Chapter 23
23
Anora
A mir leads me down into the basement, his strides confident, like he’s proud to show me whatever it is waiting down here. I keep moving, holding my head high, but my stomach twists with unease. He’s not human—nothing about him is human—and moments like this remind me of it. I’ve never even seen him eat. What does someone like him even consume?
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and I freeze instantly, my body stiff and reluctant. I pull my hand from his grasp, needing the space. He turns to face me, unbothered, his hands clasped behind his back, watching me carefully.
“I—I can’t, Amir,” I stammer, taking a shaky step back. “Whatever you’re going to do, I’ll just wait for you by the bar.”
I start to turn, trying to escape before it gets worse, but his hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back to him with ease. My back brushes against his chest. His grip is firm, not forceful, yet impossible to escape .
“Anora,” he says, his voice quiet but full of intent. “If you truly want me to release them all...” He grits his teeth, swallowing hard, and continues, “then I’ll do it. Your heart means more to me than revenge.”
I stare at him, stunned into silence. The words hit me like a truck. Do I really have that kind of power over him? This ancient, immensely powerful creature would give this up because I asked?
My mind spins as I consider what to say, and finally, I force the question out. “I’m not talking about the men who hurt Hazel. Do what you must with them. But... Mike. Just answer me this—if I tell you to let him go, am I just sending him to the next victim?”
Amir’s expression shifts, his jaw clenching as he considers his answer. I can’t read him—it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking.
“Yes, Anora,” he finally says. His voice is steady, but his words hit me like a punch to the stomach. “I smelled it on him the moment he walked into my club—his anger, his malice, his determination. He didn’t come here aimlessly. He came to hurt you. To punish you for rejecting him.”
My stomach churns violently, and I clasp my free hand over my mouth to stop the urge to gag. I try to pull away, but his grip on my wrist remains solid, holding me in place.
“Let me show you,” he says softly, though there’s a fire in his golden eyes. “Let me show you what I’ll do if anyone dares try to harm you.”
I reach up instinctively, my fingers trembling as I aim for his cheek. He looks so much taller like this, towering over me, so I rise onto my toes, but it’s not enough. I can’t quite reach.
Before I can say anything, Amir lifts me effortlessly, holding me against him by the waist as if I weigh nothing. He levels me with his intense gaze, their raw power leaving me breathless.
I feel a lump form in my throat, my lips trembling, but I manage to press my hand softly against his cheek. Everything about him, his intensity, his devotion, leaves me completely speechless.
“You—you don’t have to prove anything to me, Amir,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “You’ve made your intentions known from the very beginning. I trust you.”
Before I can say another word, his lips crash down onto mine. The kiss is fierce and overwhelming. He holds me up against him, my feet dangling in the air. His mouth moves over mine, his tongue slipping past my lips to tangle with mine. There’s a fire in his kiss—a craving, a longing so deep I can’t even process it.
I feel like I’m floating, like the world disappears, leaving just the two of us locked in this moment. Nothing else matters. Nothing exists except the way his lips devour mine, the way his grip on my waist feels protective yet commanding.
Everything about this kiss, about him, feels unique, intimate, and completely overwhelming in the best way. I lose myself in it, my mind blank.
Slowly, he sets me back on the ground, his lips lingering before pulling away slightly. I blink, trying to gather my thoughts, running a shaky hand through my wild curls. My breathing is shallow, and I feel like my legs might give out at any second.
His hands move to cup my face gently, always so careful, as if I’m delicate. He presses his forehead against mine, his nose brushing softly against me. A low purr rumbles from him, vibrating through me, and I realize it’s his lion .
“Anora,” he whispers, his sweet breath brushing against mine. “You could make a god drop to his knees.”
“What?” I breathe out, too dazed to fully process his words.
“Where will you wait for me, Anora?” he asks softly, planting gentle kisses against my forehead, my cheeks, his hands tender as they cradle my face. There’s need in his voice, but also love. “Don’t run from me, angel. I’ll always find you and bring you back.”
“I’m not running,” I snap, though my voice lacks conviction.
He chuckles, kissing me again, slower this time, but just as passionate. When he pulls back, I have to draw every ounce of courage I have just to respond. “I—I’ll be by the bar,” I finally manage, my voice tiny. “I’ll sit with Andrew while you... do what you must.”
His chuckle deepens, clearly enjoying how flustered I am. “That’s perfectly fine, angel. I won’t be long.”
Before he can say anything else—or kiss me again—I dart up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Leaving takes every ounce of willpower I have because I know if he asked me to stay again, I probably would. Amir’s pull on me is magnetic, dangerous even.
At the top of the stairs, I hear his soft chuckle, and it sets my nerves on edge. I smooth my dress and run a hand through my hair, desperate to compose myself. Amir loves my hair natural and wild, tangled in soft curls he never stops touching, but I’d kill for a straightener right now.
“Chicken.” Andrew’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see him at the bar, smirking at me.
I huff and shrug. “Yeah, and?” I mutter, sliding onto the stool. He grabs a towel from his shoulder and swipes it over the counter .
He laughs, shaking his head. Yeah, I’m a chicken. So what?
“Would you like me to make you something to eat?” Andrew asks, grabbing a menu from under the bar and sliding it in front of me. His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it, like he already knows I’m not used to making decisions for myself anymore.
My eyes shift to the steel double doors that lead to the kitchen, and I shrug. It’s been a week since I came here, and I’ve been treated like royalty the entire time. It’s nice but suffocating. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to do anything on my own. Hell, I’ve lost track of everything about my life before Amir—my job, my routine. I’m sure Mrs. Sarah hasn’t even reported me missing. Why would she?
