Chapter 25
25
Amir
H azel stands frozen over the slaughter, her face blank—no sadness, no anger. Just nothing. Kade wipes the blood from her face and teleports to Hazel’s side, pulling her close.
I see it then—the moment she finally lets go. She cracks, shattering in Kade’s arms. It’s hard to watch, her pain clawing at something deep in me. But she needs this. She needs to let it out, and Kade is strong enough to hold it all.
I wave my hand, clearing the basement of the mess—the bodies, the blood—all of it disappears, including the stains on my own clothes. The room looks untouched now, clean again, but Hazel knows what was here. What she had to do.
She pulls back from Kade, her tear-streaked face scanning the spotless floor. Her chest heaves as she tries to regain control, but her voice rings out, loud and sharp.
“You should’ve made them suffer longer!” she yells at me. Her fists clench, her entire body trembling.
I lace my fingers behind my back and bow my head, taking her anger without a word. None of it is aimed at me—not really. I’ve seen misplaced rage before. I know its shape, its heat. This blame won’t stick to me because it’s not about me. But if she knew what madness I hold inside... If she knew the real reasons I can’t go back to Wintermoon...
She catches herself, breathing deeply, her hand flying to her mouth as guilt takes over. I groan quietly, hating the sight of her falling apart. Tears mess with my head in ways I can’t stand. I’d do anything to stop them. Anything.
Kade notices the twitch in my ears and smirks. She pulls Hazel back into her arms, cradling her like she belongs there. “I’ve got it, Father,” she says, throwing me a wink.
That’s my cue. I teleport up to the main floor, scowling at the empty bar as I reappear. This is where Anora said she’d be. Frustration bubbles inside me as I glance around. I breathe in slowly, trying to calm myself. She doesn’t need to see me unravel like this—doesn’t need to see what I am when I’m unbalanced.
My ears twitch, catching the sound of her voice. My nose picks up her scent, faint but distinct, trailing from the kitchen. Relief washes over me, followed by guilt. What’s she doing in there? Eating? Hungry? Dammit. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I’ve neglected her. Again. At least Andrew’s around to pick up the slack where I’m failing her.
I teleport straight into the kitchen, startling Anora and Andrew. They both jump, their heads whipping toward me. Anora has a half-eaten turkey sandwich in her hand, her cheeks puffed slightly as she chews. On the tray beside her are a bowl of mixed fruit and a pile of greasy fries. She looks up at me, wide-eyed, then swallows without a word.
Andrew meets my gaze, and I can tell he already knows what I’m thinking. He shoves the bowl of fruit directly in front of her. “Don’t forget to eat this. You promised, Anora,” he says firmly, pushing a little harder than usual.
Anora’s eyes narrow. “Why are you always forcing fruit on me? What’s your deal?” Her voice is clipped, annoyed, but not enough for me to interfere.
Then her gaze moves to me. Her face softens in an instant as she realizes I’m standing there. Andrew takes the hint. “Well, that’s my cue. Time to find Kade and Hazel,” he mutters, scurrying for the door like he’s got somewhere better to be.
Now it’s just us. Alone.
The difference between what just happened in the basement and this moment is striking—blood and vengeance giving way to something softer, sweeter. But maybe that’s what being supernatural means: containing multitudes, being capable of both violence and tenderness in equal measure. And somehow, impossibly, Anora accepts both sides of me.
I glance down at her tray, then grab the bowl of fruit. She watches me carefully, suspicion flickering in her eyes. Picking up the fork, I stab a piece of melon and hold it out to her.
“This is your handiwork, isn’t it?” she asks, narrowing her gaze.
I shrug, my expression calm. “I’d like you to have a healthy meal. Problem with that?”
She glares, opening her mouth to snap some sort of protest, but I press the melon to her lips before she can form the words. She gasps softly, then takes the bite without complaint, chewing as the sweet, sticky juice drips down her chin.
