Page 21

Carla

I don’t shop much, only for food and necessities. Whenever I come here, I always get stares. But this time, I’m here for something different.

A dress for my date. I only have a few days to get ready, and I want to make sure I look my best. It’s my first date, and hopefully, my first everything else. I’m excited and nervous, and I don’t know the first thing about how to make sure I look nice enough.

I finally step out of the forest, making my way across the street to the shopping strip, already bracing myself for the stares I’m getting.

As I walk onto the pavement, heading for the retail store, I feel eyes following me, hushed whispers trailing in my wake.

Some supernaturals even step off the sidewalk to avoid me. Fucking typical.

The retail store has everything—clothing, shoes, personal items, and other things.

It’s pretty much the place you go for clothes and stuff on Wintermoon, unless you want to make your own.

The shop window showcases a beautiful wedding gown on display, all white satin and intricate beadwork.

I pause for a moment, allowing myself to imagine what it would be like to wear something so elegant, so desired.

Then I shake my head. No point in dreaming about something that’s never going to happen.

As I approach the door, I almost collide with a wolf shifter and his pregnant mate. The way they scramble to get out of my path—the fear in their eyes as they huddle together like I’ve got my arachnids lurking nearby—makes my stomach churn. With an eye roll, I brush past them without a word.

“Sorry,” I mutter, but they don’t say anything back. Of course they don’t. They never do.

I sigh and start looking around. I’m just here for the dress, the one I’ve eyed every time I visit. No one has bought it for months, and I always notice it when I shop for personal items. I keep wondering what it would feel like to be in something so feminine, so unlike my usual attire.

Right now, I just wear my Wintermoon uniform—a fitted t-shirt that says “Wintermoon Sheriff Department,” with a pair of fitted jeans and black boots, and a Wintermoon Sheriff jacket.

When I’m home, I wear a simple nightgown.

But it’s better than the tattered clothing I’d wear all the time when I was stuck in the shadows. Anything is better than that.

I walk through the women’s section, weaving past the racks until I reach the dress displayed high on the wall, elegantly draped on a mannequin. It’s a body-hugging black dress with intricate silver beadwork, creating mesmerizing patterns across the fabric. It has an almost magical quality to it.

I smooth my hands over my hips, trying to measure myself against the dress with my eyes. I’m curvy in the hips; this dress might not fit me. But I’ve seen women in dresses that barely cover their asses all the time on the tourist island. That appears to be the style to catch a man these days.

I dig into my pocket and pull out the cash—money I don’t really need.

Wintermoon works mostly on a barter system, but they’ve started using currency as Wintermoon has grown.

Most of the humans on the Community Lands prefer it that way.

Some use it, some don’t. I like it because it feels like I earned it, working on Wintermoon.

It makes me feel like I’m earning my place to be here and not just sitting, taking up space.

I stuff the cash back in my pocket, turn around, and walk to the counter to ask a clerk to help me get the dress down.

I’ll take it home and try it on. And if it doesn’t fit, I’ll just keep it.

I already know how the community feels about me.

They already want to burn down the patrol cabin because my spiders and I have been living in it.

I reach the counter and address the clerk with a kind, nervous smile. “Hi, I really like that dress, and I think it’s my size. Could you grab it for me?” I place my hands gently on the counter, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

Melissa’s eyes narrow the moment she recognizes me.

Her upper lip curls slightly—that subtle grimace people make when they smell something rotten.

She’s one of those fated humans who moved to the Community Lands for safety, waiting for her supernatural mate to find her.

Right now, she’s looking at me like I’m something she’d scrape off her shoe.

“I’m sorry, Carla, but that dress is sold,” she says, not even trying to hide the sneer in her voice.

I rarely splurge on myself. My cabin has everything I need to survive. But for once, I want to look nice for this date. The way the fabric hugs the mannequin’s curves—it would make even me feel beautiful.

“The dress isn’t sold, Melissa.” My fingers press harder against the counter. “Please go grab it for me. I have the money.” I pull out the cash and set it on the counter between us. “I won’t return it if it doesn’t fit. I’ll keep it.”

Her eyes flick to the money, then back to my face. “Look, Carla. You’re scaring the customers in here.”

