Page 25

Amari

C arla’s children step out from the shadows at her request, their massive forms appearing from places that seem impossible for their size. I grin when I see Tofi crawling toward me, a much larger one close behind her. They gather around us; their eyes fixed on Carla as if awaiting her command.

It reminds me of my coven—the way they serve our cause, united in helping supernaturals and melanated humans overcome the systematic oppression we’ve faced for centuries. The same oppression that King Amir seems unwilling to address, which is something I definitely plan to bring up before I leave.

Why? Because I’m an asshole who asks the difficult questions everyone else avoids.

Carla looks at me, her enchanting green eyes meeting mine.

It’s getting harder to resist the urge to kiss this woman.

She’s witty, intelligent, and her body..

. I want to trace every curve with my tongue, sending her to heights of pleasure she’s never experienced.

I want to own her, possess her completely.

My heart isn’t beating for her, and goddamn, I wish it would.

Carla narrows her eyes at Tofi, and I stiffen, bracing myself for the spider to reveal how I stalked her cabin the other night.

I don’t even know why I did it. I felt some inexplicable pull to watch her sleep, but her children intercepted me before I made it out of the forest into the clearing.

They cornered me, bombarding me with images until I gave up and retreated to my cabin in the Community Lands.

Beautiful images of me kissing Carla, embracing her, embracing them—as if we were one happy family.

“Tofi, have you been sneaking off again...” Carla starts to chide the large arachnid, but I quickly clear my throat, adjusting my tie nervously.

“No, Tofi didn’t sneak off,” I admit, my voice rougher than intended. “They surrounded me when they caught me sneaking to your cabin last night.”

Her mouth falls open. Her beautiful smile quickly shifts into a glare.

“So you’re a creep?” she questions, folding her arms over her chest.

“Carla...” I start to defend myself, but suddenly, images flood my mind—me kissing Carla, me in the forest with her children, me in a web with them, petting them. Then letters form the word “Daddy.”

I chuckle, and Carla scoffs immediately after. She must have received the same imagery.

“He’s not your father, children,” she says quickly. “He took care of Kemnebi, that doesn’t mean...”

“Hold on, Carla,” I interrupt, giving her my smuggest grin. “Let’s not be hasty with them. If they want to call me daddy, I don’t see the big deal.” I adjust my suit as Carla’s glare intensifies.

She looks ready to beat my ass, and goddamn, I hope she does. She’s sexy as hell when I piss her off. That’s why I enjoy doing it. She walks over and slaps her hand against me. I’m so turned on by her frustration right now that I laugh a little louder.

“You are so fucking annoying sometimes, it’s just—ugh!” she yells.

I clear my throat and extend my hand toward the children who are still sending me images of myself in a fatherly role. It’s flattering, honestly. I can tell they’ve been looking for someone like me.

“Don’t yell at them, Carla,” I say, softening my voice. “I know it’s difficult trying to reason with them that I’m not who they think I am, but try to show a little more patience.”

She looks frustrated at first, then softens.

“Remember, they’re still your children. Be soft with them. If they want me to be the father, I don’t mind playing along.”

“I don’t want them to get their hopes up,” she says, and I smile at that.

Without realizing it, she’s being a mother right now, trying to protect them from the pain of rejection. She knows I’m not staying, so playing this game will only hurt them. But looking at these magnificent creatures and their beautiful witch mother, I’m suddenly not sure if I can leave Wintermoon.

Not without them.

Shit.

I smooth my hand over my head and try to refocus on what I need from them.

“Children, could you help me understand what happened the night you encountered the radicals—the night you lost two of your own?”

They oblige without question. Their feet tap against the ground in unison, creating a sound almost like a song. Then the imagery hits me, flowing in a way that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a scene from a film.

Carla stands at the border of the bridge, telling a group of radical men to back off.

They call her an “ugly witch bitch” and tell her that she and her “spider creatures” need to be “wiped from the planet.” But Carla just stands there, smug, a little too confident over men who laugh at her without fear.

“You don’t know who or what you’re dealing with,” she tells them in the vision, “but if I get harmed, you’re surely going to find out.”

