Chapter 2 Carla
CARLA
Amari holds my hand as we walk down the stairs of the castle, and I beam at the guards who bow before us as they head to their posts. The castle still feels surreal sometimes, this massive home he built for us, for our family. His thumb traces circles on my palm,.
The morning sun streams through the windows. The vast space isn’t empty or cold like I’d imagined castles would be. Amari made sure of that. Every corner holds warmth. Fresh flowers in crystal vases. Photographs of our life together lining the walls.
“What’s going on in limbo?” His voice cuts through my wandering thoughts.
“The usual.” I squeeze his hand, feeling the strength there, the careful control he always maintains around me. “Vertro making sure he gets my approval whenever he secures another human soul.”
We turn down the long hallway toward the kitchen.
The scent of fresh flowers fills the air from the arrangements Amari insists on having delivered weekly.
Roses, always roses, in every color imaginable.
He says they remind him of that first night he tried to win me over, covering my porch in bouquets.
“But there’s something bothering me,” I add.
He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it while his eyes appreciate my purple dress. The silk flows around my curves, and his gaze traveling over me makes heat rise in my belly. To him, I am the most precious thing in his world.
“What is it?” The kiss lingers against my skin, his lips cool but somehow burning.
“Aya Bailey.” The name tastes bitter on my tongue. “She’s in there, and it’s been almost two years.”
We reach the kitchen doorway, and I pause, gathering my thoughts.
“I know our children have run into her, but they haven’t caught her. Or...” I frown, working through the possibility that’s been nagging at me. “They won’t catch her. I’m trying to figure out which.”
“Do you think they’re bargaining with her?” He walks me to a chair at the island, pulling it out with that old-world charm he can’t seem to shake. Always the gentleman.
I protest immediately. “No, Amari. I’m supposed to be the one catering to you for a change.”
He fixes me with that look, the one that makes my knees weak even after all this time. It’s possessive and tender all at once, a combination that should be impossible but somehow isn’t.
“You cater to me by letting me worship you.”
Before I can argue, he kisses my cheek and lifts my hips, placing my ass firmly in the chair.
The casual display of strength, the way he moves me like I weigh nothing, still catches me off guard.
I giggle as he plants another kiss against my temple.
Then he’s gone, flashing to the other side of the island with vampire speed that still takes my breath away.
I watch him pull off his suit jacket. Even something as simple as removing a jacket becomes art when Amari does it.
He hangs it carefully on the back of a chair, then turns his attention to his sleeves, rolling them up slowly.
My vampire king, about to make me pancakes.
The domesticity of it makes my heart swell.
“Have you asked Moria and Kemnebi?” He pulls ingredients from the cabinets, already knowing exactly what I want for breakfast. Flour, eggs, milk, vanilla extract—he’s memorized my preferences down to the brand of syrup I prefer.
I shake my head, watching his hands work. “They’ve been weird in limbo too. More secretive than usual.”
The mixing bowl appears, flour and eggs coming together under his skilled hands. He cracks eggs one-handed, a show-off move that makes me smile. “Next time I go back, I really need to explore that.”
I can’t stop the words from coming. That itch to return to limbo pulls at me constantly now.
Being Queen of Limbo isn’t just a title.
It’s a calling that grows stronger every day.
But I know what my absence does to him. That’s why I stayed gone so long this time, trying to get everything done at once instead of making multiple trips.
His shoulders stiffen. The whisk pauses for just a moment before resuming its rhythm. Shit. He detected it in my scent, that longing to return to the other realm. Vampire senses are a blessing and a curse—I can’t hide anything from him.
“Amari, baby?”
He clears his throat, keeping his back to me while whisking the batter with more force than necessary. “Yes, baby?”
The false lightness in his tone breaks my heart.
He’s trying so hard to be supportive, to not be the possessive vampire who wants to keep me locked in his castle forever.
But I know the truth. Every moment I’m gone feels like agony to him.
