in bronze and shadow as she loosened the ties of his trousers. When she freed him, his cock sprang forward, already thick, already hard, already leaking. She wrapped her fingers around him, tight and slow, her strokes deliberate.

His abdomen tensed. His scent turned heady, breath turned ragged.

She leaned forward and licked him once, unable to resist running a teasing pass of her tongue along the underside. He tasted just like she remembered—but he didn’t speak, still didn’t touch her. So she opened her mouth and took him in.

He throbbed against her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deep, letting him slide into the heat of her mouth. His thighs flexed under her hands, his breathing went shallow and sharp. Still, he remained motionless, his restraint vibrating off his skin like a storm barely leashed.

She loved it. Loved the way he gave her control and barely managed to survive it.

He tasted just like she remembered— salty, musky, intoxicating.

Her mouth watered as she took him deeper, chasing more of that heat, more of that helpless twitch beneath her tongue.

She closed her eyes and let herself drown in it.

She sucked him deep, slow, pulling back to swirl her tongue over the head, then sinking down again and again and again. His hips rocked once into her mouth before he caught himself, fists buried in the cushions behind him.

His whole body shook.

When her throat clenched around him, he groaned—low and guttural—and a tremor ran through his entire bulky frame. She let him go with a soft pop and rose, licking her lips as she stood. She was still wet and tasting him only made it worse. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them.

She straddled him and lifted her skirts high around her hips, her thighs smeared with slick. He looked up at her like she was something sacred and dangerous.

Gripping the base of his cock, she guided him to her entrance and lowered herself down. Inch by inch, she sank onto him, her thighs trembling with restraint, the stretch sharp and exquisite. Seated fully with a breathless tremble, every part of her clenched around him.

He let her take him fully, and still, he didn’t move.

Her muscles clenched reflexively. She braced her hands on his chest and began to ride, rocking her hips, grinding down to pull more friction from every stroke, chasing the pleasure that built like wildfire in her veins.

She set the rhythm, the pace, the depth.

She took everything she wanted, savoring how hard he was, how deep he went, how he let her use him.

His scent was wrecked now—primal, heady, thick with withheld control. His hands slid to her thighs but didn’t direct. They simply held, flexing each time she dropped her weight onto him.

She moved faster, harder. Testing the edges of his restraint. Her body burned, and she chased the fire, grinding down again and again until the tension threatened to snap.

And then he did.

With a savage growl, he grabbed her by the hips and drove upward into her, snapping his hips with brutal force.

She cried out, thrown off-balance as he took over, fucking her from below, his control finally shattered.

The sharp slap of skin echoed in the tent.

Her body opened to him, greedy for it, stretching wider around his cock with every savage thrust.

Naya’s breath left her in stutters, every strike pushing her higher. Her orgasm built hard and fast, clawing at her spine, curling her toes, until it broke—hard, sharp, devastating.

She cried out, body locking around him, tensing and convulsing.

Her Alpha sat up and wrapped a thick arm around her as he flipped her, slamming her down onto the cushions and pinning her beneath him.

He never pulled out. His thrusts deepened, rougher, brutal, savage. The kind that made her breathless and lit her nerves on fire. She writhed beneath him, nails clawing at his shoulders, her head tipped back as the pleasure built again.

He dragged her higher, opened her wider—and then she felt it.

The pressure and swell of his knot, still forming and thicker with each thrust. Her body welcomed it, greedy, aching, desperate to be filled.

Reacting on instinct, she fluttering around him, Omega slick pouring as her release tore through her in wild, unrelenting waves—intensely magnificent.

Her vision blurred as she whimpered and moaned, muscles locking around him like a vice.

And still he moved.

He thrust until he couldn’t anymore, until the thick bulge of his knot stretched her wide and seated him deep, locking him inside with a force that made her whimper.

His groan broke into a snarl as he came, hips jerking once, then grinding in tight circles as heat spilled inside her in long, hot pulses.

She trembled beneath him, pinned open, filled.

His weight lowered over her, his chest pressed to hers, cuddling her the way she loved while the possessive throb of his knot kept them joined. She lay breathing hard against his skin, her channel still pulsing slowly around him, utterly wrecked and completely his.

And for now, that was enough.