Chapter 17
17
Anora
T he room smells like him. Sandalwood, musk—a blend that’s warm and intoxicating. I close my eyes, soaking it all in. The heat of the room, the reality sinking in.
“This arrangement is only temporary, Anora,” Amir says, his voice calm and measured. “Until I can provide you with better accommodations.”
His words make me sit up on the bed, my eyes locking onto him. He’s standing over me, every inch the commanding figure he always is, looking just as incredible as ever. Better than I ever imagined. Better than in my dreams. How is that even possible?
“Oh, right. When we go to Wintermoon,” I say quickly, but the second the words leave my mouth, I hesitate. It’s like I’ve overstepped. I press my fingers to my lips, unsure if I’ve pushed too far. “I mean… I am fated to you, right?”
He chuckles softly and sits down beside me, moving with such control and grace that it’s intimidating. His posture, the way he holds himself—it’s impossible to feel anything but small next to him.
He doesn’t answer right away, and my stomach twists. I drop my gaze to my hands, which rest in my lap, and start fidgeting nervously with my fingers. My thoughts race ahead of me. Did I say something wrong? Did I offend him?
But then Amir reaches for my hands, his movements slow and deliberate. He takes one in his and lifts it, pressing his lips to the back of it gently. The warmth of his lips against my skin makes my cheeks flush as butterflies swirl in my stomach.
“Yes, Anora,” he says finally. “You are fated to me. But it’s more than that. There’s a lot between us—more than you realize. I’m a patient man… You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
His words hit me harder than I expect, and I feel the flush deepen in my face.
“Let’s start small,” he continues, his tone softening. “For now, this is your home.”
I raise my brows at him, confused. “You want me to stay here? In this nightclub? Why aren’t we going to Wintermoon?”
He smiles, brushing his fingers lightly over the back of my hand. The touch sends a shockwave through my body, the sensations almost too much to handle.
“So much excitement for Wintermoon,” he teases, his tone soft but playful. His smile widens, and I shrug in response.
“Of course I’m excited. I knew. Deep down, I always knew I belonged there. I’ve been dreaming about you for years, Amir. And you’ve been watching me—for a while now, I take it.” My voice wavers slightly, but I hold his gaze .
“Yes, Anora. I’ve been watching you for months,” he admits with the same calm confidence.
“Why didn’t you say something? Why not let me know you were real?” My curiosity feels sharp, pressing, but my voice stays steady as I study him.
“It’s... complicated, angel,” he says, his tone softening as if choosing his words carefully. “There were other matters I had to take care of first. Not revealing myself was safer for a while. Besides…” Amir hesitates, a hint of vulnerability flashing in his face. “Part of me was nervous.”
“Nervous?” I repeat, almost laughing. “Of me? What’s there to even be nervous about?” Amir answers by pulling my hand to his lips and pressing a slow, gentle kiss to the back of it. Warmth floods my chest at the gesture.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Anora. Longer than you can imagine. And you’ve come to me before. Many times.”
That catches me off guard, and my brow furrows. “Hold on,” I say, leaning forward. “What do you mean I’ve come to you before?”
He exhales, lowering my hand carefully into his lap, his expression calm but earnest.
“The dreams you have at night—it’s not just your imagination. They’re real, Anora,” he says, his words slow but deliberate. “You’re time traveling.”
I freeze, my mind racing. Pulling away slightly, I touch two fingers to my lips and whisper, almost to myself, “That’s... that’s why it all felt so real.” I glance back at him, my voice searching. “But how? Why?”
Amir’s shoulders lift slightly as he takes a breath. “Because you’re not human, Anora. You’re a witch,” he says plainly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“I’m a what?” I blurt out. My gaze drops to my hands like I’m expecting to see the answer there. A strange excitement takes hold of me, and a smile tugs at my lips despite myself. “I’m a witch?”
“I’m a witch?” The word echoes in my mind, bringing with it flashes of my dreams - the power I’d felt there, the magic that had seemed so natural, so right. Suddenly, all those moments of feeling different, of sensing things others couldn’t, make perfect sense. It’s like finding the missing piece to a puzzle I didn’t even know I was trying to solve. Everything shifts, realigning itself around this new truth, and I feel something stir inside me - ancient, familiar, waiting to be awakened. I blurt out. My gaze drops to my hands...
“Yes,” he says, his tone steady. “Your powers were bound a long time ago by your ancestors. There’s a lot to explain, Anora.” His voice softens as he sits back slightly. “But we don’t have to cover it all tonight. Let’s get you settled first, and tomorrow, we’ll get your things.”
My stomach twists as I remember Mrs. Sarah, my neighbor back home. I straighten abruptly. “Wait,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t—I can’t just leave her! She doesn’t have anyone else. I’m supposed to take care of her?—”
“Anora,” Amir says firmly, cutting me off as he stands. His tone is calm but unrelenting, and he looks me right in the eye. “There’s a reason I didn’t bring you here sooner. I was waiting for the right time, for you to come to this place yourself. But now that you’ve crossed the threshold of your own free will, you’re staying. That’s final. I won’t send you back to that unsafe apartment building, surrounded by mold and decay.”
“But Mrs. Sa—” I try again, but Amir raises a hand, and his commanding presence silences me instantly.
“You have my word, Anora. Sarah will be taken care of. She will have the best accommodations,” he assures me, his voice firm but sincere.
I glare up at him, frustration bubbling up, but he closes the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. He’s towering over me now, his presence impossible to ignore.
“You’re not meant to live like that, Anora. You are a queen. I won’t have you sleep in anything less than luxury,” he says, his voice dipping lower with conviction.
