Chapter 27
27
Anora
I can hear him pacing outside the bathroom door as I strip and step into the tub, lowering myself into the water. It’s warm, the perfect temperature, but it doesn’t calm me. Nothing will, not with Amir so close and yet not here. He’s just outside, and I already miss him. I groan, glancing toward the door. Through the frosted glass, I see his shadow moving back and forth, like he’s waiting for me to say something, hoping I’ll let him in.
I’m going to. I can’t stand this distance, and that bothers me. I want to understand the pull he told me about, but I don’t. I rest my chin on my knees, my mind spinning. With every second that passes, the feeling grows worse—the longing, the ache to have him close. I groan again and lean back against the tub, letting my body sink into the water.
“Amir…” I call softly.
The door swings open before I even finish saying his name. He’s in the bathroom in an instant, standing over the tub, his eyes locked on mine. His expression cuts right through me—raw, pained. I hate seeing him like this. He drops to his knees beside the tub, his movements desperate, almost pleading.
“Alright, angel. You win,” he says, his voice low and strained. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just… please don’t punish me by keeping me away from you.”
I smile nervously, unsure how to respond. “You scared me,” I murmur, looking away so I don’t have to see the emotion in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Anora,” he says quickly. “I know I don’t deserve it, but find it in your heart to forgive me.”
I look back at him, confused. This is Amir—the man who feels larger than life to me, the one everyone treats like royalty—and he’s here, practically groveling. It doesn’t make sense.
“Let’s just drop it,” I say with a sigh. “I wasn’t upset. I just wanted to get to know you better.”
“Then I’ll talk,” he says, leaning closer. “I’ll tell you anything. Just don’t hate me.”
I laugh, but his face stays serious. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes,” he says, no hesitation in his voice. His hand dips into the water, his fingers brushing gently against my thigh.
“I was born a warlock,” he starts, his voice steady but soft. “Part of the Bailey witch coven. Aya, Asma, and Alina are my sisters. We were the first coven on earth, created by Fate herself. Our job was to oversee humans and the other covens that formed, to keep balance on earth. Aya was entrusted with a book—a powerful one. It holds spells, including dark magic, but the rule was clear: the book was only to be used to protect the planet, never for dark magic. Aya kept the only key to the book, and for a long time, we did our job. ”
He pauses and meets my eyes. I nod, encouraging him to keep going. “It’s okay, Amir. You can tell me.”
He draws in a sharp breath. “We underestimated humans,” he says, his voice deepening. “How hard it would be to keep balance. They started building, polluting, destroying the earth. Wars, bloodshed, greed—no matter what their God gave them, it was never enough. I thought we could lead by example, but it didn’t work. And Aya... she grew frustrated. She couldn’t stand what they were doing to the earth, how little they cared for the planet keeping them alive. Eventually, she broke the one rule we were warned never to break.”
“Dark magic,” I finish for him.
He nods. “I tried to stop her. I tried to pull her back before it consumed her, but she attacked me.” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard. “I was no match for dark magic. I died that night. The second death on earth.”
“Cain and Abel,” I murmur, my eyes widening as it clicks. “You’re that old?”
A small smile tugs at his lips, and he nods. “Mother Fate gave me life again,” he says. “When I rose, I was no longer just a warlock. I learned from her that we’d lost our sanctuary—our place, just like the humans. I’d become something else. She said it would take darkness to destroy dark magic. So, I became a creature of the night. I can shift into almost any animal. The sun doesn’t hurt me, but…” He gestures to his eyes, then his ears. “I’m not what I was. I’m something darker. And with that darkness came a thirst for blood.”
He looks away. I reach for his hand and press it to my thigh, keeping my own hand over his. “Keep going,” I say softly.
He nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows again. “I returned to my sisters. I forgave Aya—I knew it wasn’t her. It was the dark magic. But when they saw me, saw what I’d become, they rejected me. Aya couldn’t even look at me.” His voice drops, and he stares at the floor. “In that moment, I lost my coven. I lost my family. I was completely alone.”
I let go of his hand and lean over the edge of the tub, cupping his cheek. His eyes close, and he leans into my touch like he’s starving for it.
“For years, I hid in the shadows. The loneliness eating at me. No coven would take me in, not after discovering what I am. So, to end it, I created the first shifter. A young man on the edge of death—his family murdered. But he had a connection with wolves. I’ve watched him for years, admiring his loyalty to his village and his wolves. His name was Zorah.
He became my companion for many years, teaching me about the world, helping me build a home of my own. Then I watched him fall in love again. The way he loves his wife—so fiercely, so completely—it’s different from anything I’ve seen. He claimed her, and soon he built a pack of his own.”
Amir pauses when I shiver, the water going cold. I don’t want him to stop, but in an instant, he’s gone. He returns just as fast, holding out a towel.
“I can turn around if you want,” he says softly.
Instead, I stand, watching him as his eyes roam over my body. His jaw clenches, and he bites his lip like he’s struggling to stay in control.
“Anora,” he murmurs, his voice low, “you are truly a vision.”
He steps closer, wrapping the towel around me. His hands are gentle but firm as he picks me up from the tub, holding me tightly. He carries me to the bedroom, setting me down near the dresser. My eyes flick to the destroyed television, but Amir waves his hand, and a burst of magic repairs it in seconds, as if Hazel never touched it.
I open the dresser and pull out some underwear and a nightgown. Amir follows, stepping closer. He takes the clothes gently from my hands.
“May I?” he asks, his expression serious. “May I have the pleasure of dressing you?”
I give him a playful grin. “Only if you promise to finish telling me what happened.”
