Page 71

Amari

I help Carla out of the SUV as I take in the Wintermoon Academy for the first time. The building rises before us, grand and imposing against the evening sky, its architecture striking a chord of nostalgia deep within me.

“It’s magnificent,” I murmur, unable to contain my admiration.

The Academy’s soaring arches and intricate stonework remind me of the universities of Granada during the height of Moorish civilization.

Those majestic institutions of learning—Madrasa Yusufiyya with its ornate courtyards, the libraries of Al-Andalus with their honeycomb-patterned ceilings—were once the intellectual jewels of my world before it all burned to ash.

This building captures that same spirit of knowledge and beauty, though rendered in a style that blends the old with the new.

Delicate lattice work adorns the windows, reminiscent of the mashrabiya screens that once filtered sunlight into our greatest halls of learning. The main entrance features an archway that looks like it could have been taken from the Court of Lions, its geometric patterns intricate and mesmerizing.

Carla watches me with a small smile playing at her lips. “House of Zorah did good work,” she says, clearly amused by my reverence.

I adjust my tie and shut the passenger door, taking another moment to appreciate the craftsmanship. “Yes, they certainly did. The attention to detail is remarkable—those weren’t easy patterns to recreate.”

Carla grabs my hand, her fingers warm against mine. I look down at her, smiling, but detect the nervousness in her scent—a subtle sharpness beneath her usual peach sweetness.

I pull her close against me. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she replies, her eyes scanning the Academy’s facade.

A movement catches my attention—two familiar forms crawling along the building’s exterior.

Kemnebi and Moria slip from the shadows, their many legs finding purchase on the stonework as they descend toward us.

Carla frowns at the sight of them and moves forward to meet them as they reach the ground and approach her feet.

“Go,” she commands, pointing toward the forest. “Get out of here. You know how Angie feels about you.”

Moria remains motionless for a moment, then sends me images—a beautiful Black woman with striking features and a perpetual scowl, followed by the words “mean” and “bitch” spelled out clearly in my mind.

I burst into laughter, harder than I have in a very long time. The sound rings out across the Academy grounds as I clutch my belly, unable to contain myself.

Carla looks back at me with confusion, but I can’t stop laughing.

“She really doesn’t like Angie,” I manage to say between bouts of laughter, pointing at Moria.

“Well, I don’t expect her to,” Carla replies dryly. “Angie did try to spray her with bug spray.”

This sends me into another fit of laughter, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. Moria taps her front legs against the ground irritably, sending me images spelling out “not funny.”

I finally calm myself, approaching Moria and Kemnebi as I stand beside Carla. “Sorry, Moria,” I say with a sigh. “I understand why you aren’t fond of her.”

I crouch down to their level. “But you need to listen to your Mommy. We need to find out more about Mommy’s origins with limbo, so we can figure out how to make you comfortable enough to lift the veil.”

I reach out, not touching them but offering my presence. “I will be close and protect Mommy.”

Moria hesitates, then turns and scuttles into the forest, Kemnebi following close behind.

Carla watches them go, her brow furrowed. “I wonder why they won’t lift it. They trust you, that’s evident, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Why?”

I lean in and plant a kiss on her cheek. “Does it even matter?”

She narrows her eyes at me, and I clear my throat, adjusting my tie.

“What I mean is that you love me, despite the mate bond. The power of our love when you do eventually feel it will be amplified.”

“But I’m essentially powerless too,” she argues.

“And I want to feel the mate bond. I want to claim you.” She slaps my chest playfully, and I chuckle, stepping back.

“So that these women know to stay away from you because you belong to me. But they don’t know that because I haven’t claimed you yet. ”

I grin at her, unable to hide my pleasure at her possessiveness. “Well, now that you put it that way...”

Carla rolls her eyes and walks toward the Academy’s entrance, pulling open the heavy door. I step forward and hold it for her, following her inside.

The inside is even more impressive than the outside. The ceilings are high and supported by curved columns. Stained glass windows line the walls, and wrought iron chandeliers hang from chains above, their lights glowing steadily.

Despite its grandeur, the Academy undeniably feels like a school.

