Page 58 of Craving Carla

She smiles weakly, and I realize I’ve taken too much blood. “I’ll get you some vitamins,” I tell her, remembering the supplements in my bag. “And some water?—”

“Amari Al-Baqar,” she interrupts, her voice faint but steady. “My sweet vampire. I’ll never forget this. I feel... special. I feel loved.”

Then her eyes close, and she goes limp in my arms. I adjust her on the bed, pulling back the covers and tucking her in before sliding in beside her. I pull her against me, holding her close, kissing her hair as she sleeps. Her heartbeat is steady and strong—I didn’t take too much, just enough to make her drowsy.

I listen to that heartbeat, wishing desperately that my own would match it. What I wouldn’t give to have Carla as my true mate. To have the right to claim her fully under Fate’s laws. I look up at the ceiling, a thousand memories flooding through me—Granada burning as I watched helplessly, centuries of wandering alone, countless women whose names I can’t even remember.

And now, Carla. Beautiful, fierce, stubborn Carla with her children and her freckles and her peach scent.

I find myself doing something I’ve never done before. I pray.

“Mother Fate,” I whisper into the darkness, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. “I know I’ve done nothing to deserve this. I’ve been selfish, arrogant, cruel. But I’m begging you. Please give me this woman. I’ll change. I’ll be worthy of her. I’ll accept Carla and her children as my own. I’ll be the man she needs.”

My voice breaks on the words, centuries of loneliness and emptiness pouring out of me. “Please,” I whisper. “I need her. I’m falling for her.”

I pull Carla tighter against me, kissing her once more before closing my eyes and allowing sleep to claim me.

Hours later,I wake to a sudden ache in my chest. It jolts me awake, and I sit up in bed, my hand gripping my sternum. I look over at Carla, who’s sleeping peacefully on her stomach, her cheek pressed against the pillow, a small trail of drool escaping from the corner of her mouth. She looks innocent, vulnerable—nothing like the fierce deputy who first caught my eye.

In sleep, her guard is completely down. I can see the softness that she hides beneath her strength, the tenderness she buries under layers of protective armor. This is the Carla that only her children get to see—the loving, vulnerable heart of her that makes them so fiercely protective. Seeing her like this makes me want to tear apart anyone who’s ever made her feel unwanted or unworthy.

Another jolt of pain hits me, so intense that it knocks me out of bed. I fall to my knees, gasping, one hand clutching my chest. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out from inside me. The pain is excruciating, reminiscent of my transformation when Damon turned me—that horrible moment when my heart stopped beating, when my human life ended and my vampire existence began.

Except this feels like the reverse. Instead of stopping, something inside me is struggling to start.

I moan and choke, clawing at my chest as a faint flutter begins. It’s like the wings of a dying bird, weak and sporadicat first, then stronger. Thump. Thump. Thump. The beats come faster, creating a rhythm I haven’t felt in over a thousand years.

The memory of Granada flashes through my mind—watching my civilization burn, feeling powerless to stop it. I remember standing on that hillside with Damon, his coin flipping endlessly as I fought the urge to intervene. I remember the scholars being executed in the streets, the libraries burning, eight centuries of knowledge and progress turned to ash in a single night.

In that moment of devastation, I thought I’d lost everything. My people, my culture, my purpose. The emptiness that opened inside me that night has been my constant companion for over a thousand years. I’ve tried to fill it with blood, with sex, with power, with wealth—nothing worked.

Until now. Until Carla.

That void is closing, healing, filling with something I’d forgotten existed: hope. The joy flooding through me now as my heart awakens eclipses even the grief of Granada.

The pain lasts for several minutes, eventually subsiding to a dull ache. I lie on my back, steadying my breathing, my mind and body coming to terms with what’s happened. My heart has awakened. Fate answered my prayer.

I sit up, listening to the steady rhythm within me, glancing over at Carla, who’s slept through my agony. She moans and turns to her side, still deep in slumber. My heart beats for her, calm and unwavering—a beautiful rhythm.

I can’t stop staring at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreams. She’s mine now. Truly mine. Fated to me as I am to her. The possessiveness I felt before was nothing compared to what surges through me now. It’s primitive, absolute, all-consuming.

I go to my duffle bag and pull out a shirt, boxers, and sweatpants—my lounging clothes for when I’m not in my suits. Once dressed, I stand at Carla’s side of the bed, the feralintensity of my feelings almost overwhelming. I stuff my hands in the sweatpants pockets, needing to move, to process, to breathe.

I walk out of the room, heading down the stairs and out of the cabin into the cool night air. I cross the clearing and step into the forest, and immediately, Carla’s children reveal themselves from hiding. They crawl down trees and from branches, surrounding me in a circle of many-legged devotion. Tofi approaches first, her burgundy body barely visible in the darkness.

The images they send me now are different from before—more detailed, more vibrant. I see Carla as they see her: feeding them, protecting them, singing to them softly when she thinks no one is listening. I see her crying alone in the dark after the rejection from other supernaturals, trying to hide her pain from her children but unable to mask her scent. I see her fierce protectiveness when humans threatened them, her joy when Moria found her mate, her deep loneliness when she thought she’d always be alone.

They show me Carla’s strength, her vulnerability, her love. Through their eyes, I see the true heart of the woman I’ve claimed, and my own newly awakened heart swells with pride and possessiveness.

I grin and place my hand gently on her head, leaning down to kiss her fangs—each of them large and long. Looking around at the massive spiders, I flash my fangs when they send me images that spell out the word “Daddy.”

Tofi’s multiple eyes shine with intelligence as she sends me more images—Carla’s smile when she talks about me, the way her scent changes when I’m near. I see the exact moment Carla began to trust me, to want me, to need me—a fleeting expression that crossed her face when I brought roses to her porch, a softening in her eyes that her children noticed even if she didn’t.

“Yes, children,” I say warmly, still petting Tofi. “Daddy’s home.”

Suddenly, I clutch my throat, falling to my knees as a burning thirst overtakes me. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in centuries—the newborn thirst, insatiable and maddening. I groan from the intensity of it, memories flooding back of my early vampire days when I fed on an entire brothel full of men and women, draining them all dry and still craving more.

I stand up, still clutching my throat, and look down at my children. Then I look through the trees, seeing glimpses of the bridge lights with my vampire vision. The radical bar is just beyond that bridge, filled with humans who’ve threatened my new family. The perfect hunting ground.

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