Everything about this moment feels too intimate, too intense. The way she eats, the way she trusts me—it’s undoing me piece by piece. It’s not just the act of feeding her. It’s the shape of her body in that damn dress, the curve of her as she casually sits there, unaware of what she does to me. My jaw clenches, nails digging into my palm as I will myself to stay composed.
But my beasts—my ravenous, impatient beasts—are clawing at my self-control. They whisper to me, pushing limits. Touch her. Take her. Just a taste won’t hurt.
It’s a lie. I know it’s a lie, but before I have time to fight it, I’m behind her. My hands press to the table on either side of her, caging her in. She freezes briefly, then lets out a giggle when I lower my head to brush my nose along her cheek. Slowly, I trail down to her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent grounds me, yet sets my instincts aflame all at once.
“Is it finished?” she asks quietly.
I nod, my nose still buried against her neck. “It’s done,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I’d like. I press my lips lightly to her skin, a breath away from losing control.
“And Mike?”
“He’s gone.” Simple. No elaboration necessary.
“Good,” she whispers. There’s a calmness to her tone that throws me off, but it makes me smile. She approves—of him being taken care of? Of me handling it? Does that mean I’ve done right by her?
“You’re not angry with me,” I say, studying her face. Her scent hasn’t shifted, and there’s no fire in her voice.
She pushes the last of her sandwich into her mouth, then turns to face me. Her eyes scan over me briefly before her hands move to my chest. “You’re all cleaned up,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing along my shirt.
I lean down, resting my forehead against hers. “No, I’m not angry, Amir,” she says softly. “I’m relieved. You came back to me. ”
Her words hit something raw in me. I reach up, cupping her face in my hands and forcing her to meet my eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that, Anora. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Then I kiss her. I don’t mean to let it deepen, but it does. She melts into me like she always does, her arms locking around my neck, pressing herself against me. Her lips are soft, her breath warm, her taste drawing me in until there’s nothing left of me but the want.
My hands drop, gripping her hips as I lift her onto the stainless steel table, pulling her close. Her legs part, and her dress slides up her thighs. Her scent shifts slightly—something sweet, tropical—papaya, apples, berries—and it’s intoxicating. Wave after wave of it crashes into me, undoing every thread of resolve I have left.
She gasps when I cup her breasts roughly, a soft whimper escaping her lips. All I feel is heat. All I want is her. What control I have left is slipping, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull myself back.
“Amir,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.
“Anora,” I rasp, my lips brushing hers, “I can’t take this anymore. Let me taste you.”
“Yes,” she breathes, so fast I almost think I imagined it. Her chest rises and falls as I press my forehead to hers, my hand sliding down from her breast. She watches me, her lips parting, as I take two fingers into my mouth, licking them slowly. Her eyes widen. Then, I pull my fingers free and drag them down her dress, torturously slow, until I reach the heat between her legs.
“Anora,” I say, my voice low, desperate. My fingers brush over the damp fabric of her panties, teasing the folds of her pussy. I grip the thin material, my fingertips barely grazing her, and I look into her eyes. “I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re worth so much more than this—more than my fucking lust. Tell me to stop, Anora. Command me. My beasts... they’re yours. They belong to you, only you.”
I hope she’ll stop me, make me see reason. But instead, she grabs my shirt, her fingers fisting the fabric so hard I think it might tear.
“I want you to own me, Amir. Take me. Don’t stop. Please,” she begs, her breath ragged, her voice trembling.
Her words hit me like a blow, awakening something primal deep inside. My restraint snaps. Everything I am—king, protector, beast—all of it narrows down to this moment, to her. Centuries of control crumbling beneath her trust, her acceptance. She sees the monster in me and still begs for more. How can I deny her anything when she offers herself so completely?
Slowly, carefully, I slide two fingers under her panties and press inside her. She’s tight—so tight I feel her clamp down almost instantly. She winces, her mouth falling open, her eyes wide.
“I know it hurts, angel,” I murmur, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Just breathe. Look at me. Feel me.”
