Page 18

I can’t hold back my tears any longer. They spill over, hot tracks down my cheeks that I wipe away angrily. Amari starts to step forward, but I hold my hand up to stop him.

“I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your little friend’s fantasies. So don’t come near me trying to console me,” I snap, wiping my face and sniffling.

“Just follow me. We’ll finish the assessment tomorrow. I’ll take you to Moria right now. She’s around here somewhere.”

I hear Amari take in a sharp breath as I start heading deeper into the forest. They keep a few feet behind me as I look around at what seems like an empty forest.

But I can feel them, my children. All of them. I sigh because we had an agreement. They are supposed to stay on our land until we’ve received permission from King Amir to return to the patrol cabin—which, I’ve heard supernaturals in the market say they plan to burn once I’m relieved of my duties.

I want to go back into the shadows so bad right now.

“Carla...” Amari starts, but I hold my hand up, silencing him.

“Moria...” I murmur, only calling for her.

This is her moment, not theirs. I’m going home after this so I can cry and sulk over the fact that I’m going to be alone forever.

That’s a cold, hard fact I need to accept.

Or, I can dry my tears and visit the market to try to find a nice dress for my date with Ackley.

I don’t have to call for her twice. Moria suddenly appears from a tree, looking almost identical to Amari’s little friend, but smaller in size. She walks past me and stops, sending images into my mind. Grateful images. She’s thanking me for praying to Fate for her.

I watch as she approaches Amari’s little friend.

They greet each other in the way that spiders do, their legs joining together, their bodies vibrating slightly.

There’s a moment of silence between them, and both Amari and I know they’re connected.

Amari looks up at me, and I see that same damn pity in his eyes.

“Carla...” he begins, but I stop him before he can continue.

“I’m gonna go home. I think I’ve had enough for today,” I tell him firmly.

“And before you start, Amari, I am happy for both of my children. I prayed to Mother Fate for this union. I’m just grappling with the fact that I am alone.

Moria knows how to be safe and how to get home. I will find you tomorrow.”

I turn away and start the path back home, but I can feel Amari on my trail, his presence pressing at my back.

It frustrates me to the point that I stop and turn around, glaring at him.

He halts a few feet away, his expression still soft and concerned.

Where did the smug asshole go? I almost want him back instead of this sympathetic version.

“I don’t like seeing you hurting, Carla. Let me walk you home. Be a listening ear, please,” he offers, his voice gentle.

“That’s what I don’t want!” I shout at him, tears streaming down my face again. “I just want to be alone. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want a listening ear. I’ll be fine in the morning. This isn’t the first time I’ve cried.”

I turn around and start walking again, but I hear his footsteps behind me. So I stop again, this time my fury building to a boiling point. I can feel my children following us in the shadows, but strangely, they don’t see Amari as a threat. It must be because of his connection to Little Friend.

I stop again, but this time, I don’t turn around.

“Amari, please. I beg you,” I say, my voice breaking. I hear him groan, the sound full of frustration. I can’t scent his mood like other supernaturals can, but I feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

The wind picks up suddenly, and when I finally turn around, he’s gone.

And just like that, I got what I wanted.

All it took was me being a salty, grumpy bitch. Mad because Fate didn’t choose me.

I start walking again, slower now. It feels like someone’s placed a heavy stone inside me.

I try to focus on the positives—Moria found her mate after all this time.

It’s what I prayed for. And I have a date with Ackley to look forward to.

A chance at something, even if it’s not the cosmic connection every other supernatural gets to experience.

But the jealousy still gnaws at me. Why does everyone else get a perfect match, a fated mate, and I get nothing? Why am I the one supernatural born without the fated scent? What makes me so different, so unworthy?

I find myself heading toward my cabin in the woods, the small structure King Amir built for me.

It’s a beautiful place, far more than I deserve, with a separate enclosure for my children to nest comfortably.

But right now, it feels like a prison—another reminder that I exist apart from everyone else.

When I reach the clearing where my cabin sits, I pause. Something doesn’t feel right. The air is too still, too quiet. My senses go on high alert, and I reach out with my mind, trying to connect with any of my children nearby.

