Chapter 21
21
Anora
A Week Later—Thirst Trap
I sit cross-legged on the bed, my eyes narrowing in focus as I study the chessboard. Every move I make is deliberate, calculating. Amir watches me from across the table, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, clearly thinking he’s already won.
His confidence makes me even sharper. I move my knight across the board, positioning it perfectly for my next attack, but I keep my face neutral, masking my intentions.
He furrows his brow, glancing at the board. His fingers hover over a rook, then change direction and move a pawn instead. He’s overconfident and distracted, and I take full advantage. A few more moves later, I slide my queen diagonally across the board and lean back with a smirk.
“Checkmate,” I say, my voice steady.
He blinks, rechecking the board, caught completely off guard. Then, he leans forward, chuckling as his golden eyes meet mine. “Clever girl.”
I grin, then swipe my hand across the board, sending the pieces scattering. Before he can react, I’m in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. His lips meet mine, soft and warm, his usual reserved self showing through.
Every movement is careful, his hand lightly cupping my face, his nose brushing against mine. It drives me crazy, the way he’s always so gentle, so restrained. It’s infuriating and yet addictive, like a guilty pleasure I can’t resist.
I break the kiss slightly, pressing my forehead against his as I try to steady my breathing, but I feel the frustration bubbling inside me. It’s been a week in this place, in this high-rise apartment above his nightclub, and I’m restless. No mention of Wintermoon.
No explanation for why we’re still here. No way for me to escape the confines of this floor except during his pre-approved after-hours shopping sessions. It’s suffocating.
Sure, having a whole department store to myself is fun, but it’s not enough. I feel caged. And when we’re together like this, it’s always the same—him careful not to take things too far, always holding back. Meanwhile, I’m practically losing my mind, desperate for more than he’s willing to give me.
I deepen the kiss, pulling myself fully against him, grinding into his lap. He chuckles quietly, clearly amused by my eagerness, his hand moving to my waist as he kisses me back with the same maddening tenderness.
“I can do this all day, angel,” he murmurs into my lips, his words smooth, teasing.
I whimper, frustrated and needy, as his hand moves to brush my hair back. His fingers graze the skin of my neck, and I shiver at the light, teasing touch. He leans down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin as he peppers it with playful bites. My head tilts back instinctively, baring my neck to him, silently begging him to give me what I want.
But, as always, he doesn’t. He teases me, inhaling my scent, lingering as if he’s savoring the moment. My frustration boils over. “I want to go to Wintermoon,” I tell him, my voice heavy with longing and irritation.
He growls against my neck, a playful rumble that sends a giggle bubbling out of me despite myself. Then, in one swift move, he flips me onto my back. I gasp as my body hits the mattress, the movement happening so fast I barely register it. His golden eyes lock onto mine, his face hovering just above mine as I gently cup his cheeks.
“You are so beautiful, Amir,” I whisper, staring into his angelic face. Everything about him—his eyes, his lips, the faint taste of mint on his breath—draws me in like a magnet. I know he’s trying to distract me, and honestly, it’s working.
“Amir, please,” I manage to start, determined to bring the conversation back to Wintermoon, but he cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine. This time, it’s different. Gone is the restraint or gentleness. His lips move against mine greedily, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I part my lips willingly, and he deepens the kiss, devouring me, taking control.
I melt into the mattress, moaning softly as his warm body presses against mine. My legs spread wider, inviting him closer as his hands skim over my curves. His touch is still deliberate, careful, but there’s an edge to it now, a hunger I’ve been waiting to see. My fingers tangle in his hair as I arch into him, desperate to press every inch of myself against him .
He kisses me like he’s trying to consume me, as though he can’t get enough. My breathing is ragged, my head swimming in the heat of him. His body moves against mine, his weight pressing me down in a way that makes my heart race. His hand brushes against my hip, trailing upward, exploring but never overstepping. It’s maddening. It’s intoxicating.
I moan again, my voice muffled against his lips, and he pulls back slightly, just enough to murmur against my mouth, “You’re incredible.”
My frustration spikes again at the sound of his even tone, his composure, his control, but his passion keeps pulling me under.
He kisses me again, deeper and harder, and then he does something he hasn’t done all week—he grinds into me. The sensation pulls a gasp from my lips, and I moan as the pressure sends a spark through my body. Amir doesn’t stop, his lips devouring mine with an intensity that leaves me dizzy. I can feel it now—he’s barely holding himself back, wanting more, needing more of me, just like I want him. But still, even as he starts to lose control, there’s a part of him that’s careful.
His hands move, sliding down my body, exploring me in ways he hasn’t dared before. When his fingers brush over my breasts and cup them through the fabric of my dress, my breath hitches. He pinches my nipples lightly through my bra, and I whimper into his mouth, arching into his touch. He grinds into me again, harder this time, sending my pulse racing. My thighs tighten around him, desperate for more, desperate for him to finally take me.
Is this it? Is he finally going to claim me? Make me his forever? The thought sends fire rushing through my veins, but just as I cling to him, hoping for more, something unexpected happens .
His tongue elongates, shifting into something foreign, something... dragon. I gasp as it slides against my lips—long, thick, and impossibly hot. The wet heat of it leaves a trail that feels somehow sweet, like mint, as it brushes along my skin. My body shudders under the strange new sensation, and my heart pounds in my chest.