He nods, tossing the clothes onto the bed. With a snap of his fingers, a small bag of toiletries appears in his hand. He opens it and pulls out a bottle of lotion. Then he removes my towel. His eyes drop immediately to my chest, and he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep himself together.
He pours lotion into his palm, then kneels in front of me. His eyes meet mine, dark and intense, before he grabs one of my legs, lifting it slightly. His hand starts at my foot, rubbing the lotion into my skin, slow and firm. His touch feels warm, soothing, but it’s almost impossible to focus.
“As I settled in with my new family, the House of Zorah, I began to envy his happiness,” Amir says, his voice steady as his fingers move up my leg. “Even though I had him, I still felt alone. So, I created more shifters—the lion, the dragon, the bear, the tiger. Just about every shifter you can think of.”
His hands reach my thigh, and my breath catches.
“But there was a problem,” he continues, his voice soft but steady. “Not every shifter was loyal to their mate like Zorah. They started mating with human women recklessly, producing shifter children. Worse, they began stealing human women, overpowering human men, creating wars humans couldn’t win.
“And I couldn’t stop them,” he says, his hands working their way up to my other leg. “They were my children. I couldn’t bring myself to kill them. I’d done the one thing that Fate warned me never to do—ruin the balance on earth.”
I gasp softly when his hands reach my chest. He doesn’t stop, his touch deliberate but gentle as he applies lotion to my skin. His fingertips linger, stealing small touches that send heat rushing through me. Every caress is maddening. I want to lose myself in him, but I hold back, forcing myself to stay still.
He helps me into my underwear, sliding the panties into place before carefully fastening my bra. Then he pulls the nightgown over my head, tugging my damp hair free so it falls down my back. Without a word, he lifts me into his arms again, carrying me to the bed. He sets me down gently, then climbs in beside me, wrapping his arms around me. I let him pull me close, resting against his chest.
“Aya and my sisters were furious with me,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It was the first time I saw them since they banished me from the coven. I missed them. Aya’s solution was to cleanse everything—to start over. But Fate and the human God already had a plan. The human God had Noah build an ark, and Fate told me to save the House of Zorah. She said they were the key to building the new sanctuary, our new home.
“I did as she asked,” he says, his voice strained. “But when it was over, Fate wasn’t done with us. She gave us a new law—for all supernaturals. We could only love one in our lifetime. A fated mate, born just for us. It was based on Zorah’s loyalty to his mate.”
He pauses, his hand resting lightly on my back.
“I was excited about the law,” he admits. “I thought it meant I’d have someone too. Someone who would love me unconditionally. But Aya… she hated it. She felt like her fr eedom to love who she wanted was stolen. She turned to dark magic again. This time, she tried to destroy the House of Zorah and cast a spell to control humans, to stop them from ruining their second chance.
“I stopped her,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “But nothing was ever the same again.”
He sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly, as if unburdened by telling the story. His eyes meet mine, waiting for my reaction.
I lift my hand to his cheek, stroking it gently. “Thank you for telling me,” I say, giving him a small smile.
“See? Nothing’s changed, Amir. I still want you, just like I did before.”
If anything, knowing your past only makes me want you more. You’ve carried this weight alone for so long - the rejection, the loneliness, the responsibility. No wonder you hold on so tightly to what’s yours. No wonder you’re so afraid of losing me.
He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. My heart flutters, and I fight the urge to tell him how I feel. I want to say it so badly—that I love him, that I’ve loved him for years, every time I saw him in my dreams. Knowing what he’s been through, his pain, his loneliness, only makes it stronger.
It’s strange how pieces of him make more sense now - his fierce protectiveness, his need for control, his desperation for connection. He’s not just a king who’s lived for millennia; he’s someone who’s been broken and rebuilt himself, someone who’s learned to turn pain into power.”
“You have me now,” I say softly.
His eyes open, but the pain is still there. It lingers, raw and heavy, like there’s more to the story I don’t know yet. I want to ask, to understand everything, but I see the exhaustion in his face. Reliving it is hard for him. It hurts him. And the last thing I want is to cause him more pain.
“That’s enough for tonight,” I tell him, my voice gentle but firm. Relief washes over his face, and it makes me feel lighter too. “Later, you can tell me more—about me being a witch, about everything. Help me understand it better. But right now, I’m hungry.”
He chuckles, pulling me into his arms. I don’t resist, letting him hold me. His lips brush mine, soft and tender, full of so much love it makes my chest ache.
“I love you, Anora,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “I will love and worship you forever.”
The intensity of his words makes my stomach twist. Love, I can handle. Worship? That’s a lot. It scares me a little, but I don’t say anything. He chuckles, pulling back before standing from the bed.
“I will feed you myself,” he says, his tone playful but confident. “Surely, it can’t be that hard to prepare a simple human meal.”
I cringe at the idea of him, someone so old and unfamiliar with modern life, trying to cook for me. But the eagerness in his eyes stops me from arguing. He wants to do this.
“I’ll take a bowl of mixed fruit,” I say, keeping it simple.
“That was the plan, Anora,” he replies, shrugging. “I am not feeding you that greasy cuisine you enjoy.” His tone is teasing, but I can see the smirk tugging at his lips before he teleports out of the room, not giving me a chance to respond.
I laugh quietly, shaking my head at him. He’s ridiculous, but my heart feels lighter. I’m proud of him, proud that he trusted me enough to tell me what happened, even if it wasn’t everything .
Now, I just have to make sure he finishes the story—before Fate decides to tell it for him.
Because somehow I know there’s more - darker secrets, deeper wounds. The way he hesitates, the shadows that cross his face when he speaks of certain memories... there’s something he’s still protecting me from. And I can’t shake the feeling that time is running out, that Fate’s patience with both of us is wearing thin.