Page 34 of Craving Carla

Amari flashes that insufferable grin at Damon, like they’re sharing some inside joke at my expense. Melissa practically bows to Damon before scurrying from behind the counter. She grabs a long hook to reach the display dress that’s deliberately hung out of reach.

Amari approaches the counter, picks up my cash, and hands it back to me. His fingers brush against mine, cool against my skin.

“I’ve got it,” he says, that smug smile still plastered on his face.

Melissa returns to the counter within minutes. My eyes drink in the dress hungrily. I run my fingertips over the material while Melissa grabs tissue paper and a bag to package it. The fabric feels expensive—smooth and heavy in a way cheap clothes neverdo. For a moment, I let myself imagine how it will feel against my skin when I put it on. Will it make me look desirable? Will Ackley think I’m beautiful?

“Shoes,” I murmur, tapping my finger against my bottom lip. “I need to get shoes.”

“It’s a lovely dress. Are you going somewhere?” Amari asks, pulling out his wallet. His tone is casual, but there’s something sharp underneath.

I glance at Damon, who meets my glare with one of his own. Thanks a lot.

“She has a date with a human,” Damon offers, like he’s sharing the weather forecast.

Amari’s body goes rigid beside me. His hand freezes halfway to his pocket. “A date?” The disbelief in his voice is unmistakable.

He scoffs, then chuckles, his face scrunching up like I just told him pigs can fly. The reaction lights a fire in my gut.

“Wow, you’re making it so obvious that you can’t believe someone would want to date me,” I mutter, heat rising to my cheeks.

His eyes narrow at me. “With whom?” The question has the same overprotective tone Damon uses when he’s playing big brother.

“His name is Ackley, he works at?—”

“Midnight Moon,” Amari finishes, cutting me off. “Yeah, the spider guy. I know him.”

My blood runs cold. How does he know Ackley? When did they meet? The thought of them talking about me—of Amari possibly saying things to make Ackley reconsider our date—makes my stomach twist.

I roll my eyes and turn back to the counter. “No, don’t use his card. I brought my own money. I’ll pay for it.”

Amari moves closer, his chest nearly pressed against my back as he reaches around me to push his card forward. “No, I said, I’ve got it.”

Melissa’s eyes bounce between us before she takes his card instead of my cash. Of course she would.

Fuck the shoes. I’ll come back for them later when I’m alone. I snatch the bag from the counter and hold out the cash to Amari, my hand shaking slightly with frustration.

“Take the money. You aren’t paying for my dress.”

Amari tucks his card and receipt into his wallet, then adjusts his suit jacket with a smooth pull at the cuffs. He steps toward me, closing the distance I tried to create.

“Oh no, Carla. It was my pleasure,” he says, that self-assured grin making my skin crawl. He leans closer, his lips near my ear. “That looks like a fuck-me dress. I see it on women all the time.”

“Like the woman you fucked last night when you fed?” I snap back, my voice sickly sweet. I know what vampires do at Midnight Moon. I’m not stupid. And if he met Ackley there last night, that’s exactly what he was doing.

And why do I even care?

He grins at me, his golden eyes flashing. Amari leans in again, his cool breath ghosting across my skin as he whispers, “If you want to get fucked for the first time, why not give it to someone worthy, not just throw your pussy at the first man that shows you interest.”

“Enough, Amari!” Damon barks from behind us, but it’s too late.

Rage explodes inside me like a supernova. My hand moves before my brain can stop it, flying through the air and connecting with his face. The slap cracks through the retail store like a gunshot, silencing every conversation.

Amari’s head jerks to the side with the impact. He brings his palm to his cheek, but instead of anger, he laughs—a low, deep chuckle that suggests he enjoyed it.

“You are a fucking asshole!” I snarl, clutching my bag to my chest and storming out of the store, desperate to get away from him, from all of them.

My mind spins as I push through shoppers on the sidewalk. Why am I letting this vampire get to me? I’ve dealt with prejudice and whispers and rejection my entire existence. I’ve been called everything from freak to monster. But somehow, Amari’s words cut deeper than any of that. His mockery of my date, of my worth—it stings in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

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