It’s shocking but thrilling - this glimpse of his true nature, this taste of what he really is. My heart races not with fear but with excitement. This is part of him, part of what makes him extraordinary, and I want all of it. Every beast, every power, every piece of him he tries to hide.
But just as quickly as it happens, his tongue snaps back into his mouth, and he sits up abruptly, pulling away from me. He looks shaken, sitting there, his face full of embarrassment.
“No, wait, it’s okay,” I say quickly, sitting up, but he’s already leaning back, taking slow, steady breaths, his golden eyes darting anywhere but mine.
“I... I lost control. I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost ashamed.
I glare at him, frustrated. He’s holding back again. Why am I such an animal? I want to tear his shirt off, slam him back against the mattress, and demand everything he’s been withholding. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve screaming for him.
“My beasts,” he finally says, his voice heavy with emotion. “They yearn for you, Anora.”
I smile softly and scoot closer to him, reaching for his face, cupping his cheek in my hand. “I want to meet them, Amir. All of them.”
His gaze lifts, and his lips curl up into a hint of that breathtaking smile. “You don’t think I’m a freak? Carrying these creatures inside of me? ”
I shake my head. “You’re not a freak. You’re remarkable.”
He pulls me into his lap, cradling me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. I roll my eyes at how careful he’s being, but he just laughs, the sound soft and full of affection. I already know—this is the end of our make out session. Again. Ugh. He’s so maddening, but his restraint is also part of what draws me to him.
“You are perfection, Anora,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Everything I’ve hoped for and more.”
“Wintermoon!” I blurt, annoyed and needing to shift the conversation. He chuckles, but I can see the hesitation in his eyes again.
“My persistent queen,” he says, and I wince at the word queen. I’m no queen. I’m just a frustrated girl losing her mind over a ridiculously sexy supernatural king who won’t give in.
“Amir, please,” I start, but his face softens, and the shift in his expression makes me pause.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says slowly. His voice is quieter now, almost reluctant.
I sit up straighter in his arms, nerves starting to creep in. “What is it?”
“I’m not the king of Wintermoon anymore,” he admits, not meeting my gaze. I see the guilt in his expression, the way his brow furrows deeply. “I can’t be, not after what I’ve done.”
His words hang between us. I cup his face, forcing him to meet my eyes, and give him a small smile.
“Amir, I’m not judging you. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
His secrets feel like a physical thing. I can see the shadows in his eyes, the centuries of guilt and regret. But I also see the man beneath it all—the one who treats Hazel with such tenderness, who touches me like I’m precious, who fights so hard to protect everyone around him. Whatever he’s done, whatever burden he carries, I want to help him bear it.
His jaw clenches for a moment, and then he sighs. “It’ll change how you feel about me, Anora. I know it.”
I shake my head, opening my mouth to argue, but before I can say anything, there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” Amir says, his voice smooth and calm again, but I can still feel the unease radiating off him.
The door opens, and Hazel steps inside. With a playful grin, she climbs onto the bed and kisses my cheek warmly, as if she’s part of the family now—which, honestly, she is. I’ve grown close to her over the past week. She needs me in her corner, and I know it.
“What are we doing today, Uncle?” she asks, looking between us.
Before I can push the Wintermoon topic again, Amir distracts me like he always does. He lifts a hand, wiggling his fingers until golden magic flickers through the air, spilling into the television screen. A remote materializes in my palm, and Hazel giggles as she claps her hands together.
“Movie night?” Amir suggests with that sly smile of his.
I sigh, annoyed. They’re both so obvious. Distracting me is their mission, and it’s working. Then Hazel joins in, wiggling her fingers too, and blue magic swirls from her palms, making a massive bowl of popcorn, candy, and drinks appear on the bed.
I groan internally, but as much as I want to argue, I can’t turn down this little bubble of peace we’ve created. I sigh, holding up the remote and clicking the power button .
The television flickers to life, but instead of a movie, the screen shows breaking news. And there she is.
Aya Bailey.
Hazel gasps, and Amir stiffens, glaring at the screen. Aya’s face is calm and humanlike, her supernatural features masked by contacts or magic, but her words hit hard.
“Supernaturals are the problem,” she says, looking directly into the camera with chilling confidence. “They’re consuming human resources, overpopulating Wintermoon. How long before they spill into human lands, taking our homes? We must act now—together—to stop them. Brookstone and Blackburn Enterprises will lead the way, but we can’t fight this alone.”
Before she can say another word, Hazel bursts out in anger, her magic surging like lightning. The television shatters in an explosion of sparks.
“Hazel!” I shout, but before I can move, Amir grabs my arm and pulls me tightly against him.
“She’s starting another war,” Hazel snaps, her breathing heavy, her eyes blazing with fury. “The second Great War—she’s rallying the humans right now. ”
Amir doesn’t respond. His focus is fixed somewhere distant, his golden eyes burning with quiet rage.
And just like that, movie night is over.
The shattered TV sparks and smokes, but that’s nothing compared to the unease lingering between us.
Aya’s words echo in my head, and suddenly everything shifts into focus—why we’re still here, why Amir’s been hesitating about Wintermoon. This isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about preventing another massacre, another war. And this time, I won’t just be watching through visions. I’ll be right in the middle of it all.