Her gaze stays on mine as she sucks in a deep breath, her chest heaving. I curl my fingers slightly, moving carefully, stretching her inch by inch.
“I’m sorry, angel,” I whisper, my forehead pressing against hers. “I can’t stop now. You gave me permission. My beasts won’t let me stop until you come on my fingers.”
She whimpers at my words, her body trembling beneath me. Slowly, I begin to thrust my fingers in and out of her, curling them to find the spot I know will drive her wild. My thumb brushes against her clit, and when her head snaps back and a sharp gasp escapes her lips, I know I’ve found it.
Her body arches, her arousal flooding me, intoxicating me. I speed up, thrusting deeper, harder, curling with precision. Her legs twitch, and she tries to pull away, her body overwhelmed, but I hold her steady.
“Don’t run from me, Anora,” I growl, my free hand releasing her waist to grab the back of her neck. I pull her forward, forcing her to meet my eyes. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips trembling.
“Yes, baby,” I murmur, my voice thick with need. “Let me see you fall apart. I want to watch you break for me. Come on my fingers, Anora. Let me see it.”
Her walls clench around me, gripping my fingers as her orgasm builds. I pick up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, grinding my thumb against her clit. My forehead presses to hers, and I watch every second of her unraveling.
“Come for me, Anora,” I command, my voice rough, and she does.
Her body locks up, her pussy gripping my fingers as she cries out, her head snapping back again. Her breath catches, her hands claw at my shirt, and she shakes against me as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice breaking. I don’t stop, don’t pull back, continuing to pump my fingers in and out of her, drawing out every second of her release. Her moans are muffled as I press my mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, swallowing her cries.
Her body trembles, then starts to relax, her grip on me loosening. Only then do I slow my movements, easing my fingers out of her. I break the kiss, leaning back just enough to look at her flushed face. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath.
I glance down at my hand, my fingers glistening with her arousal. Slowly, I lift them to my mouth, slipping them past my lips, tasting her. My eyes close, savoring the sweetness of her essence—a mix of tropical fruit, with something uniquely hers.
The taste alone nearly undoes me. Something inside me stirs, deep and primal, my beasts clawing to the surface. My hand slams against the table beside her to steady myself, my breathing ragged as I fight for control.
She watches me, her lips still parted, her body trembling. And I know—this is only the beginning.
“So beautiful. So perfect. Everything about you, Anora,” I murmur, straightening up and fixing my posture. She’s still panting, her chest rising and falling, her mind trying to process what just happened. Good. I want her like this—broken, undone.
“I think you’re ready for a nap now,” I say, my voice soft. She doesn’t know how much I love watching her sleep. Being close to her, stroking her cheek as she dreams, feels like my only peace. Sometimes, I can tell when her soul drifts into another timeline. She speaks in her sleep—soft, fragmented words—and I piece together where Fate has taken her.
I wish I could go with her. Hold her hand. Be there for her when she sees the past. I know my mother is behind this—sending her back through time. There’s a reason for it. Maybe it’s to help her understand me better, to know what made me this way, to prepare herself for the burden of loving me. I’m not easy to love.
But does she really need to see all of it? The horrors? The pain? I wish I could shield her from it, keep her safe from the past.
Her eyes start to droop, her body relaxing, and before she can slump over, I scoop her into my arms. She doesn’t even fight it. I hold her close to my chest, cradling her like something precious. She doesn’t last more than a few seconds before falling asleep, her soft snores vibrating against me.
I chuckle quietly, my lips brushing the top of her head.
I love her so much already.
I’m doomed.
But it’s a doom I’ve waited millennia for, a destruction I’d choose again and again. Because loving her isn’t just about passion or desire - it’s about finally finding someone who makes all the darkness worthwhile. Someone who sees past the crown, past the power, past the beast, straight to the heart of me. And maybe that’s what terrifies me most: not that she’ll run from the monster, but that she’ll stay and make me whole.