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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F or the next three days, Akoro found himself living by a rhythm that felt both foreign and fundamental.

Each night, he would watch Naya put her clothes back on, her movements efficient yet graceful as she prepared to head back to the Omega community for the night.

Her clothes weren’t particularly revealing—they clung to her curves in ways that made his hands crave to touch her, but he restrained himself, content to observe the ritual of her departure.

He would take her into the swirling heat of the Isshiran Sands and place her down where he couldn’t go further, and he would stand watching until she was gone from sight. Only then would restlessness take hold—a gnawing need for her return that no amount of distraction could fully silence.

He sent word to his council using five of his men that he was pursuing critical intelligence in the desert. Until further notice, they were to handle routine matters without him. The decision had been practical, yet it freed him in ways he hadn’t expected. His days belonged entirely to her.

The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness.

He would bathe using the bathing tube, check on his men, inspect their supplies, patrol the boundaries of their sand drift, groom his nnirae , clean weapons—anything to fill the time until evening brought her back to him.

But nothing eased the constant awareness of her absence, the way his instincts pulled toward the horizon where she would eventually reappear.

And when she finally appeared each evening, everything in him calmed.

Satisfaction poured through him like heat after cold, thick and settling.

The sight of her silhouette emerging from the heat haze never failed to provoke him, unlock that tight coil in his chest that only her presence eased.

But it was the evenings that had begun to reshape something fundamental within him.

The first night she returned flushed with excitement about her breakthrough with the crystal staffs.

Her excitement aroused him so much, he couldn’t concentrate until he’d had his mouth on her, made her shudder and scream and plead until her cunt was puffy and drenched, and they were both satisfied.

“You were right,” she said, settling against his chest exhausted. “When I hold the staff and use my awareness the way I learned at home, I can feel something.”

Then she explained how her awareness worked—the way it allowed her to sense magical vibrations across vast distances, like being simultaneously conscious of an entire empire at once.

Here, when she extended that same awareness while holding an Omega staff, the reach expanded ten-fold.

The staff gave her control and the ability to concentrate her awareness in specific directions instead of all directions at once.

He didn’t always understand everything she said, but her enthusiasm about these discoveries stirred something possessive in him.

He’d never cuddled with a woman and she trusted him with these kinds of discoveries, sharing her successes and frustrations as though he were her partner rather than simply her temporary Alpha.

Even when they had been in her nest together, it hadn’t been as good as this.

“Don’t you need to return to the palace?

” she asked the next evening, accepting the plate of food he’d prepared.

He’d been furious to learn that she forgot to eat when she’s so consumed with the magical work, so feeding her had become one of his priorities.

“How are you able to stay in the sand drift for so long?” she asked. “Won’t your throne miss you?”

“I sent word to Prillu,” he said, watching her take careful bites of the seasoned meat. “She knew where we were going when we left Ntorkkan. The council can handle routine matters.”

She chewed for a moment, her face scrunched in curious thought in the most adorable way. “But is there a protocol if the king goes missing?”

“There is.” A smile played on his face. “But it would take much longer than two weeks to invoke it. It’d have to be months of confirmed absence before they’d consider succession planning. And even then, it would be open for me to return and retake the throne any time I want.”

“Ah, right,” she said knowingly, laughter in her voice. “Because you’re divine. You could come back from the dead and rule. You can be king forever.”

He snorted while she giggled and stuffed more food in her mouth. He’d found himself oddly pleased by her questions, by this sign that she wanted to understand his responsibilities, his rule. Moments later, she was asking more.

“How did you learn all these procedures?” Naya finished her mouthful and was looking at him with a more serious gaze. “About ruling, managing a council, organizing a kingdom? I thought you were young when you took over. When had you spent time learning all that?”

“I didn’t,” he said, moving a plate of cubed, spiced potatoes in front of her.

“Oppo was the one who knew it all and got everything started. But there were also many people who wanted to help. Citizens who understood systems, former dynasty members who knew administrative processes.” He paused, his chest warming at her attentive expression.

“I had a lot of help. Sometimes, though, the traditions feel suffocating. Formalities for no reason other than to make me suffer.”

Her laugh had been soft and knowing. She took a forkful of potatoes. “Yes. In my empire, too. I understand the necessity of proper procedures, but sometimes I think we could solve problems in half the time if we didn’t need seventeen different approvals for every decision.”

He frowned. “I thought you only had to get approval from your father?”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” she almost huffed.

“But his commander, my Uncle Torin, doesn’t like him to be bothered with things someone else can do or can decide.

There’s a whole team of administrators, and generals, and Lox law specialists and scribes…

” She rolled her eyes, and he’d chuckled, enjoying how animated she was.

They’d talked about that for most of the evening—the frustration of paperwork and approval, the balance between necessary structure and efficient action.

He was surprised at how easy the conversation had been—easy and natural, like they were simply two people who happened to understand similar burdens, rather than a captor and his captive.

The next night, she’d returned, almost bouncing around with another breakthrough.

Even one of the older Omegas, who had been cautious about Naya’s experiments, was excited about her progress.

He’d growled that if she was going to bounce about, it needed to be on his cock.

And she did, working him while he sucked on her slender neck and perfect breasts.

Now she lay sprawled across his chest, copper hair mussed over her head, her breathing finally steady.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her fingers brushing randomly along his chest.

“Anything,” he replied. And he meant it.

“You’ve been away from your duties for days now. Doesn’t that worry you? Being separated from direct control?”

He considered the question and was surprised to realize the answer.

“No. For the first time in years, it doesn’t.

” His hand found her scalp, threading through the strands with gentle possession.

“I admit, I spent so long believing everything would collapse without my constant attention. Believing I need total control. But my people are capable. My council knows their responsibilities, and they are devoted to me.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” she said, tilting her head to look at him. “How we convince ourselves we’re vital when really, good systems can function without constant scrutiny.”

“You feel this way about your empire?”

“Sometimes. I’ve been so focused on proving I’m worthy of the throne that I forgot other people might actually want to help shoulder the burden.

” She shifted against him, her soft curves molding to his harder frame in ways that stirred him despite their recent coupling.

“If you weren’t king,” she said then, “if duty hadn’t claimed you, what would you have wanted to do with your life? ”

The question hit him unexpectedly. No one had ever asked him that—not his council, not his brother, certainly not himself. He’d taken the throne in childhood, and once that happened, he’d stopped thinking about other options and let that role define him.

He frowned, thinking back to before he became aware of all the death and destruction.

When he was just laughing and enjoying his time with the elders and his brother.

When joy was easily found. “Before I understood what being a king meant, I used to spend time in the outer villages helping wherever I was needed. Building homes for families, organizing food distribution during difficult seasons, settling disputes between neighbors.” He paused, remembering.

“I think I would have wanted to be some kind of community organizer. Someone who helped villages solve their problems and grow stronger.”

Naya lifted her head, surprise sparking in her brown eyes. “Really? Instead of having all this power, you would settle squabbles over goats and garden walls?”

“The most ruthlessly efficient dispute resolution in all of Tsashokra,” he said solemnly. “There would be charts. Schedules. A tribunal of terrified elders.”

“And a dungeon for repeat offenders who dare to prune hedges past the boundary line,” she added, her mouth twitching.

He nodded gravely. “Justice must be swift. And symmetrical.”

Naya dissolved into laughter first, her whole body shaking against his, and the sound was so infectious that he found himself laughing too. Deep, genuine laughter that seemed to come from somewhere he’d forgotten existed.