Chapter 16
16
Amir
I keep my grip tight on Mike as he struggles, clawing at my hand. His face twists in anger and panic, but my focus stays on Anora as she rushes toward me. Wait? For what? This man has assaulted her more than once. He doesn’t deserve to live.
Humans like him are poison. They infect everything they touch. My tolerance for watching men like him harm my women— my women —is gone. I’ve had enough. These disgusting displays of power, their lack of control, it’s exhausting.
This world, with its capitalism, patriarchy, greed, fascism—it’s all suffocating, and I’m done. They can burn it down for all I care. I’ll take Anora and Hazel far away, leave them to claw at the ashes of their own destruction.
The dragon inside me roars for blood, for justice served in flames and fury. But there’s something else too - a deeper instinct that whispers caution. Anora’s presence changes everything. Her gentle heart, her mercy - it awakens something ancient in me, a reminder of who I was before centuries of violence hardened my soul. The clash between these forces - protection and destruction, mercy and vengeance - tears at me like claws against scales.
“Amir, please stop,” Anora says, her voice shaky as she gets closer. “You’re going to?—”
“Kill him?” I interrupt, my voice calm and casual. I give her a smile, like we’re having a normal conversation. “Yes, absolutely, I’m going to kill him, Anora. He’s assaulted you more than once, and I’m done tolerating it.”
“Oh, shit!” Hazel’s voice rings out, snapping Anora’s attention toward her. Anora spins around as Hazel begins casting a spell, her hands moving in quick, practiced motions. The exit doors shimmer faintly, Hazel’s magic sealing us off from prying human eyes and masking the scene entirely.
I narrow my gaze at Anora. There it is again—jealousy. I can smell it on her. My lips curl into a snarl despite myself. Jealous? Of what, exactly?
She has no idea. I’ve waited for her. Her. Since the beginning of time itself, since long before this pathetic world was what it is now. My loyalty to her is unmatched. And still, she doubts me? Jealousy. The thought burns through my chest, boiling over into a low, instinctive growl.
I turn my attention back to Mike, a slow-burning smile spreading across my face. His death would certainly make me feel better. It would get rid of one more toxic thing in this miserable, rotting world.
And for now, that’s all I want.
Hazel looks over at Anora and smiles. Has future Anora come to her too? Anora meets Hazel’s gaze for a second, then her eyes drift to Hazel’s dress.
“You’re here. Finally. ”
Hazel throws her arms around Anora, catching her off guard. Anora stiffens for a second but doesn’t pull away. Good. They’re distracted for now, leaving me to handle him. But then, Mike’s whining interrupts the moment.
“There’s a reason I allowed you into Thirst Trap , Mike, isn’t there?” I say, my voice steady, sharp.
I take one taloned finger and drag it slowly along his cheek. I don’t care when it pierces his skin.
“Ah, fuck!” he yelps, jerking back, but I just smile. Blood beads where my claw sliced through. I press my talon to my mouth, licking off the trace of him. His panic is intoxicating—a metallic burst of fear lingering on my tongue.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Anora tensing up. Her disgust is obvious; I can smell it. That sharp mix of unease and revulsion lingers between us, but I don’t stop.
“You taste delicious, Mike,” I whisper, savoring the delight in seeing him squirm.
Anora starts toward me, her steps quick, but Hazel grabs her arm, holding her back.
“No, Anora. Stay back. Whatever’s happening here, my uncle has a reason for it. He wouldn’t just attack without provocation.”
Anora freezes, throwing a sharp look to Hazel.
“Uncle? He’s your uncle?”
Hazel giggles like it’s nothing, letting her go. That one word seems to hit Anora, and relief flashes across her face. What, did she think I was something else to her? I shake my head, irritated, and turn my attention back to Mike, crouched low in front of me.
