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CHAPTER TWENTY

T he journey back to Onn Kkulma stretched across two days of desert silence, broken only by the rhythmic thud of nnirae hooves against hard-packed sand and the occasional murmur of wind through stone formations.

Naya rode behind Akoro, her arms circling his waist with careful tenderness, mindful of the bandages wrapped around his shoulder where Otenyo’s crossbow bolt had found its mark.

Around them, his soldiers and battle chief formed a protective barrier, and escorted the wounded king home.

His scent enveloped her—deep, familiar Alpha musk now tinged with the metallic edge of blood and the bitter herbs she’d used to treat his wound.

Each breath filled her lungs with him, that intoxicating blend that made her inner Omega purr with satisfaction even as her heart clenched with unspoken dread.

The storm was gone. Their agreement fulfilled.

She should be making arrangements to return home.

Instead she pressed closer to his broad back, feeling the steady expansion of his ribs with each breath, the flex of muscle beneath her palms. Her thighs bracketed his hips, and even through layers of travel clothing, she could sense the coiled strength that marked him as hers.

The possessive thought sent heat spiraling through her core despite the complicated tangle of emotions knotting her chest.

“How’s the pain?” she asked, her lips close to his ear.

“Manageable,” he replied, his voice rough from exhaustion and blood loss. But his free hand moved to cover hers where it rested against his chest, fingers intertwining with gentle pressure. “Better with you here.”

The simple admission made her heart flutter against her ribs.

Such a small confession, yet it carried the force of everything they’d shared—nights tangled together in desperate passion, quiet conversations over evening meals, the way he’d looked at her when she’d channeled the nnin-eellithi through her body like liquid lightning.

They spoke little during the ride, both lost in private thoughts that neither seemed willing to voice.

But the silence between them hummed with unresolved tension, thick with the awareness that time was running out.

Every mile that brought them closer to Onn Kkulma was another step toward the moment when she would have to choose—her empire and home, or this impossible connection that had become as essential as breathing.

When Akoro swayed slightly in his saddle, exhaustion finally claiming its due, Naya’s arms tightened around him instinctively. “We should stop,” she said. “You need rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You’re not.” Her tone was firm, and he responded to the authority in it—his Alpha nature recognizing her determination even in his weakened state. “There’s shelter ahead. We’re stopping.”

He didn’t protest when Nrommo called for a halt beside a cluster of ruins that offered protection from the desert wind.

Naya helped him dismount, her hands gentle but firm as she guided him to sit against a sun-warmed stone wall.

In the golden afternoon light, she could see how pale he’d grown beneath his natural bronze, how carefully he moved to favor his injured shoulder.

“Let me check the bandages,” she said, kneeling beside him.

His dark eyes followed her movements as she unwrapped the makeshift dressing, cataloging every detail of her face with an intensity that made her skin flush with awareness.

Even weakened, even in pain, he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in his world.

The hunger in his gaze sent answering heat pooling low in her belly, her scent shifting to something richer despite her efforts to maintain control.

“The bleeding has stopped,” she reported, though her voice came out softer than intended. “No signs of infection.”

“Good,” he murmured, but his attention had shifted to the delicate skin of her throat, watching the rapid flutter of her pulse. “Naya.”

“Yes?”

“When we reach the palace...” He trailed off, jaw clenching as though the words required physical effort to produce.

Her hands stilled against his shoulder. “What?”

He met her gaze, and for a moment she saw past the Alpha dominance to the man beneath—vulnerable, uncertain, desperate not to lose what they’d found together. “It can wait.”

But she read the question in his eyes, the same one that had been haunting her own thoughts. What happens now? Their agreement had been clear from the beginning—help him stop the storm, then return to her empire. Yet here they sat, both avoiding the conversation that would determine their future.

“Rest,” she said instead, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “We’ll talk when you’re stronger.”

He caught her wrist as she started to pull away, his thumb stroking across her racing pulse. “Stay close.”

“Always,” she whispered, the word escaping before she could stop it.

