Chapter 10
10
Amir
Anora’s Apartment
T he sun will rise in a few hours, and this night is nearing its end. I’ve got what I came for—all nine of the men who dared lay a hand on her niece. They’re caged up, waiting for me to deal with them. But not yet. That comes later.
For now, I’m here, standing in the middle of Anora’s too-small studio apartment, seething at the sight of this place.
This is where she lives? This tiny, suffocating box of a room? It’s all wrong for her. She deserves better, more. She deserves to live like royalty because that’s what she is.
My queen . The one I’ve waited centuries for. And yet, despite every instinct screaming at me to take her from this place, to fix it, I stand with my hands at my sides, resisting.
I look at her lying there, asleep in that narrow bed, her body relaxed as if the world hasn’t thrown everything at her. She’s beautiful. Her hair spills across the pillow in a dark, curly halo, wild and unrestrained. Her skin glows faintly as she sleeps.
She smells like fruit—tropical, sweet, and hers alone. Papaya. Apples. Berries. I know every note of it. It floods this room, just like she floods my thoughts—always there, always pulling me closer. My jaw clenches.
I sit beside her, careful not to stir her, and stare at her peaceful face. Watching her breathe, the delicate rise and fall of her chest—it’s both calming and torturous. She’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen, as if fate molded her perfectly, just for me. But it isn’t enough just to look. I want her. All of her.
And still, doubt lurks like a shadow behind every second. She doesn’t see me— not yet . What will she think when she does? Will she want me?
Or will she reject me the moment I reveal myself to her? That fear is the only thing keeping me from ripping this moment wide open and telling her everything.
My hands curl into fists as I think about it. Rejection would kill me, but what if she doesn’t even have a chance to choose me? What if the truth of what I am—what I’ve done—is all it takes to scare her away?
I glance down at myself instinctively, even though I know what she’ll see: gold eyes that don’t flicker gently, they burn . The sharp points of my ears that give my magical nature away too easily. And worst of all, my fangs—too long, too much. The very sight of me is dangerous.
But my appearance is only part of it. What about the rest? The blood I’ve spilled to survive? The moments of madness I couldn’t control? The monstrous warlock. The shifting creature. The vampire. There’s no piece of me that isn’t tied to some beast, and love doesn’t come easily to monsters.
I shake the thought off and scan the room, needing a distraction before my own doubts crush me. Her paintings catch my eye first. They’re lined up against the wall, some framed, some on raw canvas, all alive with color and movement. She poured so much of herself into them that I feel the pull of her power curling off the strokes of paint.
My chest constricts. The thought of anyone else looking at these pieces, owning them, leaves a sour taste in my mouth. This is her , stripped raw, captured in color. No one else should even glimpse them, let alone claim them. What’s worse—I spot the flyer on the table, bright and insufferable, bold letters telling me everything I need to know: a craft fair, tomorrow night. She’s selling them.
Anger simmers low in my gut. Why? Why is she doing this? Does she need money again ? I’ve given her more than enough to sustain her twice now, but she’s too stubborn—and too damned selfless. It’s in her nature to put others before herself.
She takes what I give her and spends it on anything and anyone but herself. That selflessness drives me to the brink. She doesn’t realize how worthy she is, how much she deserves, how little I would hesitate to give her the entire world if she asked.
But that’s also why she’s meant to be a queen—because she cares about everyone except herself. Because compassion and strength radiate from her in ways that come so naturally, she doesn’t even notice.
My gaze lands on another familiar detail—the stack of items in the kitchen that aren’t her usual picks. Mrs. Sarah. Anora’s made sure the old woman downstairs hasn’t gone hungry, just as she always does when she earns a little extra .
It’s kind, noble even, but it’s another reminder of the bonds she’s built here that aren’t with me. The thought makes my fingers twitch. How do I loosen those ties without making her hate me for it? Mrs. Sarah is nothing compared to what I can give Anora, and yet the old woman holds a part of her life that I want, selfishly, just for myself.
I swallow hard and close my eyes for half a second. My time is running out. The sun will rise soon, and I should leave her to rest, to wake to her normal life, to the blissful ignorance of not knowing the truth about who she is—or who I am—just yet.
But I know I can’t keep running from this. She’s been dreaming of me. Every night, my presence bleeds into her subconscious. Little does she know, they aren’t ordinary dreams—they’re the edges of her true power, bleeding through the cracks of the curse that’s kept her bound.
Fate help me, but I’ve avoided breaking that curse, too. Dragging her back into her full power as a witch isn’t something I’ve done lightly. I should want that for her—and I do—but I hate how much I like her fragility.
