Chapter 3
3
Amir
K ade teleports me in front of a ragged building, its walls sagging from years of neglect. Compared to its neighbors, it doesn’t even try to stand out. The streets around us throb with a miasma of danger, drugs, and blood. I narrow my eyes at Kade, fury boiling.
“My woman is not living in these conditions.” My voice is harsh and uncompromising. Kade exhales, frustration etching lines on her face.
“If you snatch her, she’ll hate you. Maybe she’ll name your first child Aya, just like Nia did for Levi.” She chuckles lightly, but it sets my teeth on edge. I release a low groan, the last thing I want is for her to resent me.
The thought of my mate enduring this kind of life churns in my gut, a decision I refuse to accept.
“No, Kade. I won’t tolerate her living like this.” My growl emerges as I take in the building’s exterior. The scuttling of rats and the fluttering of insects against the peeling paint reach my ears.
“I’ll help you get her into something better, nicer.” Kade sounds genuine, but my patience wears thin.
“You have one week, Kade. I’m being reasonable with that. Everything inside me is screaming for twenty-four hours.” I pin her with a hard stare, my resolve unshakable. “You fail, and I handle it myself. She will not remain in filth while I can do something about it.”
“She’s on the third floor,” Kade says softly, placing her hand gently on my shoulder. I can sense her warmth, her happiness for me, and it’s contagious.
“I can handle it from here, daughter. I just need to see her, nothing more.” She withdraws her hand, and I draw her into my embrace. I feel the deep bond between us—she’s my daughter, and my love for her is fierce.
When I longed for a child of my own, I defied fate to bring her into my life. I claimed her, knowing we were meant to be. Damon is my son, undeniably, but a daughter’s love is a treasure that adds light to existence. Kade is patient with me, understanding in ways that Damon could never grasp.
Cupping her face, I lean back a fraction and kiss her forehead lightly. She loathes the games of politics, but she wields them with grace when necessary. A gentle, fatherly nudge is all she needs.
Her eyes shine with love and trust, and I can’t help but smile back at her.
“Daughter, you do know it’s never been my plan to settle down with Anora on the land?” I remind her. She nods, her discomfort visible as she processes the responsibility of inheriting Wintermoon. She’s capable, undeniably so, and my pride swells for all she’s accomplished .
“Thank you, father.” She rests her forehead against mine, but the moment’s intimacy is fleeting. She should return to her mate; her place is in Wintermoon. The Brookstones need my attention from here. And my sisters—wherever they hide—I know they lurk nearby, plotting. I won’t let them harm Hazel for her choices.
“It’s time for you to go, daughter.” I brush my thumb across her cheek, savoring the moment. She smiles, a light in this darkness, and steps away, but then her expression shifts into something more serious, causing a low chuckle to escape my lips.
“I promise, I’ll behave,” I say, but she narrows her eyes at me, suspicion clear.
“Please, don’t snatch her. Give me a chance to find her better living conditions. Court her. She deserves…” I hold my hand up, irritation brimming that my own daughter doubts my intentions.
“I don’t need a lesson in courtship, Kade.” I snap, frustration leaking into my voice. “I only want to see her, to savor her scent for a few hours. I assure you, she’ll receive the utmost care. But I won’t compromise her safety, even if she hates me for it.” Kade sighs heavily, conceding with a nod.
She teleports away in a swirl of black smoke, the air thick with her lingering scent. My heart races; I’ve waited so long for this moment. Nerves flutter in my stomach as I teleport inside, my form materializing in a lobby suffocated by mold and peeling paint.
The conditions press against my chest, intense anger radiating within me. I make my way toward the stairwell, climbing slowly as I trace her scent, a unique blend of tropical fruit—papaya, apples, and berries—growing stronger with each step. Reaching the third floor, the air shifts, thick with the stench of blood, sex, and drugs. I know it’s only a matter of time before these surroundings destroy her spirit.
Why would Fate place my Queen in such a pitiful environment? She deserves a sanctuary worthy of her, a space reflective of what I can give her. Hands clasped behind my back, I stride down the hallway, halting at her door. The scent lures me, intoxicatingly strong, seeping through the cracks. Even the most worthless of humans can smell her.
I lick my lips, not wasting time to ponder what lies beyond the door. I teleport inside instantly, surprise jolting through me as I find myself standing beside her bed. The room is dim, cluttered, and my eyes flit around—spotting the front door, a small table, and what appears to be a kitchenette. I tread softly, discontent flickering through me at the sight of closed windows letting in cold drafts. This place is freezing.
Chests line the walls, a comforting layer of familiarity in an otherwise grim scene. I breathe deep, soaking in the essence of her fabrics. My mouth waters at the thought of exploring those hidden treasures. This space is far too small for my mate; everything crowded into one room feels suffocating.