The mate bond doesn’t work in limbo. I feel nothing while he feels everything, including my absence.
I slide out of the chair and cross to him, my bare feet silent on the cool floor. Wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, I press myself against his back. My head finds its place between his shoulder blades, breathing in his scent.
“It’s fine if you have to leave, baby.” His voice sounds hollow, like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
“No, it’s not.” I press closer, trying to infuse my love through the embrace. My hands spread across his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I may not be able to detect moods from scents like you can, but I know when you’re hurting. You’re my man.”
“I just miss you so much.” The admission comes out raw, vulnerable in a way that Amari rarely allows himself to be.
This powerful vampire, who commands respect from everyone he meets, who built an empire and rules his coven with iron control, reduced to missing me like a lovesick teenager. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.
“Then forget breakfast.” I untie his apron strings. “Turn around and show me.”
He sets the spoon beside the bowl carefully, then turns in my arms. The apron falls away as I help him pull it off, tossing it aside. The hunger in his eyes has nothing to do with food.
“Should we have even bothered getting out of bed?” His hands find my waist, fingers spreading possessively.
I shrug, trying for casual even as my pulse quickens. “If it weren’t for that weird magic glitch I had earlier...”
A growl rumbles from him—not threatening, but adorably frustrated. Before I can react, he lifts me onto the counter. The marble is cold against my thighs as my dress rides up. I yelp at the sudden movement, but he’s already stepping between my legs, caging me in.
“Amari? Right here?”
His grin turns wicked, that dangerous smile that promises I’m about to lose all ability to think. “Hell yes.” His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher. “You just offered me some pussy, so I’m gonna eat it.”
Heat floods between my legs at his crude words, even as a blush burns my cheeks.
Even after a almost two years, his directness about wanting me, claiming me, still catches me off guard.
He pushes my dress over my hips, bunching the purple silk around my waist. My panties are simple black lace.
I gave up wearing anything fancy when I realized he’d just tear them off anyway.
Those golden eyes lock with mine as his hands spread my thighs wider. The love there, mixed with raw desire, steals my breath. This is Amari at his most honest—wanting me, needing me, ready to worship me right here on our kitchen counter.
“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.
“I love you too.”
His kiss is passionate, consuming, claiming.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting, conquering, promising what’s to come.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
He drops to his knees before me, pulling me to the edge of the island.
The sight of him there, my king kneeling for me, sends a thrill through my entire body.
He slides my panties to the side with one finger, his touch leaving fire in its wake.
I cover my mouth with one hand, as if that will muffle anything in a castle full of vampires with supernatural hearing, and lean back on one elbow.
The position leaves me exposed, vulnerable, exactly how he wants me.
He lifts my legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.
The first touch of his tongue makes my eyes roll back.
Cool against my heat, he takes his time, running his tongue along my slit like he’s savoring a delicacy.
The contrast of temperature, the skill of his movements, the way he hums with pleasure like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted all combine to short-circuit my brain.
His grip on my hip tightens as he starts sliding me back and forth, forcing me to grind against his face. The controlled strength in his hands, the way he moves me for his pleasure and mine, makes me even wetter. He’s not just pleasuring me. He’s consuming me.
“Amari...” His name comes out as a whimper against my palm.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath cool against my sensitive flesh. “Nope.” He punctuates the word with another long lick. “Not stopping until you come on my tongue.”
Then he’s back at it. His tongue circles my clit before dipping lower, tasting me thoroughly. He knows exactly how to play my body, has memorized every spot that drives me wild.
“Goddamn, I love this pussy.” The words are muffled as he starts thrusting his tongue in and out, fucking me with it while his nose brushes against my clit.
The combination is devastating. My free hand tangles in his short curls, not guiding, just needing something to hold onto as he dismantles me with his mouth. He alternates between fucking me with his tongue and circling my clit, building a rhythm that has my thighs trembling against his ears.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages between licks. “Let me taste all of you.”