“I had plans for you,” I say softly, my claw grazing his jawline. “A slow, agonizing death. Letting every minute last. But you came too quickly—how inconvenient. Still, I understand your obsession with Anora. She’s remarkable. She’s also mine. ”
I lean in closer, close enough to see the sweat forming on his brow. “I haven’t decided where to stash you yet, so I suppose I’ll have to make this quick.”
“No! Amir, don’t!” Anora’s voice pleads, desperate.
She rushes at me, but Hazel snatches at her arm again. Anora swats her away like it’s nothing, not even glancing back.
“Don’t kill him,” she begs, inching closer to me.
I glare at her, my mouth twitching in annoyance.
“Anora,” I snap, “I won’t tolerate this from you. Not after all I’ve done to keep you alive. Don’t test me. I burned it down for my niece. I’ll burn it all again for you if I need to.”
Mike is trembling now, his eyes jumping between us. That’s when I finally see it—the regret. It washes over his face like an epiphany. He finally understands what he’s done. He finally regrets chasing after her.
I smirk. “It’s okay, Mike. You’re going to die either way. No need for regret now.”
Anora’s voice rises sharply. “Amir! Stop!”
Hazel steps in. “Uncle… just find a place to put him for now. You’re scaring her.”
I scoff at her words, even as I realize she’s right. Anora’s fear is palpable, impossible to ignore. It clings to her—raw and aching. She’s terrified I’m going to kill him right here and now. I will, of course, but not yet.
“Fine,” I growl, snapping my fingers. Mike’s body vanishes in an instant. Anora stumbles, her eyes wide as she looks around the room like he’ll magically appear somewhere else.
“What did you do to him?” she demands, her voice sharp with confusion .
I chuckle, pressing my talon to my lips as if savoring some dark joke. “He’s somewhere safe. Somewhere I can find him again when I want. He’s alive… for now, anyway. That’ll depend on my mood.”
I let the talon meld back into a human hand and lower it to my side. Then I bow my head slightly, an acknowledgment of who she is. Who she will always be.
“I should lecture you for coming to me at this hour. I thought you’d wait until sunrise, but you didn’t. And yet, Anora…” I pause, locking my eyes on hers. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What did you do with Mike? Let him go.” Her voice is sharp, unforgiving. I smile, not because I find her amusing, but because she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. A simple demand like that won’t get her what she wants.
Her persistence irritates me. Why fight for someone like Mike? He doesn’t deserve her pity. He doesn’t deserve anything. Men like him should be handled swiftly, eradicated like pests. I sigh heavily, more for myself than for her, and force patience where none exists. She doesn’t understand her position yet.
I fold my arms and step into her space, maintaining a steady, dominant gaze. Her gasp is small but telling. Her eyes widen, and I can see her readjusting her approach. Good. She’s starting to understand.
“Anora, he’s alive—for now. But releasing him? That’s not an option. Don’t ask me for that again.”
Her mouth closes abruptly, and her gaze drops for a moment. Silence settles between us, thick and unyielding.
“Let’s go upstairs and talk,” I say, softening my tone just enough for controlled persuasion. I extend my hand to her but glance at Hazel before she has a chance to take it. “ Niece, raincheck on our dance. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Hazel shrugs, carefree, before turning her attention to Anora. “No big deal. I think it’s great that Anora is finally around.”
Hazel’s casual approval makes Anora’s shoulders ease slightly, and I catch the faintest trace of embarrassment in her scent. She gives Hazel a small, shy smile before sliding her hand into mine.
I pull her closer, my arm secured firmly around her waist. Her presence steadies me, that comforting scent—warm and familiar—instantly grounding. I guide her through the club, Hazel stepping aside to let us pass.
We ascend the stairs to the second-floor apartment. Outside, the winter night hangs heavy, with snow falling steadily, illuminated by distant streetlights. But inside, it’s warm and inviting, untouched by the cold beyond the large windows that line the living room.
Stepping through the door, Anora slows, her eyes moving carefully over the room like she’s stepping into another world.
