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“Something wrong? You’re not attracted to me or something?” Even she knows she can’t get my dick aroused right now.

I pull her up onto my lap so that she’s straddling me, my hands clasping her neck and tilting it to the side.

“I changed my mind. Just a feed,” I say.

She gasps but doesn’t fight me, her hands pressed against me. I can smell the disappointment in her scent, but apparently, my body only wants Carla right now, and that’s just pissing me off.

Because she’s not fated.

I bite into the woman’s neck, my fangs piercing through her skin, and feed on her.

The sensation is immediate—her warm blood rushing into my mouth, coating my tongue with its metallic sweetness.

I can taste the alcohol she’s been drinking, the hint of adrenaline from her excitement, the subtle undertones of what she ate for dinner.

Her body goes slack against mine, a soft moan escaping her lips as the endorphins hit her system—nature’s way of making our feeding less traumatic for the prey.

Her pulse quickens then slows as I drink deeply, my hands gripping her waist to hold her steady.

The veins in her neck throb against my lips, pushing more blood into my mouth with each beat of her heart.

I control my feeding carefully—not too fast, not too slow. Fast enough to sate my hunger, slow enough not to kill her. Her blood slides down my throat, warming me from the inside, spreading through my cold body like a current of electricity. It fills me, energizes me, brings my senses alive.

But it’s not completely satisfying. It lacks Carla’s peachy scent, the tantalizing hint of what her blood might taste like.

Even so, it’s enough to fill me up. I drink deeply, feeling the woman’s strength drain with each pull.

Finally, I withdraw my fangs from her neck and gently ease her weakened body off my lap, settling her down comfortably beside me.

I clean the blood from my mouth and fix my clothes, tucking my useless dick back into my pants before pulling on my shirt, securing my cufflinks, and pulling on my suit jacket.

I’m full, but the woman is drained, looking exhausted as she slumps on the bench.

I move over to her and pull down her dress to cover her exposed panties, then take a napkin to clean her cheek.

“You’re being so sweet, but you didn’t want me,” she says weakly.

I groan, disappointment clear in my features. “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you. But it appears I’m bewitched.”

She pouts her lips sleepily at me as I use the handkerchief from my suit to clean her up, wiping her face and neck. I lean down and plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you,” I tell her before standing upright. I pull some cash out of my pocket and place it next to her purse. “I’ll send someone in from the bar to get you something to drink and back to your hotel room safely.”

“I know the drill,” she says weakly, and I grin at her. “I’ve been bitten before, but I was hoping to get fucked this time.”

“Perhaps another time—raincheck?” I say, starting for the door.

“Wait,” she calls out weakly, trying to sit up. “I didn’t catch your name.”

I look back at her with a smile. “Amari Al-Baqar, Coven Leader of Medina Shadow.”

She smiles weakly. “Allison.”

I bow my head to her and walk out, closing the door behind me. I make my way to the bar, still fixing my suit. Ackley notices me and walks over, a towel slung over his shoulder. He leans over the counter once he reaches me.

“A lovely lady named Allison needs some water and some supplements to help her recover from the feed,” I tell him, straightening my tie. “Room three. She’s pretty weak—took more than I probably should have.”

Ackley’s expression shifts slightly, professional concern replacing his casual demeanor. “How much did you take? We have different supplement packages depending on the severity.”

“Enough that she’ll need the full recovery kit,” I admit. “B vitamins, iron pills, the juice with electrolytes—all of it. And someone to escort her back to wherever she’s staying.”

“Got it.” He nods, already reaching beneath the counter for what looks like a medical kit. “We’ve already got staff on shift to take care of that,” he says with a wink.

“Make sure she gets the premium treatment,” I add, sliding several hundred-dollar bills across the counter. “For her inconvenience.”

Ackley looks at the money, then back at me with raised eyebrows. “Most vampires don’t care this much about after-care.”

I shrug. “I’m not most vampires.”

