Chapter 26
26
Anora
A mir’s warm hands grip my waist, pulling me tight against his chest. I let out a soft moan, surprised by the way he holds me. He’s never done this before. The whole week I’ve been with him, he’s always been distant, careful, like he’s afraid to cross some invisible line. Not now. Now he’s clutching me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. His body is warm, his scent soothing, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Completely safe.
His hands move, rubbing slow, steady circles on my back. His voice is soft in my ear, low enough to make me shiver. “Anora, do you want me to let you go?”
I shake my head against his chest, clinging to him. The thought of him letting go makes my stomach twist. I don’t want to lose this—his heat, his smell, his touch. He chuckles, pulling me even closer. I lift my leg, draping it over his, trying to merge into him.
“How do you feel, angel?” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in my hair .
“Like a princess,” I whisper.
He laughs, warm and deep. “Then I haven’t done enough. You should feel like a queen.”
I snort, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see me. “Stop calling me that, Amir. I’m not a queen.”
Before I can say anything else, I’m on my back, my wrists pinned above my head. It happens so fast I don’t even process it until I’m staring up at him, his weight keeping me in place. His grip is firm, unyielding, but not painful.
“Anora,” he says, his voice steady, serious, “I’ll never call you anything less than what you are. You’re a queen. My queen. You need to understand that.”
I try to wiggle free, but it’s pointless. His strength is ridiculous. I glare at him, but he doesn’t budge.
“You’re more than just a queen to me, Anora,” he continues, his tone softening, but the intensity in his eyes doesn’t fade. “You’re a goddess. You deserve to be worshiped.”
His words send a jolt through me, and I can’t stop the way my body reacts. I groan, hating how easily he gets under my skin. “Amir,” I murmur, but his lips brush against my cheek, silencing me.
“You didn’t dream after your orgasm,” he says, and I freeze, his words catching me off guard. His lips skim my cheek again, and I turn my head slightly, trying to avoid him, but he’s persistent. “You slept so peacefully, Anora,” he whispers. “You were completely at ease.”
He’s right. I didn’t dream. I didn’t toss and turn or wake up in a cold sweat like I usually do. I felt... good. Rested. Whole. His lips find mine, and this time, I don’t resist. I give in, moaning softly as his hands release my wrists and slide down my body. His touch is deliberate, his thumbs brushing over my breasts through the thin fabric of my bra. I giggle against his lips, unable to help myself .
“Is that your favorite spot?” I tease, but the words come out breathy, shaky.
He deepens the kiss, his hands still exploring, his thumbs teasing over my nipples in a way that has my back arching off the bed. He pulls back just enough to speak, his voice thick with longing. “I just want to be with you. Just us. No interruptions, no responsibilities. I want to learn everything about you, Anora. Explore you. Take care of you. Give you everything you need.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave. I can feel the longing in his touch, in his kiss, in the way he’s looking at me. It’s overwhelming. Too much. I gasp, pulling back slightly. “Amir,” I breathe, trying to steady myself.
He doesn’t stop. “No more ruling. No more kingdoms. Just love. Just you.” His voice is desperate now, his lips brushing mine again. “I don’t need Wintermoon. I don’t need anything but you, Anora.”
My eyes snap open at his words. My hands press against his chest, finding the strength to push him back. “Amir,” I say, my voice firmer this time.
His eyes open slowly, confusion clouding his expression. He shifts, lifting himself off me, giving me space to sit up. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, his voice quiet. His hand comes up, brushing gently against my cheek.
“What do you mean you don’t need Wintermoon?” I ask, ignoring the way his touch makes me want to lean into him. “Of course you need it. Wintermoon is your home. Why are you talking like this?”
He looks away, frustration flickering across his face. “Anora?—”
“No,” I cut him off, glaring at him. “Amir, answer me.”
He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks back at me. His gaze softens, his frustration melting away. “There are things you don’t know,” he admits. “Things you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” I demand.
He hesitates, his jaw clenching. “I’m not a worthy king, Anora. I’ve done nothing but cause problems for them—for the supernaturals. They don’t need me. They never did. I’ve been gone for six hundred years, asleep while they built a paradise without me.”