Everything about this new life feels like a dream—or maybe a fairytale gone dark. A week ago, I was worrying about paying bills and keeping my job. Now I’m supposed to be a queen? The word feels wrong in my mouth, heavy with expectations I’m not sure I can meet. But there’s something else too—a pull deep inside me that recognizes this is where I belong, even if I’m terrified to admit it.
I shake off the thought and climb down from the barstool. “I’d like to make my own food for a change,” I tell him and start walking toward the double doors.
Andrew narrows his eyes at me, but before I can take another step, in a flash of vampire speed, he’s suddenly standing right in front of me. His broad frame blocks the way, and his expression is hard, almost annoyed.
“I think it’s nice,” he says, his voice tight, “you wanting to be self-sufficient and all. But you need to get something straight.”
I freeze, blinking at him, unsure where this is going.
“Amir is your mate,” he continues, crossing his arms. “ And he’s a king—not just any king. He’s been ruling supernaturals for thousands of years. You being fated to him makes you a queen.”
“I’m not—” I start to object, but he cuts me off, holding up a hand to silence me.
“Fight this all you want, Anora, but it doesn’t change the facts. You are a queen. And you need to start holding yourself like one. That means not doing little shit like trying to make your own food. Amir’s cool and all, but he’s still a damn king. You haven’t seen him mad, and trust me, you don’t want to. If you want something, make the command. That’s it.”
I suck in a sharp breath, his words settling heavily on me. I want to argue, to say I’m not made for that kind of life, but the sound of distant screams from the basement breaks the moment.
The screams are muffled but unmistakable. They make his point resonate even more.
I raise my hands to my ears, trying to block out the noise instinctively, but Andrew moves closer, wrapping an arm around me gently and guiding me to the doors.
“Come on,” he says, his tone softening. “I’ll compromise with you. You can help me make something, but you’re not doing it all on your own.”
I nod silently, not trusting my voice.
He pushes the doors open, leading me into the kitchen. The smell of stainless steel and soap hits me immediately. The space is spotless—industrial and practical, sharp lines and sleek surfaces. Even at my old diner job, the kitchen had never been this immaculate. Everything here shines under harsh fluorescent lights: massive stoves, a grill, deep fryers, a griddle, and an enormous commercial fridge and freezer.
The screams are muted here, but I can still hear them faintly in the background, like a haunting reminder of what’s happening below us.
It’s unsettling—standing in this pristine kitchen while somewhere below us, Amir is dealing out his own brand of justice. Part of me wants to run from the violence, but another part understands it now. In this world of supernatural beings and ancient powers, maybe sometimes blood is the only answer. Maybe sometimes love looks like vengeance.
Andrew guides me to one of the steel prep tables and walks to the fridge, pulling out ingredients for a sandwich and a bag of frozen fries. “How about a turkey melt and some fries?” he asks, his voice casual, like we didn’t just walk away from torture noises.
I shrug, unable to muster a real opinion. He starts laying everything out with precision, then washes his hands, glancing at me briefly.
“What’s your deal, Andrew?” I ask. “Why stay here? Why deal with all this chaos and these radical humans when you could just live on Wintermoon and be yourself?”
He smirks, shaking his head as he works. “You don’t know this, but Kade sired me.” He pauses, pulling out a frying pan and heating it on the stove before continuing, “I was human, serving King Henry VIII. Back then, being openly gay was an automatic death sentence. Sodomy meant execution.”
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “I was the first person they threw on the chopping block. I was already bleeding out by the time Kade stepped in. She saved me that night. I was beaten to hell, castrated, and left for dead. Then she turned me.”
I stare at him, stunned into silence.
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “She gave me a second chance. Raised me as a vampire, taught me how to survive. She always said I was ahead of my time.” He flips the sandwich on the griddle as the turkey sizzles.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say softly, unsure what else to offer.
“Don’t be sorry,” he replies sharply, waving me off. “Be sorry for the stupidity of humans. That was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on. People like Kade and Amir gave me a new world to belong to.”
He grabs the fries and lowers them into the hot oil, setting the timer with the ease of someone who’s done this a million times. “You know something about Amir? He’s got his quirks as a king, sure. But prejudice? Bigotry? That’s never been his thing. Doesn’t matter who or what you are—if you’re a supernatural, you’re part of his family.”
I watch him quietly, his words sinking in as he sets the sandwich on a plate and starts plating the fries.
“You know I’m openly gay,” he continues. “Amir’s known since the moment we met. He doesn’t care. He’s never cared. He doesn’t bat an eye at Kade being a lesbian either. He loves us for who we are. Always has.” He looks at me pointedly now. “He’s built his kingdom on love, Anora. He believes women are the vessels of life itself. Happy women make happy nations. That’s how he leads. You don’t get that kind of thinking in the human world.”
I swallow hard, letting his words process. “So why stay here?” I force out. “Why deal with this?”
He smiles faintly, pushing the plate toward me. “This place isn’t just a nightclub. It’s a safe haven. A way station for supernaturals trying to get to Wintermoon. I stay because I owe it to Amir, Kade, and this community they built. They saved me—this is how I give back.”
I place my hands on the prep table, trying to keep myself steady. There’s so much to Amir that I don’t know, layers I haven’t even started to peel back yet.
The question gnaws at me. Can I handle it? Can I handle being the woman he needs me to be?
But maybe that’s not even the right question anymore. Maybe what I should be asking is: Can I handle being the woman I’m meant to be? Because every revelation about Amir, every glimpse into his world, shows me something I never expected—a place where power serves protection, where violence and tenderness coexist, where being different isn’t just accepted but celebrated.
And somewhere deep inside me, past all the fear and doubt, I feel something shifting, awakening. Something that’s always been there, waiting for this moment, this transformation.