Her wonder brings a new energy, transforming these cold, practical rooms into something warmer, more alive. Her scent mingles with the air, creating something entirely different—something that feels like home in a way this place never has before. It’s as if she’s breathing life into every corner, every shadow, just by existing here.
She marvels, taking in what I see as a simple apartment. It’s open but practical—hardwood floors, large floor-to-ceiling windows facing downtown Detroit, a modern couch with a neutral cream tone, and a pair of matching chairs in front of a glass coffee table.
To the right sits the kitchen—sleek, minimalist, with white countertops and stainless-steel appliances that catch the light.
A tall, built-in bookshelf lines a corner of the living room, filled with books of varying sizes and worn spines. It’s a modest library, but it’s enough.
I frown slightly at her reaction. There’s nothing extraordinary about this place, yet she stares like it’s a palace. She doesn’t say it, but I can see it in the way her eyes move across the space—the appreciation, the wonder.
The apartment feels cold, darker than usual, with the gray light pressing against the glass. But it’s still leagues above where she’s been staying. That much is clear. And now that she’s here, she won’t be going back to that apartment of hers.
No, she’s crossed the line and stepped directly into my world. She chose to come here. She chose me, even if she doesn’t fully realize what that means yet.
“Wow,” she murmurs, her voice soft as her eyes sweep across the apartment.
I stay a step behind her, watching as she explores. She moves through the main living area slowly, her fingertips brushing over the marble countertops in the kitchen. She lingers there for a moment, taking it in—the warmth, the comfort that surrounds her.
I let her bask in it, though I’m already planning better accommodations for her soon. She deserves more than this temporary arrangement. I’ll need to call Kade and Damon about preparing something permanent, but first, they’ll need to figure out why Mike is sitting in the Wintermoon sheriff’s station. I sent him there for safekeeping—for now. They’ll hold him. Kade always trust my reasons, even when I don’t give them .
“Come, Anora,” I say quietly, extending my hand to her, “let me show you our bedroom.”
She smiles, uncomplicated trust in her expression, and slips her hand into mine. I guide her down the short hallway, her eyes curiously darting into Hazel’s open room as we pass. Her eagerness stirs something in my chest that I can’t entirely name.
A flick of my fingers has the bedroom door swinging open. I step in first, pulling her gently inside with me.
The room is spacious, practical, and welcoming. A deep blue accent wall frames the large bed, its soft gray blankets and neatly arranged pillows perfectly in place.
Two tall cream-colored chairs sit near the windows, framed by long curtains that fail to block the glitter of snowflakes falling outside. The warmth in the room creates a quiet, inviting atmosphere.
Anora steps further in, her movements slow as her eyes scan the room. She moves to the bed and sits down, the mattress sinking slightly under her weight. Her fingers graze the blanket, testing its softness, and then she leans back. Her dark brown hair fans out across the bed, wild against the smooth fabric.
She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, and I notice the way her body seems to relax completely. A soft smile crosses her face, contentment settling over her.
“This is so much better than my stiff-as-a-board bed back at my apartment,” she murmurs, her voice almost wistful as she stares up at the ceiling.
I clasp my hands behind my back and step closer, quietly watching her. Seeing her like this—so comfortable, so at ease in my space—it strikes me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I can hardly believe she’s finally here. The ach e
But then her comment sinks in, and my jaw shifts slightly. Her past living conditions have always irritated me, but hearing her say this ignites an even deeper anger. I want to destroy that apartment—not just the bed, but the entire building, every last piece of it. It’s unworthy of her—an insult to who she is.
Still, I hold those thoughts for later. Right now, she’s here, in my room, with me. That’s the part I need to focus on. For now.
My beast stirs restlessly, caught between the urge to claim and the need to protect. She looks so right here, so perfect against my sheets, in my space. But there’s vulnerability in her trust, in the way she’s given herself over to this moment.
It awakens something fierce in me - not just possession, but a desperate need to be worthy of that trust. To be not just the monster I’ve become, but the guardian she deserves.