Page 87 of Carved Obsession

She slowly shakes her head. “Tell me your preferredpoison,and I’ll tell you mine.”

She’s serious.But this is it, my opportunity to learn more about her.

“You know mine already.”

“Carving?” she asks, though it’s more rhetorical.

I nod.

“It’s long. Drawn out. Effective for extracting information.”

“It is,” I agree. “It’s useful, but it’s not why I do it.”

“Why, then?”

I reluctantly pull my cock out of her, ignoring her protest as I shift her to the side and rise to grab a towel, then sit down next to her.

“When I carve into them, when I flay them alive,” I say, pushing her thighs apart to wipe her clean, “it’s to observe the array of emotions passing through them. It’s fascinating to see which one settles in, because it’s always different. I do it to see their reactions to each one, to feel their screams against my eardrums and experience their fear, their regret, their desperation. It’s enthralling.”

She’s propped up on her elbows, observing me as I finish cleaning the blood and cum from us both. I throw the towel to the side, and she cocks her head, heavy with unspoken words. I feel analyzed.

I rise to my feet, then help her up. She silently protests when I nudge her into bed, grabbing the first-aid kit to gently clean the cut on my throat first. When she’s done, she happily jumps onto the mattress, lying patiently as I give each blanket a little shake before I lay it on top of her.

A strange sensation passes through my gut. It takes me a moment, but I identify the signs. I wish I wouldn’t, because this is vulnerability.I am feelingvulnerable.

A small shockwave ripples through me. Intense, yet oddly comforting in its novelty. I don’t push it back but embrace it as I slide into bed next to Scarlet. I wrap her in my arms, our legs a tangled mess.

“You don’t really feel much, do you?”

Her question echoes through the chambers of my mind.

“Not really, no.”

I expected her expression to change, for me to see some form of a negative shift in her features. But there’s none. She just nods.

“Does that bother you?” I ask.

She ponders for a moment. “Do you feel any emotions?”

“Complex emotions are foreign. I can understand anger, frustration, all those interesting ones yougracedme with lately. I can feel a sort of basic joy, satisfaction.”

“What about . . . um . . . care?”

“To a certain level. I understand that the people close to me are there for a reason. They would put their life in danger for me, so logically, I would do the same for them. They are my people, who I trust completely for all logical reasons, and maybe some illogical ones, so if this is care, then yes. I can feel care.”

She chews on her lip, blinking a bit more rapidly.

“Anything moreintensethan that?”

“Not yet.”

But I know the words are a lie before they even spill from my mouth. Blatant fucking lie. Because right here, with Scarlet wrapped tightly in my arms, unfamiliar,new, raw emotions riddle me to my fucking bones.

And goddamn it, they feel good.

Chapter 24

Scarlet