Page 27

Carla

The Date

I ’m a fucking mess.

The dress mocks me from where it hangs on my bedroom door as I pace back and forth. I’ve changed my mind about five times already. Maybe I should just wear jeans and a t-shirt? Be myself instead of trying to be something I’m not?

My bedroom looks like a tornado hit it—clothes strewn across the bed; makeup scattered over my dresser.

I tried putting on mascara and lipstick but washed it all off when I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back.

What the hell am I doing? No man has ever made me feel the need to put on lipstick before.

I haven’t worn makeup in... have I ever worn makeup? I can’t even remember.

I catch my reflection in the mirror again.

The face staring back is mine, but somehow more vulnerable than I’ve allowed myself to be in centuries.

Green eyes questioning everything. Why am I trying so hard?

It’s just Ackley. Just a date. Just one night of pretending I’m normal, that someone could actually want me.

I groan and yank the dress off its hanger, stepping into it and zipping it up. The fabric clings to my curves exactly how I thought it would—not leaving much to the imagination. The face in the mirror looks uncertain, vulnerable.

I slip into a pair of sneakers and take the shoes Amari bought me, placing them into a small tote bag that I sling over my shoulder.

As I step out of my bedroom, images flood my mind—my children sending me warnings, showing me Ackley surrounded by darkness, danger signals flashing.

“Will you stop it!” I yell, stomping down the hallway. They’re out of sight, but I can feel them watching, their presence lingering around me. Eight eyes—no, hundreds of eyes—all tracking my movements from the shadows. “I’m going on this date whether you like it or not!”

More images flood my mind—Amari’s face, his hands on my cheeks, the way he looked at me on my porch last night.

The golden glow of his eyes, the feel of his fingers against my skin.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the vision.

My children are relentless, bombarding me with scenes of Amari and me together, almost like they’re trying to write some fairy tale where I end up with the handsome vampire who actually sees me.

“Amari is fated and I am not,” I snap, jogging down the stairs. “Messing with him will only get me hurt later on. I need you all to understand that. He’ll find his mate someday and then what? I’m left as the foolish witch who thought a vampire like him could want someone like me? No thanks.”

I grab my long cardigan and slide it over my shoulders, glancing down at my bare legs. Maybe I should’ve put on leggings. Too late now. If I don’t leave this second, I’ll lose my nerve completely.

When I open the front door, my heart sinks. They’re all there—my children—standing at the edge of the forest clearing, a wall of arachnid bodies between me and my date. I shut the door behind me and clench my jaw.

“Really? This is what we’re doing now?”

I clutch my tote bag and head toward the bridge. When they start to follow, I whirl around and hiss at them—a sound I’ve never directed at my children before. They freeze, eight-eyed stares registering shock at my outburst.

Guilt crashes over me. “Look, you don’t understand because all of you are paired up. Even Moria has Kemnebi now. But not me.”

Their legs tap against the forest floor, creating that distinctive rhythm they use when they’re distressed.

I can feel their confusion, their hurt. They’ve never seen me like this—desperate, lashing out.

Not at them. Never at them. In all our centuries together, I’ve been their protector, their mother, their safe place.

Now I’m standing here shouting at them because I want one night of feeling normal, of feeling desired.

They respond with more images of Amari, and it feels like they’re deliberately trying to piss me off.

This time they show him bringing me roses, adjusting his tie nervously before approaching my porch, the way his eyes softened when he saw me smile.

It’s like they’ve been watching him, studying him, deciding he’s worthy of me when I never asked for their opinion.

“Amari is not my fated mate!” I snap, then groan, pressing my palms against my cheeks.

“Don’t you want Mommy to be happy? Just for a little while?

I can’t have anything real with Ackley. I know that—I’m not stupid.

He’s human and I’m immortal. I just want to feel something—like a woman.

After that, it’s back into the shadows with just you and me, just the way you like it. ”

Their response is immediate—images of themselves huddled in a dark corner, feeling like burdens, thinking I’m miserable because of them.

