Page 52 of Craving Carla

“Carla, no one’s beating you up about this,” Damon says, and I snort. Carla looks up at me, her eyes full of shame.

“I...I think I’m going to go back into the shadows,” she murmurs, so quietly that without vampire hearing, we might have missed it.

“No, Carla...” Damon starts, but I grab her wrist and pull her against me. She looks up at me with those soft, innocent green eyes. She looks so worn down. I want to get her cleaned up and put her to bed, just hold her for the rest of the night. She needs to feel loved, wanted, and I want to be the one to provide that.

“I’ve got it, Damon,” I say, pulling her close. My suit is covered in blood, now drying and sticky, but she clings to me anyway. The warmth of her body, the trust she’s giving me right now when I truly don’t deserve it, means everything.

Her scent—that sweet, peachy aroma—is partially masked by Ackley’s blood, but it’s still there, still pulling me in like a siren’s call. I want to wash every trace of this night from her skin, erase the memory of his fists against her face, replace it all with something better, something worth remembering.

Damon smiles when he notices Carla relax against me, and he takes a step back, adjusting his suit.

“Let’s regroup at the station in a couple of days. I’m going to alert the king and queen about what’s happened. We need to come up with a plan. Now that Alexis has Carla’s blood, I’m sure they’re going to try to ramp up their efforts to infiltrate?—”

“The first thing you need to do is fire anyone on the island that shows even a hint of suspicion in their scent,” I interrupt. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll make sure there’s extra security at the border. I’ll start implementing those drones and AI systems I discussed—set up that sensor network around the perimeter.”

Damon smiles and nods. I wrap a protective arm around Carla, keeping her close.

“And don’t worry about Carla. She’s not leaving my side.”

Damon nods, and Carla looks up at me like she wants to say something snarky, but she’s too tired to argue.

“See you both in a couple of days,” Damon says, and with that, he vanishes in a flash with his vampire speed, probably eager to get back to his fated mate.

When this is over, I’ll need to make more of an effort to meet his woman. Damon’s glow, the way his heart beats steadily—I envy it. I look down at Carla, realizing I need to be softer with her. She’s ready to give up on everything, and I can’t let her do that.

Carla breaks away from me and starts heading into the forest, leading the way to her cabin. She looks back at me from time to time, quiet as I keep pace with her, remaining a few steps behind. I can feel her children itching to come out of the shadows, eager to comfort their mother.

Their eyes peek out from time to time in the darkness. I smile at that—seeing how warm they are with their mother does something to me. I wish I could carry her, but I know she’d fight me the entire way.

The path to her cabin winds through the woods, the branches overhead casting shifting shadows. Despite all she’s been through tonight, she moves with a quiet dignity, her back straight, her chin up. Even covered in blood, even with her heart broken, she carries herself like royalty. This woman is something else—a queen without a crown, a goddess without worshippers. Except for her children. And now me.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, Carla finally breaks. She puts a hand to her mouth, crouches down on the porch stairs, kicks off her shoes, and just lets go. I stop a few feet away and let her cry, but fuck—I just want to hold her, absorb her pain. I know how much this date meant to her, how badly she fought for this moment, only to find out she was being used. I want to kill Ackley all over again.

Her sobs tear through me like knives, each one a physical pain I can’t ignore. I’ve heard the cries of thousands over thecenturies—victims, lovers, enemies—but hers cut deeper than any I can remember. Something about her vulnerability, about this moment of raw despair, makes me want to destroy anything that’s ever caused her pain.

But I’m not done with my bloodlust. I plan to take down that radical bar before it’s all over, feeding on anyone stupid enough to be inside when I enter.

Her children slowly step from the shadows, surrounding her. Tofi is there, her burgundy body faintly visible, along with Niko and his intricate patterns. I smile when I finally see Moria and Kemnebi crawling around me, joining the others to comfort Carla. They huddle over her, trying to absorb her pain the same way I want to.

“I’m so stupid. I—I’m sorry, babies. I just wanted to feel. I wanted it so bad.” My dead heart breaks for her. I try to take a step forward, but they look up and hiss at me—even Kemnebi does it, warning me to keep my distance. I smile and step back, letting them take care of her. Moria climbs onto her chest, and Carla wraps her arms around her, sobbing uncontrollably.

I don’t know how long we’re out here—minutes, hours—but I wait patiently. Seeing her hurting is killing me.

“Oh, Moria, you look so happy. You’re glowing,” Carla finally says when she pulls back. Moria climbs down and joins Kemnebi’s side. It looks like Moria’s grown over the past couple of days. Carla giggles through her sobs, wiping her tear-stained face.

“Who did you catch?” she asks, then giggles again. I look to Moria and Kemnebi, and he starts to send me images of their hunt for lost souls stuck in limbo. I know Kemnebi feeds on rodents and other pests, but whenever he finds a lost soul, it’s like a delicacy, and he grows every time he catches one. Looking at Tofi and Niko’s size, along with some of the others, I start to piece together why some are bigger than others.

Kemnebi sends me images of how he and Moria have been bonding, mating, being alone. He’s been teaching his mate how to hunt lost souls in limbo, catching one for her and letting her feed on it. I smile at him. I look up to Tofi, who’s got her eyes on me, sending me images of taking care of Carla—bathing her, putting her to bed, holding her until she falls asleep. I nod, bowing my head to her children, watching as they retreat into the shadows.

Carla wipes her face and sniffles, then stands and holds out her hand for her tote bag.

I laugh lightly at that. Is she serious right now? She really believes I’m going to hand her the tote bag and just let her go into her cabin and sulk?

Now she’s insulting me. I narrow my eyes at her, then walk past her, purposely bumping her shoulder as I take the steps up to her cabin porch and approach her door, turning the knob and stepping inside. I snicker when I hear her scoff and storm up the steps, following me inside.

Her cabin is nice, a cozy space. I make a mental note of that, so I know how she’ll like her home when I take her out of here. She’s not going back into the shadows, and I’m not leaving without her. She’s coming with me. She’s staying with me.

The cabin reflects her personality—practical but with touches of beauty. Handmade quilts draped over simple furniture, dried flowers hanging from ceiling beams, small treasures collected and displayed with care. A home built with love and attention, not just a place to exist. This isn’t just shelter; it’s her sanctuary, her first real home after centuries in the shadows.

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