The ruins on the outskirts of Onn Kkulma were a welcome sight. Naya never thought she would miss seeing them, but relief flooded through her when they rose in the distance.

The palace gleamed in the harsh desert light when they finally arrived. Servants rushed forward as their small procession entered the courtyard, alarm rippling through the crowd as they took in their king’s condition and the blood-stained bandages visible beneath his travel robes.

“My king!” The palace healer appeared as though summoned by magic, his weathered face creased with concern. “What happened?”

“Crossbow bolt,” Akoro said curtly, allowing Naya to help him dismount despite the curious stares of the gathered servants. “Clean the wound properly and stitch it closed.”

“The healing chambers, my king,” the physician said. “If you’ll come with me?—”

“My chambers,” Akoro interrupted, his voice dropping to that Alpha tone that made argument impossible. “Princess Naya will assist with my treatment.”

Heat flooded Naya’s face at the implication, but she didn’t correct him.

The truth was, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him in someone else’s care.

Her inner Omega… no, her instincts, demanded that she tend to her wounded Alpha, ensure his recovery with her own hands.

The primitive need overrode any concern about palace gossip or impropriety.

They made their way through corridors that felt both familiar and strange after her time in the hidden canyon.

The opulent tapestries and gleaming marble seemed almost excessive now, a sharp contrast to the practical beauty she’d grown accustomed to among the Omegas.

Yet being here with Akoro felt right in ways that made her chest ache with longing.

His chambers were exactly as she remembered—massive windows overlooking the city, rich fabrics in deep blues and golds, the enormous bed where they’d spent so many passionate nights together.

Servants scurried to prepare hot water and fresh linens while the physician laid out his instruments with practiced efficiency.

“Remove your robes, my king,” the physician instructed.

Akoro’s eyes found Naya’s across the room. “Everyone out,” he said quietly. “Except the princess.”

“My king, I really should—” the physician began.

“Out.” The command resonated with absolute authority.

Once they were alone, Naya helped him ease out of his blood-stained clothing, her fingers careful as she peeled fabric away from the wound. His skin was fever-hot beneath her touch, radiating the kind of heat that spoke of his body fighting infection despite her careful field treatment.

“This needs professional cleaning,” she said, studying the ragged edges where the bolt had torn through muscle. “And proper stitching.”

“Then do it,” he said simply.

Her hands stilled. “Akoro, I’m not a healer?—”

“You have battle training,” he said, his voice rough with something deeper than pain. “That means you have basic healing skills.” His eyes searched hers. “You’re my Omega. I trust your hands more than anyone else’s.”

The designation sent fire racing through her veins despite her attempts to remain clinical.

Her scent shifted involuntarily, sweetening with the arousal that always accompanied his casual claims of possession.

His nostrils flared in response, dark eyes heating even as he struggled to remain still beneath her ministrations.

“I need proper supplies,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“Whatever you need.”

She called for the physician’s instruments and healing supplies, then set to work with the same focused attention she’d applied to magical theory.

Akoro remained perfectly still as she cleaned the wound, his jaw clenched against pain but his eyes never leaving her face.

The intimacy of the moment—tending to her Alpha’s injury, ensuring his recovery with her own careful touch—sent satisfaction humming through her bones.

“The bolt missed the major vessels,” she reported as she began the delicate work of stitching torn muscle back together. “You were fortunate.”

“Not fortunate,” he corrected, his voice strained but certain. “Protected. By you.”

“I didn’t protect you from getting shot.”

“You kept me conscious during the ride. Stopped the bleeding. Forced me to rest when I would have pushed too hard.” His free hand lifted to cup her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin with reverent gentleness. “You saved my life, tmot zia .”

The endearment in his native tongue sent heat spiraling through her core, though she still didn’t understand its meaning. Now the word fell from his lips like a caress, intimate and claiming in ways that made her inner Omega keen with pleasure.

“Hold still,” she murmured, though her own hands had begun to tremble at his proximity. “Almost finished.”