“Amir...” My heart aches at the pain in his voice. I sit up straighter, but before I can say anything, he grabs my hips, pulling me into his lap. I squeal, caught off guard.
“Anora,” he says, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close. His voice is shaky now, raw. “I was never meant to be a king. I didn’t want this. I just wanted a family. A family that wouldn’t reject me.”
I feel the strain in his body, the way he’s holding me like I might vanish if he lets go. It hurts to see him like this. I press my head against his chest, sighing when I feel him start to relax under my touch.
“I don’t know everything, Amir,” I say softly. “I know you’re a leader. A king. But I don’t know how you came into power. I don’t know why you went into that six-hundred-year slumber. Will you tell me?”
He stiffens again, his body going rigid beneath me. I tilt my head back, looking up at him, waiting. Hoping.
“Amir?” I say softly when he suddenly goes quiet. Too quiet. It’s unsettling—he’s so powerful, yet there’s something in him now that feels... off. Fear. What could someone like him possibly be afraid of?
“Give me time, Anora,” he says, his voice low, distant, his eyes focused on the window. The sun is almost gone, and I realize I’ve slept most of the day.
I don’t push. I don’t want to. He’s holding me, and his warmth feels like a shield from everything outside this room. I let myself melt into him, my cheek against his chest, my eyes tracing the tattoos on his dark, strong arms. I wonder what they mean. There’s so much I don’t know about him, and as much as I want answers, I feel like I’ve already pushed enough. For now, I let it go.
“Amir…” I say after a moment, my voice softer this time. I glance up at him, and he looks down at me, his expression softening as he smiles. That smile—it’s too easy to get lost in it.
“Yes, angel,” he replies, his tone full of patience. He always has that with me, even when I can tell he’s frustrated.
“I don’t have your power, but I can feel things. I can sense when something’s wrong. There’s fear, Amir. What are you afraid of?” I ask, watching him carefully.
He chuckles and looks away, his eyes returning to the window. “It’s the mate bond, Anora—the pull,” he says, his voice calm but low. “You feel it because you’re bonded to me. The more time we spend together, the stronger it gets.”
I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a sly grin. “Thanks for the explanation, but I still want an answer. What are you afraid of?”
He laughs again, shaking his head, and when he looks down at me, I’m already glaring. My frustration only makes his smile grow. “I love your fire, Anora,” he says. “You hate it when I call you a queen, but that’s exactly what you are. A queen. I can’t call you anything less.”
I blush, but I don’t let him off the hook. I keep my eyes on him, waiting. He laughs again, but this time his expression softens. He leans down, presses a kiss to my forehead, and pulls back, looking straight into my eyes.
“I’m afraid of losing you, Anora. Terrified,” he finally admits .
His words hit me like a punch to the chest. I stare at him, stunned, because I can see it in his eyes. He’s not just saying it—he means it. “You’re not going to lose me, Amir,” I say firmly, hoping he believes me.
But his face changes. His expression hardens, and he looks at me with a seriousness that makes my stomach twist. “I won’t let you leave me, even if you tried, Anora.” His tone is sharp, and I gasp. “I’ve waited too long for you. There is no leaving me. Even if you hated me, I wouldn’t let you go. I won’t live alone anymore. I’ve been alone since the beginning of time, Anora. Alone.” His voice breaks slightly, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “I pray to Fate every night that you don’t hate me, because I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so long.”
I don’t know what to say. I just stare at him, completely frozen, my head spinning. His words are too much—too raw, too real—and I can’t process them fast enough.
Before I can find my voice, he moves. His arm slides under my legs, scooping me up like I weigh nothing, and he stands. I squeal, startled, but he just laughs, carrying me out of the room like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Amir—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I’m putting you in a warm bath,” he says, grinning as if my stunned reaction amuses him. “Let you soak. Then we’ll figure out the rest from there.”
He sets me down on the bathroom counter, his hands steady but gentle. I blink at him, still trying to wrap my head around everything he’s just said, but I shake it off. Now’s not the time to fall apart.
“I want to know more about you,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I want the whole story—good and bad. Everything.”