One of the men steps forward, holding a gun at his side. Carla doesn’t flinch. I admire her confidence—the way she stands in her Wintermoon shirt and jeans that hug her curves, her sheriff jacket, her curls blowing in the wind.

Her children suddenly appear from behind the poles and wiring of the bridge, crawling down, temporarily surprising the men with their size and how they could fit through such small spaces.

“Like I said, back off. You aren’t crossing this bridge,” Carla says in the vision.

The man raises his weapon and starts firing, but the spiders use their web silk to form a shield that prevents the bullets from hitting her. Then Carla turns in horror when she hears two of her children scream in agony as gunshots ring out from behind.

She never felt the danger at her back, and neither did her children. Two humans took down Verde and Petra like it was nothing. Carla drops to her knees, screaming in agony as she feels their pain. The other children immediately charge the two men, tearing them to shreds right on the bridge.

I snap out of it, noticing Carla on her knees before me, screaming in agony, her hand clutching herself, her nails digging into her skin as if she’s trying to rip her heart out.

I rush over to her, dropping to my knees and restraining her wrists, pulling her into my arms.

“Carla, stop. Carla!” I yell, holding her tightly.

“I can feel when they die,” she chokes out against me. “It’s like feeling my heart being ripped right out of me.”

I pull back, cupping her face. She sobs, choking as tears stream down her cheeks.

“The memory, the images they sent you—it felt like I was reliving their deaths all over again,” she manages.

I immediately release her and stand, staring at all of them with my hands up in surrender.

“Okay, children. That’s enough. I’m sorry, I didn’t know the memory would hurt your mommy,” I explain.

“It’s okay,” Carla says, rising weakly back to her feet. I hurry over, holding her waist, helping her steady herself. She starts to wipe her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe, but I pull my handkerchief from my suit jacket and do it for her.

“Did you get what you need?” she asks weakly.

I nod, smoothing the cloth softly over her beautiful face. “More than I expected.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You knew this was going to hurt you, didn’t you?”

She clears her throat and tries to look away, but I catch her face, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“Yes,” she answers with a glare. “When we lost Verde and Petra, the children replayed their deaths for days, until they realized what it was doing to me, and then they stopped. I needed you to know what happened.”

I sigh and shake my head, then press my forehead to hers, wanting to take away her pain. I don’t like seeing her like this. She needs to stop trying to be strong all the time. Let someone else carry the weight for a change.

“Don’t do that again, Carla,” I say, my tone almost coming out like a threat.

“I don’t care if the information will help me— if it hurts you, then open your mouth and tell me.

” I pull back, gripping her cheeks harder, glaring into her beautiful green eyes.

She needs a man who’s not afraid to stand up to her, to tell her when she’s being too stubborn for her own good.

She gasps, staring at me for a long moment, almost entranced, then nods.

“Okay,” she finally breathes out, and I smile at her.

I look to her children, and I grin when they send me images of their worry for Carla. Images of me taking care of her, putting her to bed, tucking her in, staying with her to make sure she falls asleep.

“I will,” I say to them with a nod. And with that, they quickly retreat, disappearing back into the trees, becoming almost invisible. I don’t know if they’re camouflaging themselves or simply vanishing, but it’s magnificent how they do it, especially considering their size.

“You will what?” Carla questions, brushing dirt from her knees.

I don’t answer, just smile at her. “Let me walk you back to the cabin, make sure you’re safely inside.”

She narrows her eyes but, instead of arguing or pushing for an answer, agrees. She starts walking ahead. I immediately catch up with my vampire speed, keeping my hand at the small of her back, surprised she’s not slapping me away.

She surprises me even more when she leans into me, resting her head against me. I move my arm and wrap it around her, pulling her closer, and her head shifts to rest against me.

“I’m sorry—when that happens, I get so exhausted,” she murmurs.

“Don’t apologize, Carla. I’m here to help. Use me for what you need.” She smirks against me at that, and I smile down at her.

“Do you think you can help us?” she asks as I help her step over a branch. We’re almost back to her cabin, and I don’t want to let her go.

“Yes,” I say, but what I’m not telling her is that I plan to drag it out.

The humans were somehow able to mask their scent, making themselves undetectable to the arachnids. I bet they were testing to see how well it worked, willing to put their lives on the line. And that sounds oddly familiar.