“Clearly,” he says, a hint of something like respect in his voice as he takes the cash. “I’ll see to it personally.”

I nod to him, pat the counter, and make my way out of the bar.

The night air hits me as I step out, and I take a deep breath, scanning the area like the predator I am.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk down the streets, making my way toward the docks.

This time, I have a private boat that Damon secured for me, so I no longer have to take the ferry.

I unhook it from the dock, climb in, start the engine, and take the boat back to Wintermoon, heading at full speed.

I reach the docks within minutes; my mind still fixed on Carla.

On Kemnebi and Moria. I cannot get Carla out of my head, and it’s driving me mad.

Even when I start to think about securing the borders and how to protect her children from another radical attack, it bothers me immensely to know that radical humans killed two of her children.

Once I reach the docks, my eyes drift to the bridge, then to the border of Michigan, overlooking the waters. I want to pay a visit to the radical bar that’s giving her trouble. But instead, I cut the engine to my boat, secure the line to the cleat, then climb off and make my way up the ramp.

My hands stuffed in my pockets; I take in the cool night air and the bright full moon. I should be heading for the Community Lands, where my temporary home rests, but before I know it, I find myself deep in the forest, and at vampire speed, back at Carla’s cabin.

I reach the edge of the forest surrounding Carla’s cabin and slow my pace, moving silently now through the underbrush.

The night is alive around me—owls calling in the distance, small creatures rustling in the fallen leaves, the gentle breeze stirring the branches overhead.

But all I care about is what’s happening inside that cabin.

I pause behind a large oak tree; my eyes fixed on the warm glow coming from her windows.

Through the glass, I can make out the shape of her bed, and on it, Carla’s sleeping form.

My vampire senses pick up every detail—the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the occasional soft murmur as she dreams, the way she shifts beneath her blankets, curling onto her side.

I lean against the tree, inhaling deeply. Even from this distance, I can catch faint traces of her peachy scent. It mingles with the earthy smell of the forest, creating a combination that makes my dead heart ache with longing.

Her cabin is small but sturdily built, the craftsmanship apparent. A porch wraps around the front, with a rocking chair positioned to overlook the clearing. Smoke drifts softly from the chimney, hinting at a fireplace inside, keeping her warm against the autumn chill.

I close my eyes and focus my hearing, filtering out the forest sounds until all I can hear is Carla—her steady heartbeat, the soft whisper of her breath, the subtle rustle of bedsheets as she moves.

I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s invasive, bordering on stalking.

But I can’t help myself. I need to be near her, even if she doesn’t know I’m here.

What is happening to me? I’ve never felt this drawn to someone, never been so consumed by thoughts of a woman who isn’t even my fated mate. It’s maddening.

I want to sneak inside and just watch her for a little bit, stroke her cheek while she’s sleeping, but just as I start to take a step out of the forest and into the clearing, I notice them.

Many eyes all around the forest, surrounding me in the darkness. Carla’s children, wondering why the fuck I’m watching her cabin in the middle of the night.

I’m not afraid of them at all. In fact, I adjust my suit and greet them. “Hello, Carla’s children.”

One steps from the shadows, and its size takes my breath away.

I can tell it’s a male, similar to my little friend but significantly larger—easily three times its size.

Its body is jet black with vivid green markings along its back, resembling runes carved into its glossy exoskeleton.

Its legs stretch wider than my outstretched arms, and its eight eyes like polished obsidian.

The fangs jutting from its mouth look sharp enough to pierce steel as it inches closer to me.

“I don’t want to hurt your mother,” I say. “I just?—”

Before I can finish, the oversized arachnid sends images to me—me with Carla, kissing her, loving her, embracing them as my own, as my children.

I stare at it strangely, then look around the forest at all the eyes watching me, and grin in amazement. I’m not frightened but curious, amazed, and genuinely pleased.

I give it a smug grin. “So, you approve?”