Nothing.

Then I see him, leaning against the door frame of my cabin, his suit making him look like a shadow brought to life.

Amari.

“How did you—” I start, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

“Vampire speed has its advantages,” he says, his voice casual as if we’re discussing the weather. “You can be alone in your cabin, but I’m not letting you walk home alone when you’re upset.”

“Why do you care?” I ask, the words coming out harsher than I intend.

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. “I don’t know,” he admits finally. “But I do. And it’s annoying the hell out of me.”

I almost laugh at that. At least he’s being honest.

“Well, you’ve fulfilled your gentlemanly duty. I’m home safe. You can go now,” I tell him, walking past him to my door.

He steps aside, but his hand catches mine as I reach for the doorknob. His touch is gentle this time, nothing like the painful grip from earlier.

“My little friend—we need to give him a proper name,” he says, his voice low. “Something worthy of his mate, Moria.”

I look up at him, surprised. “You’d let me name him?”

“He’s yours,” Amari says simply. “He always was. I was just borrowing him.”

Something deep inside me shifts, a tiny crack in the wall I’ve built around my heart. “Kemnebi,” I say after a moment. “It means ‘one who was once lost’ in Egyptian. Since you found him in Granada when the Moors still had influence there...”

Amari’s face breaks into a genuine smile, and for the first time, I see no smugness, no arrogance in his expression—just pure, unfiltered joy.

“Kemnebi,” he repeats, the name rolling off his tongue with perfect pronunciation. “It’s perfect.”

We stand there for a moment, his hand still on mine, the doorknob forgotten. The setting sun highlights the defined planes of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. For a split second, I wonder what it would be like to kiss him, to feel those lips against mine.

I pull my hand away, shaking the thought from my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the assessment,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

He nods, taking a step back. “Rest well, Carla. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your children—the ones you lost. No parent should have to endure that.”

The sincerity in his voice takes me by surprise again. Before I can respond, he’s gone, nothing but a whisper of wind in his wake.

I push open my door and step inside, locking it behind me even though it’s pointless. If Amari or any other vampire wanted to get in, a lock wouldn’t stop them.

My cabin welcomes me with familiar shadows and the earthy scent of herbs. I drop onto my couch, suddenly exhausted. My wrist still aches slightly where Amari grabbed me, but the pain is fading.

Just like that, my children start appearing from the shadows—emerging from vents, from under furniture, from the dark corners of the room. They surround me, their many eyes like stars.

“Well,” I tell them, my voice soft, “Moria’s not the only one with news. We found Kemnebi today. Her mate.”

They skitter excitedly, legs tapping against the floor, against each other, against me as they climb onto the couch beside me. One of the larger ones—Tofi—sends me images of celebration, of happiness.

I smile despite myself. “Yes, it’s a good day for our family.”

But Tofi sends me more images—Amari and me, standing close at the cabin door. The question is clear in the pictures she paints in my mind.

“No,” I tell her firmly. “He’s just helping with border security. That’s all.”

She doesn’t look convinced, if a spider can look skeptical. More images flood my mind—Amari defending me to Jax, Amari standing between me and danger at the bridge, Amari’s expression when he looked at me just moments ago.

“Stop it,” I say, but there’s no real heat in my words. “Just because he was nice to me doesn’t mean anything. He’s a womanizer. Kad warned me herself.”

The spiders exchange looks—at least, that’s what it feels like when their many eyes turn toward each other. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they all settle down around me. Their warm bodies pressed against mine, offering comfort in the only way they know how.

I stroke the nearest one, feeling the familiar bristly texture beneath my fingertips. “I know you want me to be happy,” I murmur. “I know you want me to have what Moria has found. But it’s not that simple.”

I close my eyes, letting the tears come freely now that I’m alone with my children. They understand my pain in a way no one else can—the centuries of loneliness, of being feared, of watching others find their fated mates while I remain alone.

But as I sit there, surrounded by my children, I remember the way Amari looked at me today—not with disgust or fear when he saw my connection to the spiders, but with genuine admiration. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel a tiny spark of hope.

Maybe I won’t always be alone after all.