Page 65 of Craving Carla

His words confuse me, their intensity at odds with his actions. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I call down. “Isn’t this what you do once you get what you want? Fuck them and leave them?”

“Is that what you think I did?” He asks, his voice suddenly dangerous. “That I used you like some disposable pleasure? That last night meant nothing to me?”

I stay silent, too afraid to voice my fears out loud.

He begins to pace below me, his movements agitated. “I’ve existed for over a millennium, Carla. I’ve seen empires rise and fall. I watched my civilization burn to ash. I’ve fucked more women than I can count—and yes, I’m not proud of that fact. But never, not once in all those centuries, have I made love to a woman the way I made love to you last night.”

He stops and looks up at me, his eyes burning. “I left because I had to feed. The hunger was driving me mad, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I went to clean up a mess for us—for our family.”

“Our family?” I repeat, my voice small.

He sighs, and I notice him adjusting his tie. Even from this high up, I can see the frustration in his eyes.

“Come down, Carla. You’ll understand better once we talk.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not coming down until you leave.”

Amari nearly hisses up at me in frustration. I giggle, enjoying it. Good, he’s an asshole. He deserves to suffer a little bit for leaving me to wake up alone and sulk all day.

“Carla...” He says my name like it’s a warning. “Don’t make me get you myself. This is not how I want to start things off with you.”

I raise an eyebrow, finding my footing in this argument. “I’m not one of your little conquests that’s going to bow down to your beck and call. Go find yourself a new woman at Midnight Moon. Didn’t a woman have your dick in her mouth a few days ago? What makes me so different?”

“Everything!” he shouts, his voice carrying through the forest. “Everything about you is different. Your mind, your heart, your soul—your children, your strength, your vulnerability. The way you refuse to let the world break you, even when it’s tried a thousand times. The way you love your children with such fierce devotion. The way you smell like peaches and sunshine even when you’re standing in darkness.”

He runs a hand through his short curls, looking more human, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. “You’re different because I’ve given you my heart, Carla. Not metaphorically—literally.”

“How the fuck do you not feel it? This makes no sense at all,” Amari growls in frustration, his face darkening with an emotion I can’t quite place.

I look down at him, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The mate bond,” he says, his voice becoming softer, almost pleading. “You feel nothing? No pull, no connection, nothing different since last night?”

I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “I’m not fated, remember? I don’t even have the fated scent. Are you trying to be cruel?”

He stands perfectly still for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he tilts his head back, looking at the darkening sky as if seeking answers from the stars just beginning to appear.

“All this time,” he says, more to himself than to me. “Your children have been protecting you in ways I don’t think even they fully understand.”

I shift uncomfortably on my silk bed. What is he talking about?

Amari huffs in frustration and then starts to look around the forest, almost as if he’s listening for something. Then he grins, a sudden, wolfish expression that makes my stomach flip.

“Children, come to Daddy,” he calls, his voice ringing with authority.

I start to tell him to stop this ridiculous game, but the words die in my throat as my children suddenly pour from their hiding places, swarming toward him like he’s calling them home. They crawl down trees, slip out from under rocks, squeeze from hollow logs—all converging on Amari in a wave of many-legged devotion.

My mouth falls open as I watch Tofi take the lead, her burgundy body moving steadily toward Amari. She reaches him first, her front legs tapping against his expensive shoes like a greeting.

“There’s my girl,” he says, kneeling down to her level, gently petting her bristly back. “Daddy’s beautiful girl.”

And Tofi—my strong-willed, stubborn, fiercely protective Tofi—leans into his touch like a cat seeking affection.

“Amari, I don’t know what the fuck this is, but you better leave my children alone, and I mean it,” I snarl, rage and confusion battling for dominance inside me.

He looks up at me, his eyes flashing. “They’re our children now, Carla. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I watch in disbelief as he leans toward Tofi, speaking to her as if they share some profound secret. “Cut Mommy down from the tree. I need to talk to her.”