Page 65

ONE YEAR LATER

Akoro

M orning sun blazed through the tall windows, setting fire to marble floors that reflected amber and gold across surfaces polished to mirror perfection.

Akoro stood motionless at the edge of the room, dark eyes fixed on the vision before him—Naya cradling their infant daughter against her breast, copper hair tumbling over bare shoulders like molten flame.

Nnava’s tiny fist curled against skin, her dark eyes—mirrors of his own—gazing upward with sleepy contentment that sent primal satisfaction roaring through his chest. The scent of milk and innocence mingled with his mate’s intoxicating fragrance, creating an atmosphere so rich with completion that breathing became a conscious effort.

His daughter. His blood. The living proof of their bond made manifest in copper curls and determined chin.

Pride blazed through him, territorial and consuming.

This perfect creature had grown beneath Naya’s heart, been born from her strength, now fed from her body with the trust only innocence possessed.

Every fiber of his being hummed with the Alpha drive to protect, to provide, to ensure his females wanted for nothing.

“She refuses to sleep without you,” Naya murmured, voice soft and light. “Last night she fussed until I placed your shirt in her cradle.”

Dark amusement curved his mouth. “Intelligent girl. She knows her pappa’s scent means safety.”

Nnava finished nursing and settled into drowsy satisfaction.

Akoro moved forward, lifting her with reverent care—this tiny tyrant who commanded his devotion with nothing more than her existence.

She nuzzled into his chest, seeking warmth, and fierce protectiveness crashed over him like a nnin-eellithi storm.

“Perfect,” he breathed against downy hair. “Just like her mother.”

“She has your stubborn streak,” Naya said, stretching with feline grace. “Yesterday she screamed whenever the wet nurse approached. Only wanted me.”

“She recognizes quality.” His gaze devoured the sight of his mate—milk-heavy breasts, the soft curve of her belly that had sheltered their daughter, skin flushed with the contentment of a well-loved Omega. “No other hands should tend what’s ours.”

Heat bloomed in her scent, that succulent sweetness that still made his mouth water after all these months. Even exhausted from motherhood, she responded to his dominance with the same devastating honesty that had marked their earliest desperate couplings.

“Speaking of stubborn streaks,” Naya said, stretching like a cat in the morning light, “you mentioned something about eight grandchildren to Papa again during his last visit.”

Akoro’s grin turned wicked. “I may have promised him a full generation to carry on both our bloodlines.” His free hand gripped her thigh, her skin warm beneath his touch. “Are you questioning my commitment to keeping that promise, tmot zia ?”

Her scent shifted, that intoxicating sweetness that always made his mouth water. Even after bearing his child, after ruling beside him for a year, she still responded to his dominance with the same desperate hunger that had marked their first joining.

“Seven more children?” she asked, though her scent betrayed her arousal at the idea. “Ambitious, even for you.”

“I want to fill these chambers with laughter,” he said simply.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor. Nnimi burst through the doorway with excitement, followed by Oppo and Oshrun moving with more restraint.

“Where’s my cousin?” The five-year-old scrambled onto the bed with practiced ease. “I brought new drawings!”

Akoro watched with quiet pleasure as his niece spread elaborate artwork across the bedding—stick figures with better shapes now, and eyes had been included with the wild hair and enormous smiles.

There were family trees that included dozens of relatives both real and imagined.

The child’s artistic vision encompassed not just blood relations but the complex web of friendly faces that had transformed their world.

“See? That’s you and Aunt Naya, and baby Nnava, and these are all the cousins I want you to make,” Nnimi announced with matter-of-fact authority that reminded him powerfully of her mother. “At least six more. Maybe ten.”

Oppo choked on laughter while Oshrun’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment. His brother looked radiant—the glow of a man whose deepest dreams had been fulfilled beyond imagination.

“The Khesh speaks wisdom,” Akoro said solemnly, earning a delighted giggle from his niece. “Though perhaps we should space them appropriately.”

They discussed the flourishing state of Ilǐa.

Small groups of people were now visiting the district, the Omega’s fears dissolving into hope the more integrated they become in Tsashokra.

