Page 18 of Craving Carla

I watch her straighten her posture, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin slightly, establishing her presence as someone not to be fucked with. It only makes me want to do exactly that—fuck her until she’s screaming my name.

Damon looks back at her and grins, then holds his hand out, gesturing toward her.

“Amari, this is Carla, the deputy of Wintermoon. She along with her children were guarding the border until we ran into some issues with the radicals,” Damon explains, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Children? I can sense she’s a witch right away. But I don’t see a claim mark on her, nor do I smell dark magic. More puzzling, I don’t smell the fated scent on her at all. That’s odd—I’ve never run into a supernatural without the fated scent, with the exception of witches who’ve fallen into the clutches of dark magic. But it’s either the fated scent or dark magic. This beautiful woman has neither. Something isn’t right.

I look to Damon who shares a knowing look with me; we seem to have the same question. Damn, a woman like this, the epitome of magnificence unfated? Mother Fate, this is, in fact, unfair.

I feel like a predator in this moment. I want to hunt her, own her, do some of the most obscene things to her. I clear my throat again as she approaches me, but my attention quickly shifts the moment Kade comes into view.

This one, I cannot fucking stand.

The motherly figure. We never got along, and when I finally started a coven of my own, she was happy to never see me again. She looks exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her—powerful, blonde hair immaculately kept, blue eyes that miss nothing. The kind of vampire that tries to bring order to our chaotic nature.

“You called on Amari, why?” Kade grumbles, glaring at Damon. He grins at her, then stuffs his hands in his suit pockets. I look over his attire, such an upgrade from our times during companionship. I turn to face him and start adjusting his tie.

“Nice suit,” I compliment, and he grins at me, pulling his hands out of his pockets, adjusting his jacket.

“I’ve learned from the best,” he says to me with a wink.

I take a moment to absorb this. Damon has always been practical, functional in his approach to clothing and appearance. Seeing him in this tailored suit, clearly inspired by my own aesthetic, hits me with an unexpected sense of pride. My sire, finally embracing the finer things after all these centuries.

I turn and look to Kade, grinning as she stands next to the beauty.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” I say, smiling, flashing my fangs. She looks super annoyed, her posture stiffening as if my mere presence contaminates her precious sanctuary.

“Old friend?” She scoffs, laughing in annoyance, the sound brittle and false. “More like old pain in my ass.”

The fluorescent lights of the station buzz overhead, painting everyone in an unflattering glow except for Carla. Even in this harsh lighting, her skin seems lit from within. Some women just have that quality—a natural radiance that no environment can diminish.

Carla looks over at Kade, then back to me, her gaze assessing, calculating. The way she studies me reminds me of a predatorsizing up competition—not prey. Interesting. I bow my head at her, then hold out my hand in greeting.

“Carla,” she says, introducing herself formally. “Deputy of Wintermoon.” Her voice holds a hint of something I can’t quite place—not an accent, but a cadence that suggests centuries of isolation.

“It is a pleasure, Carla,” I say, and she gulps nervously, the subtle movement of her throat drawing my attention. I catch another whiff of her scent, and my dick nearly stiffens in my pants.

Peaches. Fucking peaches, my favorite scent on a woman. But this time it seems more potent, more intoxicating than I’ve ever experienced. If my heart would just quicken for this woman, I’d drop to my knees and worship her.

I’m in a state of lust for this woman, but there’s something else—beneath the surface that I can’t explain. A pull, not as strong as a fated bond should be, but something... different. Something I’ve never felt before in over a millennium of existence.

She hesitates for a moment but eventually gives in, placing her hand in mine. Her skin is surprisingly soft, warm against my cooler touch. She’s expecting a casual handshake, but I surprise her, pulling her hand to my lips and gently kissing the back of it. The contact sends a jolt through me that I wasn’t prepared for.

She snatches it back from me and lets her hand fall at her side, but I can smell it on her. She’s attracted to me—the subtle shift in her scent gives her away. The sharp intake of breath, the dilation of her pupils for just a fraction of a second. Her body betrays what her attitude tries to hide.

Good.

Because all I can think about right now is how her ass will spread over my face while I lick and suck on her pussy. I have never craved a woman like this—the way I’m craving Carla.

Right now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, yet she seems disinterested, wiping the back of her hand on her jeans as if to erase my touch. Disinterested with me? I nearly laugh at that. Carla looks like a woman that makes a man work. But to confirm this, I’ll need to get to know her better.

The sheriff’s station is small but functional, the kind of space that speaks of practicality over aesthetics. A few desks, some filing cabinets, a coffee station in the corner with a half-empty pot. Nothing about it impresses me, but I suppose it serves its purpose for a tourist area. The real action must happen at the border.

“I was hoping your... little friend would be accompanying you,” Damon says, and I look over at him. His green eyes hold a knowing look that makes me wonder what he’s playing at.

Kade doesn’t know about him, nor does King Amir. Only Damon. King Amir was in his slumber when I found him on a tree the night my people fell. Kade looks to me with narrowed eyes, and Carla seems confused, her brow furrowing slightly.

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