Page 20 of Loving Amari
CARLA
His lips are on mine before I can take another breath. Desperate. Hungry. Amari lifts me off my feet, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds me against him. One arm bands around my back, crushing me to his chest. The other hand tangles in my hair, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss.
But something’s different. The way he’s holding me. Too tight. Like I might dissolve into smoke if he loosens his grip even a fraction. His hands tremble against my skin, and Amari never trembles.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along my jaw, down my neck, finding the claim mark and pressing his mouth there. A shudder runs through his entire body. Not desire. Something deeper. More raw.
“You’re here.” The words come out broken. “You’re really here.”
My chest tightens. I’ve never heard his voice sound like that. Shattered.
“I’m here.” My hands move to cup his face, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are wet, the gold swimming with unshed tears. “Amari, what?—”
He captures my mouth again, and this kiss is different. Slower. Deeper. Like he’s memorizing every curve of my lips, every sweep of my tongue. His thumb strokes my cheek, gentle despite the desperate way he’s holding me.
I can feel everything through the bond. The way his heart races, pounding against my chest. The relief flooding through him so intense it’s almost painful. But underneath it all, there’s something else. Something that tastes like grief.
What happened while I was gone?
His hands roam my back, my sides, like he’s checking to make sure I’m whole and unharmed. Every touch is reverent. Worshipful. Terrified.
I press my hands to his chest, gently pushing. He resists at first, his arms tightening around me, but then he loosens his grip. Sets me down carefully, like I might disappear if he’s not gentle enough.
His hands immediately reach for me again, as if he can’t stand not touching me. They settle on my waist, fingers pressing into my hips.
“What’s going on?”
There’s a wildness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Like he’s been pushed to the edge of something and is barely holding on.
Before I can answer, his whole body goes rigid. His head snaps toward the hallway, eyes narrowing to slits.
“Not to break up this cute little moment, but we’ve got bigger issues here.”
“Aya’s voice snaps out. “My nephew, granddaughter, and the children of Wintermoon are in danger.”
His gaze swings to Aya’s ghostly figure, then back to me. The look in his eyes makes my stomach drop. Betrayal. Confusion. Fear.
“Please don’t tell me you’re working with this monster of a witch.”
The word “monster” comes out like a curse. His hands drop from my waist. Cold rushes in where his warmth was.
I watch him turn to Tofi. Our daughter sends images flooding into the space between us. Me in limbo with Aya. Me defending Solomon.
“What the hell is going on?” Amari’s voice climbs. His hands curl into fists at his sides. “Someone from limbo is after Solomon?”
“Oh, it’s much bigger than that. Much bigger.” Aya says.
I step toward him, reaching out. My fingers brush his arm. “Please don’t antagonize my man.”
Aya laughs, sharp and cutting. “If it isn’t slut Amari trying to lecture me. The sheer number of women I’ve known you to run through. The world knows you’re a walking male tramp.”
Amari’s hands ball into fists, his fangs extending with an audible snick. Every muscle in his body coils.
“Amari...”
But he’s already moving. Vampire speed carries him across the room in a blur, fist drawn back. The rage rolling off him through the bond is suffocating. He swings with enough force to take someone’s head clean off.
His fist passes right through Aya’s ghostly form. He stumbles forward with the momentum, catching himself before he crashes into the wall.