Bulletin boards display student artwork and announcements.

Classrooms branch off from the main corridor, their doors labeled with plaques indicating subjects both mundane and magical.

The walls are lined with portraits of distinguished witches, warlocks, and elder shifters, their eyes seeming to follow us as we pass.

The place is quiet now, the children presumably asleep in their dormitories.

“This is it,” Carla says with a shrug. “The kids really like the Academy, and frankly, I don’t blame them. I wish I had something like this growing up. It would have...”

I reach out, gently stroking her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. “Given you structure,” I finish for her, “helped you be more sure of yourself.”

Carla gets lost in my eyes for a moment. “Yeah, something like that.”

I grin, but my focus shifts when I see two figures coming down the hallway. A woman walks in front, her steps steady and controlled, with a taller, broader man trailing just behind her.

“That’s Angie,” Carla says quietly, “and her fated mate, Jacob from House of Zorah.”

“I thought Jacob was House of Amos,” I say, confused by this information.

“It’s complicated,” Carla explains. “Since he lost his entire pack during the Great War, he’s not part of his cousin’s pack.”

I shrug. “Makes sense, I guess.”

As they draw closer, I take in their appearances.

Jacob is a mountain of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall with the solid build of a bodybuilder.

His skin is deep brown, his eyes an unnatural electric blue that marks him as a shifter.

A neatly trimmed beard frames his severe jawline, and his head is crowned with short, tight curls.

Despite being indoors, he’s barefoot, his toes gripping the stone floor with each step.

Angie is striking in her own right—petite yet commanding, with warm brown skin and eyes a deep shade of brown.

Her hair falls in elaborate braids decorated with gold cuffs that shift gently as she moves.

She wears a fitted blue sweater and dark jeans with simple flats, but holds herself with the authority of someone in full ceremonial robes.

Her face is beautiful but stern, the look of someone who’s seen too much and let little slide.

I bow my head respectfully as she reaches us, but Angie merely folds her arms across her chest, giving me a critical once-over before turning her attention to Carla.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, offering my most charming smile.

“Cut the Casanova bullshit,” Angie snaps, her voice sharp as a blade.

I laugh—I’ve heard that before. I glance at Carla, who sighs and shrugs, clearly used to her cousin’s bluntness.

Angie looks back at Carla. “No wonder her children won’t lift the veil. This dude’s slept with more women than Satan himself.”

I hold up my hand, still chuckling. “Hold on. While I understand your apprehension, I can assure you my loyalty is to Carla, now and forever. My heart beats for her.”

Angie rolls her eyes. “Too bad your dick wasn’t loyal enough to wait for her.”

Carla groans, and Angie turns away, motioning for us to follow. “Come on to the Witching Library. It’s just down the hall. Damon, Kade, Queen Anora, and Selene are already inside waiting for us.”

I glance at Jacob, who’s looking at me with undisguised disgust. I laugh softly and adjust my suit. These holier-than-thou wolf shifters always think they’re better than everyone else. Please give me a fucking break. They’re more flawed than the rest of us.

I look down at Carla, smiling at the fact that she doesn’t seem ashamed of me. She looks up, meeting my gaze, and shrugs.

“I know your past,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” She reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about it, Amari. I’ll admit that it stings, but I can’t turn off my love for you. I won’t.”

I stop walking, cupping her face between my palms, staring into her eyes intently. “My loyalty is to you and only you.”

“I know that,” she says simply. “Now can we go figure out how to lift the veil so I can claim my man?”

I steal a kiss from her, deep and passionate, pouring all my love into it. When I pull back, her eyes are slightly glazed, her lips parted. I take her hand and pull her toward the library where Angie stands tapping her foot impatiently against the floor.

She isn’t the most welcoming, but I understand why. She doesn’t approve of me with Carla, and it’s a fair assessment. My track record doesn’t actually give me a good report.

We enter the library, a vast circular room with bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling.

Anora stands between Kade and Damon, regal in a flowing emerald gown that complements her golden-brown skin and emphasizes her status as queen.

Selene sits at a massive oak table, carefully turning the brittle pages of what appears to be an ancient journal.