My jaw clenches so tight I can feel my teeth grinding together. I’m one rejection away from turning my back on Wintermoon for good. The shadows call to me every time I try to fit in, whispering promises of acceptance in the darkness. At least there, I’m not treated like a contagious disease.

“Is there a problem?”

My head whips around at the familiar voice.

Damon and Amari stand at the entrance of the retail store, looking like they just stepped out of a catalog in their expensive suits and polished shoes.

Amari’s beard is neatly trimmed while Damon maintains his perpetually smooth shave.

Their cologne likely attempts to mask the scent of blood from their last meal.

Amari’s eyes lock onto Melissa, and she immediately drops her gaze to the counter.

“If you want to keep your job here in the market, Melissa, I’d suggest you grab that dress for Carla,” Damon says, his voice firm and cold.

Amari flashes that insufferable grin at Damon, like they’re sharing some inside joke at my expense. Melissa practically bows to Damon before scurrying from behind the counter. She grabs a long hook to reach the display dress that’s deliberately hung out of reach.

Amari approaches the counter, picks up my cash, and hands it back to me. His fingers brush against mine, cool against my skin.

“I’ve got it,” he says, that smug smile still plastered on his face.

Melissa returns to the counter within minutes.

My eyes drink in the dress hungrily. I run my fingertips over the material while Melissa grabs tissue paper and a bag to package it.

The fabric feels expensive—smooth and heavy in a way cheap clothes never do.

For a moment, I let myself imagine how it will feel against my skin when I put it on.

Will it make me look desirable? Will Ackley think I’m beautiful?

“Shoes,” I murmur, tapping my finger against my bottom lip. “I need to get shoes.”

“It’s a lovely dress. Are you going somewhere?” Amari asks, pulling out his wallet. His tone is casual, but there’s something sharp underneath.

I glance at Damon, who meets my glare with one of his own. Thanks a lot.

“She has a date with a human,” Damon offers, like he’s sharing the weather forecast.

Amari’s body goes rigid beside me. His hand freezes halfway to his pocket. “A date?” The disbelief in his voice is unmistakable.

He scoffs, then chuckles, his face scrunching up like I just told him pigs can fly. The reaction lights a fire in my gut.

“Wow, you’re making it so obvious that you can’t believe someone would want to date me,” I mutter, heat rising to my cheeks.

His eyes narrow at me. “With whom?” The question has the same overprotective tone Damon uses when he’s playing big brother.

“His name is Ackley, he works at?—”

“Midnight Moon,” Amari finishes, cutting me off. “Yeah, the spider guy. I know him.”

My blood runs cold. How does he know Ackley? When did they meet? The thought of them talking about me—of Amari possibly saying things to make Ackley reconsider our date—makes my stomach twist.

I roll my eyes and turn back to the counter. “No, don’t use his card. I brought my own money. I’ll pay for it.”

Amari moves closer, his chest nearly pressed against my back as he reaches around me to push his card forward. “No, I said, I’ve got it.”

Melissa’s eyes bounce between us before she takes his card instead of my cash. Of course she would.

Fuck the shoes. I’ll come back for them later when I’m alone. I snatch the bag from the counter and hold out the cash to Amari, my hand shaking slightly with frustration.

“Take the money. You aren’t paying for my dress.”

Amari tucks his card and receipt into his wallet, then adjusts his suit jacket with a smooth pull at the cuffs. He steps toward me, closing the distance I tried to create.

“Oh no, Carla. It was my pleasure,” he says, that self-assured grin making my skin crawl. He leans closer, his lips near my ear. “That looks like a fuck-me dress. I see it on women all the time.”

“Like the woman you fucked last night when you fed?” I snap back, my voice sickly sweet. I know what vampires do at Midnight Moon. I’m not stupid. And if he met Ackley there last night, that’s exactly what he was doing.

And why do I even care?

He grins at me, his golden eyes flashing. Amari leans in again, his cool breath ghosting across my skin as he whispers, “If you want to get fucked for the first time, why not give it to someone worthy, not just throw your pussy at the first man that shows you interest.”

“Enough, Amari!” Damon barks from behind us, but it’s too late.

Rage explodes inside me like a supernova. My hand moves before my brain can stop it, flying through the air and connecting with his face. The slap cracks through the retail store like a gunshot, silencing every conversation.