Her soft moans pull me from my spiraling thoughts. I turn, my heart quickening as I watch her stir on the mattress. I see her shivering, clutching layers of blankets, and my resolve strengthens. No longer will she endure this. I will save her from it all.
I’ve had enough already. My hands drop from behind my back to my sides, fists tightening as the urge to gather her in my arms overwhelms me. I can almost feel the pulse of magic tingling in my fingertips, itching to teleport her to Thirst Trap, where I’d have the means to keep her warm—until I can carve out a safer haven for her .
I creep closer to the bed, my steps soft against the cold floor. Anora lies there, her long, wavy hair cascading over the pillow, each strand spilling like liquid night. The sound of her snores, sweet and delicate, tugs at something deep within me.
All our encounters before have been glimpses of the future, and she’s always been the powerful vampire—a witch in full command of her abilities. But here, in this human form, she seems innocent, cast in a soft light that makes my heart ache. I can even scent the curse woven through her bloodline, a shadow I intend to erase during the claiming process.
She’s so fragile now, so easy to break. The air crackles with a sense of awareness; something is nearby, watching. Anora shifts, a small moan escaping her lips as she turns. My heartbeat quickens, a jolt of electricity coursing through me.
She shivers, her breath forming white clouds in the cold air of the room. My instincts roar, my beasts yearning to break free and protect her; they are right—this isn’t how someone like her should live. I grapple with myself, caught between respect for her slumber and the primal urge to keep her safe.
But Anora—she’s the woman I’ve dreamed of for thousands of years, long before she was even born.
The moment she whimpers again, doubt flees and resolve takes its place. I sit on the edge of the bed, careful to distribute my weight, avoiding any creak of the mattress.
My hand inches toward her, warmth cracking the coolness around me, and I grin as her shivers ease, her body finally unwinding. Her skin, a deep mocha, beckons me like an uncharted territory, and I can’t resist gliding my fingertips against it .
She sighs, each touch igniting something within her, and when my fingers brush her cheek, she gives me a smile, serene and enchanting.
Then she murmurs my name, “Amir…” as she snuggles against the pillow. My breath catches; emotions swell and threaten to spill over, tears welling at the corners of my eyes. She knows me. My mate, already aware of my existence in her dreams. Am I her protector in this unguarded world, keeping her warm and safe?
Dear Fate, let it be so.
I caress her soft, plump lips, heart racing with the desperate longing to kiss her.
“I’m here, my love,” I whisper, and her smile broadens, her body relaxing further. She moans again, a soft sound of approval that dances through me.
“Good,” she murmurs as I draw my hand back, noticing the rhythm of her heart steadying in a deep, restful slumber. My beautiful Anora dreams of me.
Thank you, Fate.
I slide back against the bed, propping my feet up on the edge of the mattress, resting my head against the cool wood of the headboard. I won’t leave her, not until the moment she stirs awake. Staying by her side, I ensure she remains warm.
I’ve awakened not only to my fated mate but also to old enemies lurking in the shadows. My sisters, the Bailey witches, are still out there, and Hazel—my niece and ally—holds the key to tracking them, her blood a conduit through realms.
The Book of the First might be our only hope of destroying dark magic—if it even exists. I’ve tasked Damon with finding it, but doubt gnaws at me. What if the legends are wrong? What if this ancient text holds no power over the darkness that’s consumed Aya?
For centuries, I’ve watched dark magic corrupt everything it touches, twisting souls until nothing remains of who they once were. Even if we find the book, there’s no guarantee it will save my sister.
Yet I cling to this possibility, this fragment of hope. Because without it, what choice do we have? Watch as dark magic continues to spread its poison through our world? I’ve seen too many witches fall to its seduction, too many souls lost to its promises of power. But the price of destroying it—if we even can—remains unknown. Such ancient magic always demands payment in blood.
The second Great War isn’t a distant thunder; it rumbles closer, and the humans have been sharpening their tools for far too long. My sisters are already plotting, their thoughts undoubtedly turned toward my one vulnerability—Anora.
Nothing can destroy me except Anora’s death. Without her, I’d wither, the will to exist slipping away like sand through my fingers.
Anora’s current fragility presents a tempting opportunity for them. So why haven’t they acted? There’s a game afoot, and my sisters have chosen to keep her alive for reasons known only to them.
And I intend to uncover those reasons.
My gaze returns to my sleeping beauty. I can’t help but smile as my beasts quieten, responding to the call of our shared name. I am not just a vampire; I embody many beasts—the warlock, the wolf, the bear, the dragon, the lion, and countless others.
When I asked Fate, my mother, why I am this way, she simply said it was my purpose, promising me that my loneliness would eventually come to an end .
That moment has arrived. I am no longer solitary. I have her. My Anora, my love.
And for her, I would reduce this world to ashes if anyone dares to take her from me, claiming the peace and affection I’ve craved for so long.