Page 5 of Craving Carla

I scoff so hard I nearly choke. “I don’t like anyone, Damon. No one here likes my children except Amir. Anora tolerates them, but she’s not exactly sending Christmas cards.”

At the mention of hiding, Moria’s legs shift restlessly, and I clap my hands gently. “Time to go back into the shadows, sweetheart.”

She seems bothered by my request, her multiple eyes reflecting hurt, but she obeys. With fluid grace that defies her size, Moria leaps off the desk and climbs the wall. Her large frame somehow compresses enough to squeeze through the ceiling vent, though physics suggests this should be impossible.

Damon smiles as we hear her legs skittering above us, and I glare up at the vent where I can still see the glint of her eyes in the darkness.

“She’s going through separation anxiety,” I explain. “It’ll get better eventually. Just need to give it time.”

“I don’t mind her presence,” Damon says, though he doesn’t look away from the vent. “She just needs to stay hidden from the tourists and human staff.”

He studies the ceiling thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed most, if not all, of your children seem to come in pairs.”

I shrug, the movement feeling heavier than it should. “That’s Fate’s funny way of torturing me. She paired my children but not me.”

“But not Moria?” He raises an eyebrow, still staring at the vent.

“No, not this one,” I say, feeling that familiar pang of kinship with my unpaired child. “That’s why she clings to me, I guess. We’re both alone.”

I stand, my chair rolling back with a squeak. “I’m going to patrol the area, make sure the humans are behaving themselves.”

Before I can take two steps toward the door, Damon flashes in front of me, moving with that vampire speed that still takes me by surprise. One second he’s at his desk, the next he’s blocking my path, all without disturbing so much as a paper on his desk.

“I’ll do it,” he says firmly.

I glare at him and plant my hands on my hips. “When King Amir ordered me to desk duty, I know he didn’t mean it literally.”

I glance back at the vent where Moria’s eyes glimmer, then back at Damon. “Is this because of my children?”

“No, it’s not that.” His tone softens. “You don’t use your magic well enough yet, and some of these radicals are big enough to overpower you physically.”

“My children are always nearby,” I remind him, gesturing toward the ceiling. “That’s not something I need to worry about.”

I move to push past him, but his hand shoots out to block the doorway. The gesture is gentle but immovable, like trying to move a marble statue.

I groan in frustration, wishing I could teleport like Angie or the other powerful supernaturals. I’ve tried to grasp that particular magic, but something always holds me back. It’s like there’s a barrier in my mind that I can’t break through. Angie and Anora, my Blackwood cousins, seem to be one with their magic, wielding it like extensions of their own bodies. Me? I feel like the magical equivalent of the kid who gets picked last for dodgeball.

“Look,” Damon says, his voice taking on that reasonable tone that makes me want to punch him, “give me a week. I know someone who can help with a better security system - something that can work with you while you’re at the border. But until then, you need to stay where you’re safe. Where your children are safe.”

His expression darkens. “I won’t watch you suffer through another loss.”

As much as I want to argue, I know he’s right. The memory of Verde and Petra’s death still feels raw, like a wound that won’t heal. I mourned for seven days, unable to eat or sleep, feeling their loss like phantom limbs.

“Okay, okay,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. The thought of losing another child sends a sharp pang through me. No matter how much my children believe in honorable death, no matter how much I support their convictions, I can’t handle another loss. Not yet.

“I promise you’ll like who’s coming to help,” Damon says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I roll my eyes again. “No one likes me except some human nerd who works at the hotel bar. Ackley has a love for arachnids and keeps a bunch of tarantulas as pets in his apartment on the community lands. Kade and Leah have had to counsel him about them breaking out and scaring the other tenants.”

Ackley’s a decent guy, I suppose. He doesn’t seem bothered by my children, which puts him in a very small category of people. We’ve spent some time together lately - nothing romantic, since I don’t have the fated scent that would mark me as someone’s fated mate. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to seek happiness, even if it’s not the earth-shattering, soul-deep connection everyone else gets to experience.

Though Moria acts weird around him. She doesn’t trust humans, especially ones who aren’t technically part of Wintermoon. But I figure that’s just her protective instinct kicking in.

I trudge back to my desk, defeated, and flop down in my chair with enough force to make it spin slightly. Above me, I can hear Moria moving through the ventilation system, probably trying toget back to her favorite spot so she can drop down the moment Damon leaves.

Speaking of Damon, he heads for the door, but pauses with his hand on the frame. “Make sure to take any reports that come in. Though I doubt we’ll get many at this hour.”

“There hasn’t been a report all day,” I snap. “I want to protect Wintermoon, not file paperwork.”

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