He gives me a look, one brow raised, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. “Demanding, aren’t you?” he teases, but I don’t back down. I narrow my eyes at him, and he sighs, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s a grin on his face as he waves his hand over the tub, filling it effortlessly.
“So, you’re warlock and a mix of beasts?” I question. He nods, slowly approaching me.
“I am, Anora. I was born a warlock, and reborn a warlock, vampire, and a mixture of beasts.” He grabs a lock of my long wild curly hair that could use a straighter or even better, a deep condition. It’s dry and brittle. I haven’t exactly been taking care of it since I’ve been with him.
“Reborn? What happened?”
“Anora…” He says my name with an exasperated sigh. I glare at him because I need him to start talking to me.
Pampering me, cradling me, trying make me forget about the world, the problems isn’t what I need. What I need is to know him, so I can be the woman he needs. What he wants is a doll. If I wanted to be a man’s toy, I would have just dealt with Mike. He tries to lean into me, but I place my hands against his chest. He has the power to stay put, to make me submit to him, but he doesn’t. He looks down at my hands with a frown, but steps back, giving me the distance I crave. I take the opportunity to jump down from the counter and start to leave the bathroom, but he catches my arm, pulling me back to him.
“Anora, what have I done now?” He questions. I try to pull my arm away from him, but he won’t release me this time.
“Let me go. I want to go back to bed.”
“No.” His voice is final and I glare at him. “Please, talk to me. Tell what I’ve done so I can fix it. I don’t like you unhappy with me. ”
“I don’t like the fact that you’re trying to mold me into something that suits you. I’m trying to get to know you better, understand you, yet you push me away every time. I’m not a doll, Amir. If I wanted to be controlled, I would have given Mike a chance.” I squeal, fear hitting me like never before when suddenly, his beautiful golden eyes go dark. There it is, the real Amir. I’ve never seen him angry, not even in my dreams. “It’s like watching a mask slip away, revealing something ancient and terrifying beneath. This isn’t the gentle king who holds me while I sleep or feeds me fruit. This is something else entirely—something that’s survived centuries of violence and loss, something that would tear the world apart to keep what it considers its own.
He’s always found a way to keep a calm demeanor. Not now.
“It’s a good thing that he’s dead then. But then again, I had already planned to kill him, long before he showed his face again.” I push at his chest, but he just grins at me, his smile dark, and he refuses to release me.
“Know this, Anora, since you’re interested in testing my patience.” He leans into me, his sharp teeth flashing, his eyes pitch black as if there’s nothing there at all,” I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he leans closer and I turn my head away from him, swallowing nervously, “I mean it, Anora. That’s not a game you want to play with me.” Tears well in my eyes, and I nod nervously, my body shaking with fear. The moment a tear escapes me, running down my cheek and I sniffle, Amir’s demeanor suddenly changes, his eyes flashing with the normal color of gold again.
“Anora… I’m so sorry.” He murmurs.
“I’ll do whatever you want, just please let go of my wrist.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, submission feeling foreign and wrong. But there’s real fear coursing through me now—not just of his anger, but of the realization that I’m falling for someone I might never fully understand, someone who can shift from tender to terrifying in the space of a heartbeat.
He does so immediately, stepping back.
I walk around him to the bath tub and start to pull of my dress, pausing and looking back at him.
“I’d like to bathe alone if that’s okay.” I say. He looks away from me, and I hear the heavy sigh escape him, but without another word, he steps out of the bathroom, gently pulling the door shut. I take the opportunity to put a hand over my mouth and cry, sitting down at the edge of the bathroom.
I don’t think he trusts me. That’s why he won’t open up to me. But I don’t even know how to get him to talk to me. I have to keep trying. I can feel the danger. Something isn’t right. The dreams, the warnings, it’s starting to get more intense. I need to figure something out and quickly.
“Because loving him isn’t enough—not when there are secrets eating away at him, not when his darkness can surface so suddenly. The dreams aren’t just warnings anymore; they’re a countdown. And somewhere between his kisses and his threats, between his tenderness and his terror, lies a truth that could either save us or destroy us both.