Page 13 of Craving Carla

I turn and head for the door, my mind already racing. What am I going to wear? What if I’m a complete klutz and spill something on myself? What if I say something that turns him off? What if my children decide to follow me despite my instructions and cause a scene?

As I step outside, the afternoon breeze hits my face. I make a mental note to have a very serious conversation with my children about boundaries. For the first time in over a thousand years, someone has asked me on a date. Someone thinks I’m beautiful, wants to spend time with me not because they have to, but because they want to.

Maybe Fate can’t give me a fated mate, but she’s thrown me a bone. A human who appreciates me, who doesn’t run screaming from my nature. Even if it’s temporary, even if his mortal lifespan means any feelings between us will be brief, I’ll take it.

I can live with that.

4

Amari

Medina Corp

The elevator doors slide open on the thirty-third floor with a soft chime, and I step out into my domain, my Italian leather shoes quiet against the polished marble. My staff practically leap out of my path, their heads bowing as I pass. I straighten my charcoal suit jacket and run my fingers over the short-cropped curls on my head, making sure everything’s pristine.

Behind me, my two personal lawyers step out of the elevator, clutching their briefcases like weapons. Sarah, a vampire I turned in the ‘60s, and Vincent, a warlock who’s been in my employ for three decades. Both would burn this city to the ground in a legal battle if I asked them to.

I stride through the open workspace, nodding to the employees who rise from their stations to acknowledge me. Men and women, humans and supernaturals, all united under one banner: making Medina Corp the most powerful entity inthe state of Michigan. Some of them have worked for me for generations, their loyalty bought with genuine care and fair compensation. Others are newer additions, but they’ve already learned what it means to be part of something bigger than themselves.

The morning sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting up the sleek workstations. My employees are attractive, smart, and hardworking. I don’t sleep with them—that’s a strict rule I’ve never broken—but I can’t help noticing. The way Sarah’s hips move when she walks, the shape of my human secretary in her pencil skirt.

They know I’m watching, and they put on a show for me. A little extra swing in their walk, a strategic adjustment of their collar, a knowing smile when they catch my eye. It’s all part of the game we play, the dance of power and attraction that keeps the workplace interesting.

But business comes first. Always.

I approach the conference room where my guests await, and Bobby straightens to attention beside the door. He’s one of my best soldiers, turned in 1974 after the KKK nearly lynched him for being black and proud during the Black Panther movement. I found him in an alley in Alabama, more dead than alive, and offered him a choice: die as a victim, or live as a predator.

He chose life, and in exchange, pledged his immortality to my cause.

Bobby hasn’t aged a day since 1974—his afro is still perfectly shaped, his beard neatly trimmed, his dark brown eyes burning with the same revolutionary fire that nearly got him killed as a mortal. He wears a tailored suit now instead of a black beret, but he still carries himself like a soldier ready for war.

“They’re waiting, sir,” he says, his voice marked by decades spent fighting for our people.

I nod once. Bobby and I have an understanding that goes beyond words. He saw what I represent—not just power, but the ability to tear down the systems that oppress our kind. The slow, calculated dismantling of white supremacy, the elevation of those the world would rather forget.

It’s chess, not checkers. One wrong move, and we lose the game entirely.

I fix my cufflinks and signal my lawyers. Time to show these corporate fucks what happens when they threaten what’s mine.

Bobby opens the door with a flourish, and I step into the conference room. The space is a testament to corporate power—a long obsidian table that seats twenty, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Detroit, and leather chairs that probably cost more than most people make in a year.

On one side of the table sits Alexis Blackburn, sister to the late Ron Blackburn. She’s stunning in a way that makes my dick take notice—caramel skin, exotic features that speak of mixed heritage, and a black suit that hugs her curves like a second skin. Her blazer is tailored to perfection, the skirt short enough to showcase legs that go on for days.

My eyes drop to her ass as she stands to greet me, and I have to adjust my tie to hide the effect she’s having on me. It’s round, plump, exactly the kind of ass I like to grip while I’m pounding into a woman from behind. She catches me looking and smirks, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

Across from her sit the supernatural board members—a vampire and a witch. Both traitors to their own kind, selling out for corporate interests. The vampire looks like he stepped out of a 1950s photograph, all slicked-back hair and arrogance. The witch wears her power like cheap perfume, too strong and trying too hard.

No shifters this time. They learned their lesson after the last massacre. Smart of them.

The vampire, though—he pisses me off just by existing. Vampires were created by King Amir. They owe their very existence to him, yet here one sits, ready to sell him out for corporate profit. It’s the kind of betrayal that makes my fangs ache.

I walk around the table, letting the tension build. When I reach Alexis, I stop just close enough that she has to look up to meet my eyes.

“Alexis,” I say, my voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I’m so glad you decided to join me.”

She extends her hand, and I take it, bringing it to my lips for a kiss. Her skin is soft, warm, and she smells like expensive perfume and something else—something that makes my stomach turn.

“The prolific Amari Al-Baqar,” she purrs, her voice like honey over broken glass. “You’re quite the legend. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

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