Page 126 of Craving Carla

I take a bite of the eggs—perfectly fluffy, with just the right amount of salt and pepper—while he continues to massage my feet. The pressure of his thumbs against my sole sends waves of pleasure up my leg, making my toes curl involuntarily.

“I didn’t realize you still held onto your customs from when you were human,” I say between bites of turkey bacon.

“Not all of them,” Amari admits, his fingers moving to work on my other foot. “But some things just stuck with me.”

I think of his well-documented sexual history—community dick for centuries—but keep that observation to myself.

“I don’t disrespect anyone with a different viewpoint,” he continues. “Your life is your own, and what one chooses to put into their body is not my business.” His eyes meet mine, serious and sincere. “My business is you, Carla. Our children—Medina Shadow, and our arachnids.”

I smile, touched by his words and the easy way he includes my children in his life.

“I’m nervous about meeting Angie tonight,” I admit, setting down my fork. “About what information she might have for us.”I pick up my juice and take a long drink before continuing. “Something just feels off.”

Amari looks up at me, his hands pausing on my foot.

I put my plate down and finish my juice, setting the empty glass beside it. “I’m thankful that you got Verde and Petra back so they could finally be put to rest, but something tells me this isn’t the end of Alexis. She has my blood, and there were body parts missing from my children when you returned them. Limbs, organs, and their fangs.” I swallow hard, forcing the words out. “I want to know what she’s doing with them.”

“I’ve gotten as much intel on them as I could,” Amari says, frustration etched into every word. “But there’s a chamber in their lab that’s so off-limits, my people couldn’t get in there no matter how much they tried.”

“I’m almost tempted to send one of my children,” I say, the idea forming as I speak. “They can easily hide in the smallest spaces and go undetected, but I’m afraid I’d be sending them to their deaths if I did that.”

“No,” Amari says firmly. “Don’t worry about that. Let Bobby keep finding ways to infiltrate.” His hands resume their gentle massage. “While it may take longer, I’d rather the children stay here where they’re safe. Humans have figured out how to kill them, and I respect Damon and Amir for pulling you and our children off the border immediately once Verde and Petra were killed.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right but still feeling the urge to do something, anything, to protect my family. “Why am I nervous about you meeting Angie?” I ask, more to myself than to him. “The children still haven’t lifted the veil, so maybe it’s not just about you. It’s something else.”

“What’s bothering you?” Amari asks, his thumbs pressing into a particularly tender spot on my heel.

“I’m worried because of the memory of Tabatha,” I admit. “I wonder what happened to her.”

“I know for a fact that Aya killed the majority of the Blackwood witches,” Amari says. “Seeing you, Anora, and now your cousin Angie speaks volumes to the fact that maybe some lived.”

“I was born of Fate, and so was Anora,” I point out. “But Angie wasn’t. She’s actually from the bloodline.”

“How do you feel about that?” he asks, his eyes studying my face.

“Isolated,” I admit. “I don’t have a real bloodline to fall under, and I can’t get acceptance from other supernaturals. It’s lonely.”

Amari looks up at me, still rubbing my feet. “Not anymore.”

I smile down at him, a gentle warmth flowing through me that has nothing to do with the foot massage. “Right. Not anymore, thanks to you.”

I pull my feet out of his hands and lean down, kissing him. The angle is awkward, and I lose my balance, tumbling off the chair with a giggle. I land in his lap, not caring that I’ve probably crushed him, and deepen the kiss.

Amari wraps his arms around me, holding me close. “I could get used to this,” he murmurs against my lips. “Being loved by such a magnificent woman.”

I kiss him again, pouring all my emotions into it. “You make me feel safe,” I tell him when we finally break apart. “You make me feel wanted and loved.”

“Always,” he promises, his eyes serious.

As I rest my head against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart—his heart that beats for me—I wonder how he’ll feel about Angie. She just might be the one in-law he doesn’t get along with.

The thought makes me tense slightly. Angie is direct to a fault, blunt in a way that often comes across as rude. She has no filter, no sense of social niceties. And she has about as much patience for my children as the average human has for a cockroach in their kitchen. But she’s family—my only living blood relative besides her children and Anora—and I need her help.

43

Amari

Ihelp 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.

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