Page 26 of Craving Carla

Carla

There’s something behind him.

I catch sight of a leg—just one—peeking out from behind Amari’s expensive Italian leather shoes. My lips curve into a knowing grin as I realize what it is. If I move too quickly, Amari might freak out, so I stay put, watching as more legs slowly stretch out from behind him.

“What are you smiling about?” Amari asks, his eyes studying me with curiosity. “Don’t get me wrong, you have beauty like no other, but I’d like to know what sparks your interest.”

I roll my eyes. “Cut the Casanova bullshit.”

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm, and I step forward cautiously. This is one of my children—lost for centuries. Looking at the distinctive markings and size, I realize this must be Moria’s mate.

He looks just like her, only larger, his body a perfect obsidian black with the same constellation-like patterns I’ve seen on Moria’s abdomen. My heart hammers as I hold my hand up to Amari, signaling for him to stay put.

“There’s something behind you, and I don’t want you to get alarmed,” I tell him. I step closer, slowly, then reach around Amari to grab him, but suddenly, Amari roughly catches my wrist, yanking it back. His grip is firm, painful.

“I may be sweet on you, Carla, but don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.” He steps closer, his face just inches from mine. “I know the laws about how women are treated here on Wintermoon, but let me make something clear. I’m a guest here, not a citizen. If you hurt my friend—” His grip on my wrist grows firmer, and I wince, struggling to pull away. He leans in, his cool breath ghosting over my skin. A sharp grin spreads across his face, white fangs dangerously close. “I’ll hurt you.”

I gasp at his words, my stomach dropping.

“You’ve made your point, Amari. Now let me go. You’re hurting me,” I say, not bothering to hide the fear in my voice.

He releases my wrist, and I immediately step back, tears welling in my eyes. But I don’t let them fall—oh no, I refuse to give this asshole the satisfaction. I rub my wrist where his fingers have left red marks against my caramel skin. Amari steps back, and there he is, behind him.

“This is my little friend,” Amari says with a small smile. “He likes to show up unexpectedly. Don’t worry, he’s harmless—won’t hurt you. He’s just tagging along with me because he refuses to stay cooped up in the cabin on the Community Lands.”

I smile down at the massive arachnid. “He’s beautiful,” I say, still holding my sore wrist.

I lock eyes with the creature—his body the size of a dinner plate, black as midnight with bristly hairs covering his form. Eight eyes fix on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. I see recognition in those eyes, and I can’t help the tears of joy that stream down my cheeks.

I sniffle. Fate answered my prayer. I prayed for me or Moria, and she chose to answer for her.

“Hi,” I say, dropping to my knees on the forest floor, not caring about the dirt getting on my jeans. “I know your mate. Her name is Moria.”

Amari looks between me and his little friend with a strange expression, his golden eyes narrowing. The spider sends me images—me as a little girl, surrounded by spiderlings as they hatched in the forest. I remember that night so clearly. The full moon watched from above. Lost, because my adoptive parents disowned me once they discovered I was a witch, I walked all night in the cold, unsure if I would survive until morning. I found a cave and made it my home, unaware of the magical sac inside. It hatched, and just like that, my babies were born. They surrounded me, but I hadn’t realized one had wandered off.

He crawls toward me now and leaps into my arms, clinging the same way Moria always does—like a living brooch against me. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the familiar weight, the gentle pulsing of life beneath the bristly exterior.

“Do you have a name? Is it just Little Friend?” I ask.

He responds the way all my children do—by sending images directly into my mind. It’s easy for me to interpret; I’ve played this game of charades with them for as long as I can remember. The images clearly convey “little friend.” So, that’s his name. But that won’t do. I’ll give him a proper name once I unite him with Moria.

“You’re familiar with this creature?” Amari asks, stuffing one hand in his suit pants pocket, his expression somewhere between fascination and disbelief.

I glare up at him. “This is one of my children, asshole.”

He grins down at me, his perfect white teeth flashing. “You’re the little girl he kept sending me images of. I could never make out your face—he’d only show me your feet.”

Amari extends his hand like he’s offering to help me up. I slap it away, and he laughs, the sound ringing through the trees.I rise to my feet on my own, brushing dirt from my knees. His little friend stays clinging to me, and I feel everything—all his emotions washing over me like waves. Happy, exhausted, anxious, worried he’ll lose me again.

“I’m not going anywhere, little friend. Mommy’s here,” I assure him, stroking his back gently.

“There are more of them?” Amari asks, his voice pitched low with genuine curiosity.

I keep my head down as I answer. “Yes.” Then, I look up at him with cold eyes. “I’m the horror story of Wintermoon—The Mother of Spiders. Go on, say what you really want. Call me a freak.”

Amari’s eyes just soften, and he pulls his hand from his pocket, letting both arms fall at his sides.

“No, Carla,” he says, his voice dropping to a gentle tone that catches me off guard. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all. I was thinking how magnificent you are.”

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