When Oshrun’s hand drifted protectively to her still-flat belly, confirming what Akoro’s heightened senses had already detected, satisfaction warmed him.

His brother would have the large family he deserved.

After their visitors departed for afternoon rest, Akoro settled Nnava in her cradle, watching until soft breathing assured him of peaceful slumber. When he turned back to Naya, hunger blazed through him like wildfire consuming dry brush.

“Alone at last,” he growled, stalking toward where she reclined against pillows.

“Akoro,” she warned, though her protest carried no conviction as his scent deepened around them. “The baby?—”

“Sleeps peacefully,” he finished, settling beside her and drawing her into his lap. “And her mother grows more beautiful each day.”

His hands traced reverently over curves motherhood had blessed her with—fuller breasts, softer belly, the subtle marks that proclaimed her as his in the most primal way possible.

Nursing had only enhanced her allure, transforming her body into something lush and generous that made his cock throb with desperate need.

“Even more beautiful now,” he said against her throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin where their bonding mark resided. “Watching you with our daughter drives me mad.”

Her breath caught as his mouth found that spot behind her ear that never failed to make her melt. When desperate hands moved to his robes, hunger roared through him like desert wind.

“I want you pregnant again,” he said, the words sending liquid fire straight to her core. “I want to watch you grow round with my sons and daughters. I want our children to have the family I didn’t growing up in.”

“Greedy Alpha,” she gasped, but her body arched into his touch, already slick and ready for his claiming.

He lifted her with predatory ease, positioning her to straddle his thighs, skirts pooling around them like water. When he freed himself and guided her soft slickness down onto his length, they both groaned at the perfect fit that time had only improved.

“Mine,” he snarled, hands gripping her hips as she began to move. “My mate, my queen, the mother of my children.”

She rode him with quiet intensity, soft slaps rapid, mindful of their sleeping daughter but desperate for the connection that blazed between them. His mouth claimed hers, swallowing soft cries as pleasure built between them with relentless force.

When release claimed them both, it was with shared breath and mingled moans, their bond singing with satisfaction and love so profound it seemed to reshape reality itself.

Afterward, as they lay entwined with Naya’s head pillowed on his chest, Akoro stroked and caressed everywhere he could reach. Their daughter’s peaceful breathing created a lullaby of absolute contentment.

He couldn’t believe how his life had changed in a year. He used to think conquest was victory, and now he knew conquest was worthless without someone to share it with.

Through their bond, he felt Naya’s drowsy satisfaction, the bone-deep happiness of a woman who had found her true place in the world. They had built an empire not through force but through love, and their greatest achievements still stretched ahead like endless desert horizons.

Naya

Afternoon light had shifted to burnished gold by the time Naya emerged from drowsy satisfaction, still cradled against Akoro’s chest while their daughter slept nearby. The contentment flowing through their bond was rich and warm, saturating every breath with happiness she’d never imagined possible.

Through tall windows, Onn Kkulma bustled with activity—merchants hawking wares, children playing in safe streets, the easy prosperity that marked their successful reign.

A year ago, she’d been a reluctant princess torn between duty and desire.

Now she was a queen who’d found her purpose, her people, her home.

“We’ll need to expand the royal wing for our generation of children,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Already summoned the architects,” Akoro said, his purr rumbling like distant thunder. “Eight children require eight suites, a private dining hall, two combat arenas, and a sand pit the size of a small kingdom.”

She snorted. “Seven more. Unless you’re planning to start snatching babies from passing caravans.”

“Only from you, tmot zia ,” he murmured. “And I’m not above strategic seduction to meet my quota.”

The certainty in his voice sent warmth cascading through her. This man who had once been her captor, her tormentor, had become the anchor that held her world steady. The scar he’d carved into her face was so faint now, but served as daily reminders of how far they’d traveled together.

Rising to check on Nnava, Naya marveled at the tiny miracle they’d created. Her daughter’s features held promise of devastating beauty. But it was the peaceful trust in her sleeping face that made Naya’s chest ache with fierce protectiveness.

“She’ll be formidable,” Naya whispered, adjusting silk blankets around their child. “Strong like her father, stubborn like her mother.”