I like that she needs protection right now, that she’s still within reach of me in a way the future, powerful Anora might not be. Aya sees through me—I’m not na?ve enough to think otherwise. She’s already called me out on it, back at the House of Zorah. She was right. I hate how much she was .
This decision crushes me more each day. Every moment I delay breaking her curse is another moment I’m keeping her from her true self. But the thought of losing her once she knows everything—once she has her full power and can see exactly what I am—it paralyzes me. I’ve faced countless enemies, survived centuries of warfare, but nothing terrifies me more than the possibility of her rejection .
The pack—the wolf shifter pack I built from the very beginning—remains loyal, but my position with them has shifted. I betrayed their trust the moment I risked everything to save Aya from the darkness consuming her, and I can’t get that moment back.
But I’d do it again. My sister was worth it, even if the Aya I knew is gone, cloaked and strangled by centuries of dark magic. I don’t have much time left to save her, but not trying isn’t an option. It’ll never be.
I turn back to Anora. She’s still asleep, breathing evenly, calm in a way that pulls me to her all over again. I ease myself onto the bed next to her, careful not to wake her, pressing my back against the headboard. I should leave—but I don’t. Not just yet.
Then she says it.
“Amir,” her voice whispers, soft and sweet in her sleep. My name tumbles from her lips, a sigh wrapped in trust.
Something inside me cracks and flutters all at once. My chest pulls, my heartbeat stumbles, and I lose all sense of control when her warmth calls for me like that. How could I ever leave her? Without thinking, I reach out, brushing my fingers along the curve of her cheek. The warmth of her skin sears into me. My touch folds into her dream like it belongs there, like I belong beside her.
And in that moment, there’s no holding back. I can’t stop longing for her, not when she’s this close. Not after spending a lifetime without her.
I find myself drawn into her dreams, the room shifting from her small apartment to a lush, ethereal forest, the air thick with a scent that is uniquely Anora. I’m lying atop her, both of us naked, her body warm and inviting beneath mine. She pulls me into a passionate kiss, her lips soft and eager against mine. I don’t reject her; I can’t. The kiss deepens, our tongues tangling, the passion and love between us igniting a fire within me.
My hands explore her body, tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, before finding her breasts. I’ve waited so long to touch her like this, to pleasure her. I take my time, cupping them, feeling their softness. I brush my thumbs over her nipples, teasing them until they harden under my touch. Anora arches her back, a soft moan escaping her lips, her body pressing against mine.
I move my mouth from hers, trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, until I capture one nipple in my mouth. I suck and play with it, my tongue circling, my teeth gently grazing. I give the other nipple equal attention, my hands never stopping their exploration of her body. Anora’s reactions spur me on, her moans and writhing body driving me wild.
I move lower, my head settling between her legs. The scent of her pussy is sweet and intoxicating. I take a moment to appreciate her, my eyes taking in the sight of her glistening folds. I don’t hesitate. I swipe my tongue along her pussy, her taste exploding in my mouth. I eat at her, my tongue licking, my lips sucking her clit. I take my time, exploring every inch of her, my tongue delving into her entrance, my lips wrapping around her clit, sucking gently.
Anora bucks her hips, trying to escape the pleasure, but I keep her pinned down, my hands on her thighs, spreading her wider. I stuff my tongue inside her, her walls clenching around me. I start to fuck her with my tongue, in and out, my nose pressing against her clit with each thrust. I can feel my dick throbbing, precum leaking from the tip. I reach down, stroking myself in time with my tongue fucking her.
I can feel her climax building, her pussy walls starting to squeeze my tongue tighter, her clit pulsing against my nose. I push more, lick harder, faster, all while stroking my dick with growing urgency. I suck her clit into my mouth, my tongue flicking against it rapidly. Anora comes on my tongue, her pleasure washing over her in waves, her pussy contracting around me. It’s the most beautiful moment I’ve ever experienced.
Her release coats my tongue, and I keep thrusting in and out of her, savoring every drop of her sweet pleasure. I can feel my own climax building, coiling tighter within me. With one final stroke of my hand, I come, spilling onto the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me, leaving me trembling.
I can’t help but wish I were spilling inside her, even though being a vampire means I can never give her a child. Still, the thought of being that connected to her, filling her, would make me feel complete.
I kiss her pussy softly, my tongue licking up the last of her come before I reluctantly pull away. I open my eyes, the ache of it only being a dream settling in my chest. I move my hand from her cheek and adjust my hard dick in my pants, feeling the stickiness, realizing that I climaxed in reality as well. I can smell Anora’s arousal filling the room, her own orgasm from the dream scenting the air.
The intensity of what just happened shakes me to my core. This wasn’t just lust or desire—this was something deeper, more profound. The connection between us, even in dreams, feels ancient and unbreakable.
