Page 36 of Craving Carla

I run a hand over my beard, feeling the tension in my jaw. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I’m not particularly pleased with how you spoke to Carla in the market,” Damon says, his voice cooling several degrees. “You made her feel cheap, like she’s less worthy of love.”

The words hit me hard, and I lower my gaze to the floor, guilt flooding through me. “I don’t know what came over me,” I confess. “I saw how excited she was for that dress, and it just... angered me that she bought it to impress another man.”

Damon twirls the coin between his fingers. “Actually, you bought it. And what do you care?”

I scratch my beard, frustration mounting as I search for an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like an obsessive asshole. “I don’t know. None of what I’m feeling makes any sense at all.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Damon asks, sliding the coin across his knuckles in a practiced gesture.

“I’m going to make it up to her,” I say firmly. “Apologize to her properly.”

Damon chuckles, the sound laced with skepticism. “Good luck with that.” He leans back in his chair. “How did your assessment go yesterday?”

I let out a long breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “Things have changed now that I know about her children and what happened to two of them. I’ve been thinking about installing a network of sensors around the perimeter that could detect magical and physical intrusions. Submersible drones for the waters—silent propulsion, equipped with sensors that can differentiate between shifter, witch, vampire, and human energies.”

I pause, my mind already racing through the technical specifications. “But I need more time to assess things properly. Iwant to develop modules that can be enhanced by witch magic, specifically tailored to work with her children.”

Damon stands up from his desk and walks around, coming face to face with me. “You can take all the time you need.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for your help, Amari.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice dropping lower. “Why didn’t you let me know that she and her children were here, that my little friend—Kemnebi—wasn’t all alone?”

Damon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Kemnebi? When did you name your little friend?”

“I didn’t,” I explain, my voice softening at the memory. “Carla did. She said it means ‘one who was once lost’ in Egyptian. Since I found him in Granada when my people—the Moors still had influence there...” I trail off, feeling strangely vulnerable sharing this.

Damon smirks at that, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“What?” I snap, annoyed with his cryptic behavior. “If you know something, just come out and say it.”

Damon’s expression hardens. “I was protecting Carla. I know just how much of a womanizer you are.”

I frown at that, but I can’t argue. It’s true.

“I wanted you focused on the job,” Damon continues. “Protecting the borders of Wintermoon and Carla’s children, not just coming here so you could fuck her.”

I want to argue, but the words stick in my throat. Because Damon’s right—I do want to fuck her. It’s all I can think about. But it’s different this time. I don’t know how to explain it without coming off like an even bigger asshole than I’ve already been.

When I think about Carla, it’s not just about getting between her thighs, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that. I think about making her laugh, about being the reason she smiles. I think about waking up next to her, watching her sleep, counting those adorable freckles across her nose. I think about protectingher, not because she needs protection—she’s clearly capable—but because she deserves someone who puts her safety above their own.

These thoughts terrify me. In over a thousand years, I’ve never wanted to stick around after fucking a woman. I’ve never cared about their happiness beyond the temporary pleasure I could give them. But with Carla, I want more. I want everything. And I have no idea what to do with that realization.

“Carla is a daughter of Wintermoon,” Damon says, his voice softening. “And she’s shunned a lot here for who she is, by her own people. She’s a Blackwood witch, teetering on the edge of turning back to the shadows. I can see it in her eyes every day. She fights for acceptance that seems to always be just out of reach.”

He gives me a knowing look. “It’s not unlike your hatred for white supremacy—the madness is always the same, just different characters.”

His fingers press on my shoulder. “Carla may not know it, but she holds a special place in my heart, like a sister.” His eyes harden. “Which is why you’re going to stay away from her.”

I glare at him as he pulls out his coin and flips it again.

“That’s bullshit,” I snap. “You know that Ackley guy working on the tourist island is hiding something. It’s stupid to let her date him.”

Damon catches his coin without looking at it. “Do you truly know what it feels like to be alone, Amari? To be hated by everyone, forced into the shadows?” I shake my head, irritated because he already knew my answer. “That has been Carla’s existence, and she always gives and never gets anything back in return. Her love is thankless, and she deserves more respect than she gets.”

He takes a step closer to me. “Carla wants to be happy, to just feel that happiness even if it’s fleeting. Who am I to take that from her?” His voice hardens.

His words land like body blows. “I’m truly sorry for how I’ve treated Carla since I’ve been here,” I say, meaning every word. “Truly sorry.”

---