“No, no, you don’t make me miserable,” I say quickly, my heart breaking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I love you. I love all of you. You’re my babies. But Mommy deserves to be happy too. It’s just for one night. And I’m coming home. I won’t see Ackley again.”

I turn to leave, but they start following me again. I stop and face them, something hardening inside me.

“If you don’t let me go, if you ruin this for me, you will hurt me.” My voice cracks. “I am asking you for the bare minimum. One night. You can give Mommy one night.”

They freeze at my words, their massive bodies going completely still. I see them exchange glances with their multiple eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. The largest one—Tofi—sends me an image of them retreating, letting me go, but with a sense of deep worry attached to it.

They stop at my words, and I hate myself for manipulating them, but I’m desperate.

There’s nothing wrong with being selfish, just this once.

I take a sharp breath and turn around, heading for the bridge.

This time they don’t follow, and despite getting what I wanted, a deep ache lingers.

I just hurt my children, and it feels awful.

I’ve never used their love for me against them before. What kind of mother does that?

I look up at the night sky, anger bubbling inside me.

Mother Fate could have given me someone—someone to hold, someone to love—but instead, I’m walking through the forest like some desperate fool.

It doesn’t take long to reach the bridge, and I pause once I get there, smoothing my hand over my forehead.

It’s sweaty from nerves. Thankfully, I packed some toiletries to freshen up.

The bridge is a five-mile walk, so I decide to head for the ferry to get a ride to the employee community, a gated area for humans who work on the tourist island.

The only problem is I’ll probably have to deal with Jax again.

“Need a ride?”

I cringe at the familiar voice. Amari. I pause at the bridge, wondering if I should just say fuck it and walk the five miles.

“Absolutely not,” I snap, turning around, groaning when I notice Damon standing beside him.

“Did you think I was joking when I said you would be chaperoned on this date?” Damon questions, flipping that damn coin in his hand.

His voice is calm but there’s a steel underneath it that I’ve rarely heard directed at me.

He’s not playing around. The way he stands—shoulders squared, eyes fixed on mine—tells me this isn’t a suggestion or a friendly offer.

It’s happening whether I like it or not.

I clutch my tote bag and storm over to them.

Amari’s eyes travel up and down my body, drinking me in.

But it’s different from the way other men have looked at me in the past—the few times anyone has looked at me at all.

It’s not just lust or curiosity or disgust. There’s appreciation there, yes, but also something deeper, more intense.

Like he’s memorizing every detail of me, from my wild curls to the freckles on my nose to the curves of my hips.

No one has ever looked at me that way before, like I’m something precious and rare.

“You look lovely, Carla,” he says, and it’s hard not to blush. The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. How does he do that? One minute he’s the most infuriating being on the planet, and the next he’s making me feel like the most beautiful woman in existence.

“You can’t chaperone me. You’ll ruin the date,” I argue.

“Not if we remain out of view,” Damon says, his tone calm, casual.

I can tell already I’m not getting out of this, and it’s pissing me off. Damon is getting on my nerves. Why does he have to play big brother right now? I’m trying to get laid. Do I want to do that with him and Amari lurking around, listening? Hell no.

Amari reaches out to move my curls from my face, but I slap his hand away.

“I said, no!” I snap, trying to stand my ground, but the look in Damon’s green eyes, the way he’s flipping his coin, the nonchalant expression on his face, tells me I’m beating a dead horse.

“If you want to go on this date, then you will accept the terms. You are a daughter of Wintermoon. And this isn’t a game, Carla,” Damon says.

His fingers tighten around the coin, and for a moment, I see genuine concern flash across his face.

This isn’t just him being controlling—he’s worried.

Actually worried about me. “You can always turn around and go back to your cabin and reschedule for another time.”

“Motherfucker!” I yell, so frustrated I want to punch something.

Or someone. Preferably Damon right now. I never asked for his protection.

I never asked for any of this. A thousand years taking care of myself and my children, and suddenly I need an escort?

But the resolve in his eyes tells me this isn’t negotiable.