But it also makes the reality of my hesitation more painful. How much longer can I deny us both what we clearly need? The beast in me roars with frustration, demanding I claim her now, make her mine in every way possible. Yet still I hold back, trapped between desire and fear .
Anora stirs next to me, her body shifting under the sheets as she lets out a soft yawn. The sudden movement snaps me out of the haze of what just happened. My focus shifts to the window, the faint glow of dawn slowly stretching over the horizon. The sun is rising. I curse under my breath. I’ve been here too long.
I stand from the bed as quietly as I can, though my body protests every step away from her. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay, to touch her one last time, to lose myself in her warmth again. But I can’t let her see me. Not yet. Closing my eyes, I cloak my presence and step out of her plane of perception. She won’t know I was here.
I watch as her eyes flutter open, her lashes brushing against her flushed cheeks. She stretches lazily, her hands sliding down her body before pausing between her legs. A soft moan escapes her lips, low and sweet, leaving me rooted in place as an ache runs through me.
The glow of her skin, the way her hair spills wild across the pillow—it all strikes me at once. She’s breathtaking. She’s lost in the remnants of the dream, a smile pulling at her lips as her fingers press lightly against her thighs.
“Damn, that dream felt so real,” she says, her voice husky with sleep. She threads her fingers through her tangled hair, then rubs her face, her expression dazed, cheeks still flushed. I swallow hard. If I could hold her right now, I would. I’d kiss her, tell her she doesn’t have to dream anymore—that I’m here, real, and hers. But I remain frozen in the corner of the room, invisible to her, just watching.
Her hand drifts absentmindedly to her chest, her fingers tracing the curve of her breast. She bites her bottom lip, clearly still caught in the echoes of what we just shared. That simple motion ignites something in me, but I hold myself back. My body feels like it’s caught between fire and restraint, but I don’t move. I can’t.
Her phone alarm buzzes, breaking the moment. She jolts slightly, snapping out of her thoughts. Her head turns quickly in my direction, her brown eyes scanning the room for something—or someone. My chest constricts. Does she sense me? For a moment, I wonder if the dream left some small imprint, if she somehow knows.
But then her shoulders drop. Her expression falls, her lips pulling into a soft pout, as if she’d been holding onto a shred of hope that I might actually be here. Her gaze shifts downward, and she sighs, her fingers brushing against the blanket.
“Amir, I wish you were here. I wish you were real,” she murmurs.
Her words hit me hard. My heart stumbles, and I press a hand to my chest, as if it might stop the ache building there. Hearing her say my name, hearing her wish for me, twists something deep inside me.
It makes me love her even more, if that’s possible. She doesn’t know how much I feel for her, how much I’ve waited for this moment. I can’t wait to stand in front of her—not just in dreams, but in the waking world, where nothing can hold us apart.
But not now. Not yet. I force myself to leave, reluctance weighing on me as I teleport away. The familiarity of the basement at Thirst Trap greets me, cold and dark, nothing like the warmth of Anora’s room. The moment I appear, the sound of screams echoes through the room. My nine captives snap to attention, their heads jerking toward me as I emerge from the shadows.
The cages rattle as some of them thrash in panic, their voices rising in desperation. The fear drips from each of them like sweat, and it fuels something dark and cold in me. My gaze shifts to the empty cage in the corner—the tenth and final one. Soon, it will hold Mike.
The bastard who thinks he can threaten Anora, who’s been circling her like a predator. He doesn’t realize he’s already mine. I’ll find him soon enough. And when I do, I won’t just stop him—I’ll destroy him. No one comes for my woman and walks away alive.
A low chuckle escapes me. Their pleas, their cries—it’s pathetic. I clasp my hands behind my back and turn away from them, ignoring the way they scramble at the bars of their cages. I walk toward the stairs, my steps measured and calm, my mind already ahead of me.
Today, I’m going to see her again. Not just in her dreams. Not just as a shadow in her room. Today, I’ll meet her in the waking world, at the craft fair she’s been preparing for so painstakingly. She has no idea what’s coming. No idea that her fate is tied to mine. My patience is running thin, but this is the part I’ve waited centuries for.
I climb the stairs, leaving the echoes of screams behind me, and prepare myself for what’s next. All of this—the captives in the basement, the hunt for Mike, the plans I’ve been orchestrating—it all leads to her. To Anora. And nothing can stop me now.
The beasts inside me stir restlessly, ready for what’s to come. My lion prowls beneath my skin while my dragon flexes its wings, both prepared for the hunt, for the claiming. Today marks the beginning of everything—the end of my waiting, the start of our destiny. Whether she accepts me or runs from me, there’s no turning back now. The time for shadows and dreams is over. Today, Anora meets the monster who loves her.