Page 51 of Craving Carla

Ackley screams, a primal sound of pure terror. Amari’s hand clamps around his throat, the other hand pinning him to the table. Ackley struggles, but it’s like watching a mouse try to escape a python.

“You touched what’s mine,” Amari growls, his fangs extending to their full length. “You hurt her. Made her bleed.”

“Please,” Ackley gasps, his eyes bulging with fear. “I’ll tell you everything—what Brookstone and Blackburn is up to—my research on the spiders—on Carla’s children?—”

Amari laughs. “I don’t want your pathetic bribes. I want your suffering.”

With a swift, brutal motion, Amari plunges his hand into Ackley’s chest. Blood splatters everywhere—across the booth, the wall, my face and dress. Ackley’s scream turns to a wet gurgle as Amari’s hand searches inside his chest cavity.

I should be horrified. I should be looking away. But I can’t. I watch, transfixed, as Amari’s face twists with a savage pleasure. His expensive suit is ruined, soaked with Ackley’s blood, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Feel that?” Amari asks, his voice almost gentle. “That’s your heart. Still beating. For now.”

Ackley makes a choking sound, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Carla’s heartbeat is precious to me,” Amari continues, conversationally, as if he’s not elbow-deep in a man’s chest. “Yours means nothing.”

With a sickening squelch, Amari pulls his hand out, Ackley’s heart clutched in his fist. Blood pumps from the severed arteries, spraying across the table in diminishing pulses. Ackley’s body convulses once, twice, then goes still, his dead eyes turned toward me, frozen in an expression of ultimate terror.

I look at him, at the man who betrayed me, who punched me, who was going to sell me and my children to Brookstone and Blackburn. I should feel sick, but instead, a wave of vindication washes over me. He deserved this.

Amari brings the heart to his mouth and sinks his fangs into it, drinking deeply. The sight should disgust me, but all I feel is a dark satisfaction. Blood drips down his chin, soaking into the fabric of his clothes. When he’s finished, he drops the heart onto the table with a wet slap.

He turns to me, his eyes wild with bloodlust, his face a mask of primal fury. For a moment, I think I might be next. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye that says he’s not done with his rampage.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I throw myself into his arms, not caring that he’s covered in blood. I bury my face against him, sobbing uncontrollably. His arms wrap around me, tight and secure, and I feel his face press into my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out between sobs. “I’m sorry. I want to go home.”

“Okay, okay,” Amari murmurs, his hand gently stroking my back. His gentle touch calms me, and I cling to him like he’s my lifeline.

Damon finally stands, straightening his suit. “Leave the mess for the radicals to clean up. This needs to be a message for what happens when they fuck with Wintermoon.”

He flips his coin, catches it, and slides it into his pocket. “I’m tired of playing nice.”

I keep my face buried against Amari’s chest, not wanting to look at the scene around us. His body is warm from the fresh feed, and his arms are strong around me. In this moment, despite everything, I feel safer than I have in centuries.

18

Amari

It’s quiet on the ride back to Wintermoon. Carla shifts in her seat beside me, looking up nervously every few seconds. We’re both covered in Ackley’s blood, the metallic scent filling the SUV’s interior. Even Damon stays silent in the front seat, probably reflecting on everything that’s happened and eager to get back to his mate.

Once we cross the bridge and enter Wintermoon, Bobby immediately stops. This is as far as he can go. Damon nods to Bobby and exits the front passenger seat. Bobby looks at me in the rearview mirror, and I give him a nod. He pops the trunk, and I climb out, rounding the SUV to retrieve a large duffle bag packed with fresh clothes.

I’m at Carla’s door the moment it opens, ready to hiss at her for being so damn independent all the time. She climbs out with her tote bag in hand, and I snatch it away roughly. She stiffens at my reaction.

I don’t mean to be so harsh with her, but I’m so angry and frustrated right now that I can barely control myself. My rageisn’t directed at her—it’s at Ackley, at Alexis, at every radical who wants to use her and her children like lab rats. But my anger comes out sideways, spilling onto the woman I’m desperate to protect. Damon walks around the SUV toward us while I approach the driver’s side to talk with Bobby. He immediately bows his head to me and starts to kill the engine, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

“No, Bobby, escorting me won’t be necessary,” I tell him. I’m not going to my cabin on the Community Lands. I’m staying with Carla tonight and for the foreseeable future. This woman is a walking accident and needs someone by her side who will make sure she’s properly taken care of. I’ll be damned if I let her get hurt again.

“I want you to assemble a special team in Detroit. Get into Brookstone and Blackburn Enterprises and find out what Alexis is planning to do with Carla’s blood sample. Don’t try to retrieve it—she’s expecting that. Just watch and observe. I’ll use the data you provide to come up with a strategy to stop whatever she’s planning.”

Bobby nods and immediately puts the SUV in drive, then makes a U-turn, heading back across the bridge. Carla hangs her head as Damon approaches us.

“Carla...” he starts, but she shrugs and quickly shakes her head.

“No need for the lecture, Damon. I know I fucked up. I should have listened to you—all of you. And look at me now. I feel like a fool.”