Page 46 of Craving Carla

“She’s not a conquest to me, Damon. I—I can’t explain it. It’s something else. Something more.” I say and Damon raises an eyebrow at me.

“Something more?” He smirks, but before I can say anything back, we’re both caught off guard by the expensive Range Rover that pulls up in front of this small town diner, looking completely out of place. And when I catch the scent of who it is, I hold my hand up to Damon, walking toward the edge of the roof, looking down, my eyes narrowing when I see who cuts off the engine and climbs out of the SUV.

Alexis Blackburn.

She’s got an expensive tote bag clutched over her shoulder, and a larger man in a suit climbs out of the truck, following her into the diner. Her curves are practically painted into her designer dress, the fabric clinging to her full ass that she puts on display with each swaying step. But unlike Carla’s natural, earthy beauty, there’s something manufactured about Alexis—like a beautiful rose crossbred with toxic nightshade. A pretty face with a fat ass, and that’s all she’s got going for her. That, andthe stench of radical hatred that seems to permeate her designer perfume.

“It’s a Blackburn,” Damon realizes, then he looks to me. I glare at him.

“Did you let her come on this date on purpose?” I ask, glaring at him. He adjusts his suit and slicks his hair back, not answering.

“You motherfucker. You let her come here knowing she would be bait.” I hiss at him. At this point, I’m ready to go down there myself and collect my woman.

Yes, my fucking woman.

“The night Verde and Petra were killed, we went to the bridge to collect their bodies, but they were gone. The radicals took them. I think they’re using their blood to help Ackley, and the others mask their scents,” Damon explains, watching Alexis and what appears to be her guard walk into the diner.

“That doesn’t explain how they got them in the first place,” I argue. Damon keeps his eyes on the building.

“They’ve been testing with simple arachnids. I think they got far enough to catch Carla and her children off guard, but they weren’t strong enough to capture one. Which is why I think those men sacrificed their lives for the cause. They knew they wouldn’t live after killing two of them.”

Damon’s gaze is distant, like he’s piecing together a puzzle with a thousand years of similar patterns to reference. “I couldn’t confirm anything until you brought up that you caught Ackley in a radical bar. He’s been careful for me not to catch him, but slipped up this time. He’s being reckless because he knew he had Carla right where he wanted her.”

My fists clench at my sides, the fabric of my suit pulling taut.

“They want Carla, and they know her children will follow her wherever she goes,” Damon continues. “Carla’s been having a very difficult time in Wintermoon. Hated, mistreated, and she’sdone nothing to the humans and supernaturals on Wintermoon for it.”

The mental image of Carla walking through Wintermoon, eyes downcast as supernaturals step off the sidewalk to avoid her, the whispers following her like shadows—it makes my dead heart ache. I’ve seen this pattern before, watched it play out with my own people. The same crushing prejudice, just different characters.

“Ackley’s been that listening ear,” Damon says. “That constant that’s always been around when no one is listening to her. Kade’s not paying attention, and neither is Leah. King Amir and Queen Anora are too busy basking in their love for their baby to really invest in what’s going on here. But I’ve been watching. I’ve always been watching. I see the game Ackley’s been playing. The way she always smiles when she feels like giving up.”

I look at the building, realizing what they’re doing. They’re playing with Carla’s head, trying to get her to turn her back on Wintermoon. And it’s not like anyone on the land has given her a reason not to. It’s making sense now, why Damon didn’t fight this date. It’s what Ackley wanted—it would have only pushed her further to Ackley if Damon had tried to forbid it. I look to Damon, my dead heart aching for Carla, to show her that she is wanted—and needed.

“What do we do now?” I ask him. Damon pulls out his coin from his pocket and starts to flip it, twirling it through his fingers.

“We wait.” I glare at him again.

“You want us to wait and see if she’s going to betray us—betray Wintermoon? What the fuck, Damon?” He shrugs.

“I have faith in Fate, and I also have faith in Carla. She’s not going to turn on us.”

“But yet she has every reason to,” I snap back. I turn away and head for the roof door. I’m going to go get her myself, but Damon’s at the door before I reach it, using his vampire speed.

“Damon...” I say, warning him. I just want to get her out of there.

“Amari, I know this is difficult for you, having to watch this, after you’ve done so much watching things fall apart,” he says, his voice softening. “You’ve watched your civilization fall, and you’ve watched melanated people suffer under chattel slavery, and now you are watching white supremacy and idealized radical behavior destroy the world.”

His words hit something raw inside me. The memories of Granada burning, the bodies swinging from trees in Alabama, the systematic destruction of Black lives through every institution America ever built—it all comes rushing back.

“I know you are tired of watching,” Damon continues, placing his hand on my shoulder. I look at it, angrily shaking him off. “I’m asking you to have faith in Fate. And trust that Carla will make the right decision.”

“I don’t want to see her hurt, Damon. You’re asking me to let them hurt her.” He grins at me.

“No, Amari. I’m asking you to give her the right to choose, and trust that she’ll make the right decision.”

I back away and walk back over to the edge of the roof, looking down at the diner. Damon follows, standing beside me.

“Knowing that Ackley spent all this time to get to know her, only to break her is going to destroy her.” Damon looks to me softly.

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