I shake my head, almost laughing again at the absurdity of it all. “A queen? Seriously? I don’t know where you’re getting this from, Amir, but I’m no queen.”
He doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans forward and cups my face gently with both hands. His touch is careful, yet his gaze is intense.
“You are a queen, Anora. And your place is by my side.”
Amir steps back slightly, keeping his hands behind his back as he slowly circles me. His eyes never leave me. “You’ve dressed up tonight,” he notes. His voice drops as his golden eyes sweep over my outfit. “You look… stunning. But then, you always do. Pure elegance, in every way.”
I swallow hard, wanting to say something, but the sheer force of his presence stops me. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the sound of his voice, the subtle scent of him, the way he owns the space around him.
“Anora,” he murmurs again, his breath brushing my skin as he steps back in front of me, “You are royalty. And I will accept nothing less than your status.”
I open my eyes in time to see him lift a hand, wiggling his fingers slightly. A faint trail of shimmering gold-gray magic flows from his fingertips, and a clothing rack materializes against the far wall, its wooden frame gleaming in the light. My mouth falls open .
“Something for you to sleep in,” Amir says, gesturing toward the rack.
I step over to it carefully, running my fingers across the soft fabrics of nightgowns and pajama sets. Silks, satins, and warm-looking materials line the rack in every shade I could think of.
“What about Wintermoon, though?” I ask without turning around. My fingers stop moving as I wait for him to answer.
He exhales audibly but holds his ground. “We’ll talk later,” he says, his voice firm but calm. “Right now, get changed. Get into bed. I’ll make sure you eat, and then we’ll go over everything.”
There’s a light knock on the door. My head snaps toward the sound just as the knob twists. Hazel steps inside. She’s changed out of the fancy dress she was wearing earlier and now has on a plain set of gray pajama shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that’s slightly oversized, the sleeves bunched near her wrists. Her long, wavy brown hair is pulled up into a loose ponytail that drapes down her back.
Amir’s face lights up as she enters. He shoots her a wide, proud smile before turning to me. “I’ll leave to get your food. My niece will keep you company,” he says.
Before I can respond, he vanishes. One second he’s there, and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone. The air still tingles where he stood, crackling with remnants of his power. It’s strange how quickly his presence has become both overwhelming and necessary, like oxygen I didn’t know I needed until now. The room feels emptier without him, colder somehow, despite Hazel’s warm presence beside me.
I sit there, staring at the spot where he stood, and Hazel shrugs like it’s nothing. “He does that a lot,” she says casually, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ll get used to it.”
I shake my head, still adjusting to everything. “So you’re a witch too?” I ask, my curiosity finally spilling out.
Hazel smiles at me gently. “Yeah, I am. It’s a long story, Anora. But... let’s just say I’ve had a big role to play in everything that’s been happening.”
Her answer is vague, but before I can press her further, she turns toward the clothing rack. She pulls out a nightgown, something sheer and lacy that looks like lingerie, and holds it out toward me.
“You should wear this,” she says, studying my expression. “My uncle’s been longing for you, yearning for you, for a very long time. Right now, you hold more power than you realize.”
I flinch a little, shifting uncomfortably at the idea. I glance at the nightgown, thinking, Yeah, no. That’s never happening.
“Uh... that’s not really my style,” I mumble, shaking my head at her suggestion.
Hazel puts the nightgown back on the rack but smiles at me like she expected that reaction. I hesitate for a second before blurting out, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I saw you with Amir and... I kind of got jealous.”
Hazel giggles, shaking her head quickly. “Trust me, Anora, you have nothing to worry about. My uncle will only ever look at you like that. He’s waited lifetimes for you. He... well, let’s just say, I envy the kind of love he’s about to give you,” she says, almost wistfully.
I watch her closely as she walks over to the bed and sits down. Her expression shifts—it hardens, just barely, and there’s something heavy in her eyes. I follow her and sit down beside her, waiting. I can tell there’s more she wants to say.
Finally, she speaks. “My uncle was trying to cheer me up earlier,” she explains. “I’ve had a hard time. Been... depressed for a while.”
I don’t interrupt, just nod slightly to show I’m listening.
She continues, her voice steady but strained, like she’s spent years forcing herself not to crack. “Twelve years ago, I was raped. I tried to go to my mother for help, but instead, she blamed me. Said it was my fault... said I brought it on myself.” Her hands fidget in her lap, twisting slightly. “That night, I decided I didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to die. But instead of going through with it, I prayed to Fate.”
I blink, a chill running down my arms.
“She answered,” Hazel says quietly, meeting my eyes for just a second before looking away. “That moment changed everything for me. I realized the world’s broken, off balance. And the only way to fix it? Breaking the curse on the supernaturals.”
Hazel pauses, breathing deeply, and I can tell she’s trying to collect herself. “I’m a Bailey witch,” she finally says. “So is my uncle. My mother, Aya Bailey, cast the curse that bound supernaturals in the first place. It broke everything we were supposed to be.”
My stomach drops. Something about the name Aya Bailey makes my chest ache.
I gasp, realization hitting me. “Aya Bailey...” I murmur, tasting the name on my lips. Memories of my dreams flash through my mind. My dreams weren’t just dreams—they were glimpses through time, pieces of a story I’m only beginning to understand. The magic, the prophecies, the destiny I never knew was mine all rush at me like a rising tide. I’m not just Anora anymore—I’m part of something bigger, something ancient and powerful. The question is: am I ready for what that means? The dragon shifters, the shadowy witch, the ruins of battle littered with ash and bone.
Hazel looks at me, curious but quiet, while my thoughts start spinning.