Page 30 of Craving Carla

I don’t know her, and I’m certainly not fated to her. Her sadness bothered me. The look in her beautiful green eyes made it hard for me to leave her alone in her cabin.

I need to finish this job so I can get the fuck out of here. Wintermoon is doing things to me.

The bartender slides another glass of whiskey across the counter. He’s tall with long twists pinned up loosely at the back of his head, thick-rimmed glasses sitting slightly crooked on hisface, light brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and a beard trimmed but still with that slightly messy academic look. His skin tone is a rich, warm brown, a few shades lighter than mine.

The nightclub is busy tonight—more women than men, all of them dressed in clothes that leave nothing to the imagination, nearly screaming they want to get either fucked hard or bitten, or both. The lights pulse in sync with the booming bass from the DJ booth. Bodies press against each other on the dance floor, sweat-slicked skin glowing under the blue and purple strobes. The air is thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and arousal—normally a combination that would have my dick standing at attention, ready to claim the juiciest ass in the room.

I snatch up the whiskey and throw it back in one swallow, then slam the glass down on the counter. The bartender is still hovering, and I look up at him with annoyance, wondering why the fuck he’s still sticking around.

“It’s not often we see a vampire drink like this,” he says, his eyes studying me curiously. “Don’t you have... another preference?”

I know what he’s talking about. I grin as I’m finally feeling numb from the alcohol, the stimulation I somehow suddenly need just to feed. The way Carla’s consuming my thoughts is unnerving. Being away from her, here on the tourist island, is driving me nuts.

“I needed something to get the edge off,” I reply, then pause. My eyes narrow when I catch a whiff of the bartender’s scent. He smells different from the typical humans. I can catch something else, and jealousy hits me like a freight train when I identify it.

Arachnids.

This motherfucker likes spiders. It’s obvious. I can smell them all over him, almost like a second skin. It masks his scent in a strange way, almost as if he’s hiding something.

“You like arachnids?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He grins. “I do, actually. I take it you picked that up in my scent.”

I nod, sitting upright. I’m a bit tipsy, but also alert.

“Most vampires don’t catch it,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on me. They’re fearless, as if we’re having some type of standoff in a chess game. Chess is all about mind play, outsmarting your opponent.

“I’m familiar with arachnids,” I say, my brow furrowing.

He grins at me. “That’s a rarity these days. You must be new to town. I’m Ackley, by the way.” He extends his hand to me. “I’ve only met one supernatural who’s fond of them.”

I don’t shake his fucking hand. He’s talking about Carla.

MyCarla.

My Carla? What the fuck am I talking about? She’s not mine. But for some reason, I want her to be. I leave him hanging, and he chuckles, finally pulling his hand back.

“Not the biggest fan of humans, huh?” he says.

I grin at him. “I don’t make friendly with the food.”

Ackley laughs at that. “Yeah, but you’ll fuck it.”

I grin at his comeback, and that’s when I finally extend my hand to him in greeting. Ackley looks at me for a moment, then grins and shakes my hand.

“Amari Al-Baqar, Coven Leader of Medina Shadow.”

“Welcome to Wintermoon,” he says, pulling his hand back and grabbing my empty glass.

“I’m just a guest. I’m not staying,” I tell him. But is it true? Can I leave without my little friend—Kemnebi? I grin at the name Carla gave him. It’s fitting, but how sweet that she listened to me, and the name came from our companionship. I want to see him again before I leave, give him my final goodbye.

I feel lost already without him. He helped me get through some of the darkest times. Always flashing images of hope in mymind that I wouldn’t be alone forever. I have to admit, I feel the same as Carla about Moria and Kemnebi. When will I find love? Or will I spend my eternity in a cloud of lust?

I look around, my eyes scanning the nightclub for something delicious enough to sink my fangs into.

And my dick.

I spot a woman on the dance floor—beautiful, with curvy hips, full breasts, and a fat ass practically spilling out of her short dress that barely reaches her thighs. The way her ass bounces with every movement hypnotizes me, the firm flesh jiggling just enough to make my mouth water. Her skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat under the pulsing lights, giving her a radiant glow that draws my eyes to every curve.