Page 17 of Craving Carla

“Don’t thank me, Carla,” she says. “And it bothers me that you feel like a burden here on Wintermoon. That changes now.” She says, and I feign a smile. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Now that that’s behind us, we can get down to business. Who the hell is supposed to be coming here to help improve the security of our borders? Damon mentioned he was an old friend, but nothing more. I’d like more info about this guy, especially since I’ll be working closely with him until the project is finished. My eyes go to Damon, who’s still pissed that I’m going on this date. I don’t give a shit.

“Can we get down to business and out of my personal life, now?” I say, glaring at Damon. He still stands firm, stepping from the wall and approaching me.

“Just because you’re going on a date with Ackley, doesn’t mean you won’t be chaperoned. One of us are going with you, either me or Kade,” he says, and my mouth falls open. Damon grins and walks over to his desk and sits down. Is he out of his mind right now? He’s really trying to piss me off. I follow him over to his desk and slam my hands down on it in frustration, but Damon seems unfazed, grabbing a folder and opening it, scanning the contents.

“I’m not some baby that needs to be looked after. I cannot believe you are pulling this shit,” I snap at him.

“Carla, I’m not going to argue with you about this. You are naive, and you don’t know how to use your magic well enough. You want to go on this date, fine. I won’t begrudge you, but what you won’t do is put yourself in jeopardy because you want to have a good time,” he says, not bothering to look at me, his green eyes trained on the folder. I want to rip his head off right now.

“Cut the big brother bullshit. This is about control, and you know it,” I say, leaning over the table. I want to claw his face right now, and it’s taking everything in me to hold back.

Suddenly, his eyes look up from the folder, focused over my shoulder, and then the door to the sheriff station chimes. I hear shoes clicking against the linoleum floor, followed by a loud, obnoxious clearing of a man’s throat. I keep my posture the same, my palms firm on Damon’s desk as I lean over to give him a piece of my mind, which I still plan on doing, but I decide to see who interrupted us.

I lift my head and look back, and when I see the man standing in the station, my eyes widen.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

And he’s staring at my ass with a smug grin.

“Damon, you’ve been holding out on me,” he says, his voice deep and smooth. “If I’d known you were keeping this kind of... view to yourself, I’d have visited sooner.”

I straighten up immediately, turning to face him fully, and holy shit. He’s tall—over six feet of pure muscle wrapped in a perfectly tailored all-black suit. His Italian leather shoes, and his charcoal jacket fits his broad shoulders like it was made for him—which it probably was.

But it’s his face that has me momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Rich chocolate skin, smooth and flawless, frames features that belong on a museum statue. Strong jawline covered with a meticulously maintained beard; full lips curved into a smile that’s equal parts arrogance and seduction. His short curls are perfectly shaped, with precise edges that speak of someone who takes pride in his appearance.

And those eyes—amber-gold that seem to glow with an internal light, marking him unmistakably as a vampire. When he grins wider, I catch the flash of fangs, confirming what I already knew.

He stands with the easy confidence of someone who’s never questioned his place in the world, someone who knows exactly how good he looks and uses it like a weapon.

Damon gets up from his desk and approaches him. “Amari, thank you for coming.”

Amari. So this is Damon’s old friend.

Amari bows his head to Damon, but Damon quickly puts his hand on Amari’s shoulder. “No, Amari. You don’t have to address me as your sire anymore. You are a leader with a coven of your own.”

I stare awkwardly at the exchange, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks when Amari’s eyes fall on me again. He’s still got that smug grin, and it kind of irritates me, even as it sends a strange heat through my body.

Amari adjusts his suit jacket and then smooths his hands over his beard. “Now, please tell me who this beautiful, sexy, voluptuous woman that stands before me is. I’d be honored to know her name.”

Did he just make a comment about my ass without outright saying it? Oh, he’s an asshole.

6

Amari

The ass on this woman, the curves, her hips, and when she sits up from Damon’s desk and looks at me... she’s magnificent—no other word describes her properly.

She’s wearing a fitted Wintermoon Sheriff t-shirt that hugs her full breasts perfectly, paired with jeans that showcase those delicious curves. I want to take a bite out of that plump ass. This is the kind of woman I’ve been hoping would make my heart quicken.

Her eyes catch me first—vibrant green, almost unnaturally bright against her smooth caramel skin. Freckles dust across her nose and cheeks, giving her face a youthful quality despite the ancient power I sense lurking beneath. Her lips are full, pouty, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top, and I immediately wonder if her pussy lips are just as fat and juicy. I ache to taste both.

Wild, dark curls frame her face, tumbling past her shoulders in a way that speaks of untamed nature. There’s something simultaneously dark yet innocent about her—a contradictionthat stirs something primal within me. She’s glaring at me like she’s about to rip my head off.

Please do. I hope she tears my ass up.

The tension in the room is undeniable, electricity crackling between us even though she clearly wants nothing to do with me. Good. I love a challenge, and over centuries, I’ve learned the sweetest fruit often requires the most effort to pluck.

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