Page 13 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

The taste of salt in the air is one of my favorite things about Queenscove.

That, and the rocky beach and cliffs at the westernmost part of the cove, where it curves out into the ocean.

It’s popularly called the Jurassic Crest because of the number of fossils and prehistoric bones that can be found there.

Especially when bits of the cliff break away.

After I moved here, the walks I took on that rocky terrain in search of pieces of natural history grounded me.

Once my divorce is finalized, I’ll go there with a bottle of expensive champagne and celebrate. All by my fucking self. That is, unless Carter Pierce makes good on his word and offs me.

“What are you daydreaming about?” Willow asks from the sunbed next to mine, hiding from the sun under her big beach hat.

“The future.” I shrug.

She drops her sunglasses an inch and regards me with a cocked brow. “Don’t fall into melancholy, please. Today has been a surprisingly good day.”

It has indeed. We came to the beach early in the morning, lounged, read, drank, and swam with no care in the world. Willow is good like that, especially on that one day a month that marks yet another one that has passed since my life took a turn.

She doesn’t do it because I’m sad about what happened.

Yes, it was a betrayal, one that still stings, but at this point, my ego is the bruised one, not my heart.

Willow tries to distract me from the annoying passage of time so I can try to forget I’m still tied to that cheating, blackmailing bastard.

“Shall we go for lunch now?” I ask. “Albeit a late one? I’m starving, and I’m almost dry.”

“Yes, let me just pack these away. We’re going to The Shack, right?”

It’s the seafood restaurant at the edge of the beach, next to the best ice cream place in town. I might treat myself after lunch.

I rise, throwing my almost see-through beach dress over my two-piece bathing suit, and quickly pack everything into my beach bag.

We walk through the hot sand for the ten minutes it takes to reach The Shack and climb the three steps onto the wooden terrace overlooking the beach.

The pergola is covered in white veil-like fabric, and climbing plants circle every pillar, contributing to the cozy vibe.

But the food is the true star of the show. Fresh catches, delicious pairings, and yet, for some reason, it’s not the most popular seafood place in the city. It’s my freaking favorite, though.

“I have a craving for lobster. Want to share?” Willow asks.

“Sorry, babe. I haven’t stopped thinking about the seafood soup. I’m gonna go for that.”

“Ugh, you spoil my fun. But fine, I’ll sacrifice my stomach and order a whole thing for myself.” She feigns hardship as she sighs.

Snickering, I rise. “Can you order an iced tea for me, please? I’m just going to go wash my hands.”

“Sure.” She nods as she looks through the menu.

I slide my sandals on and hurry through the open double doors inside the beach-themed hut, then straight to the bathroom on the other side.

After I do my business, I stare in the mirror as I wash my hands, noticing the blush over my nose, cheeks, and forehead.

Faint freckles pop up, too. I should have been stricter with the damn SPF.

“Oh wow, I love that dress,” a redheaded woman with wild, natural curls exclaims as she turns back from the hand dryer.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, appreciating her enthusiasm.

“Where from, if you don’t mind?”

“Are you a tourist?”

“No,” she says, laughing like I said something totally ridiculous.

Something about her feels awfully familiar. Maybe she visited Carmen’s shop when I happened to be there.

“Then you know the secondhand-vintage shop on Hyacinth Lane?”

“Oh yes. Damn, you’re lucky. It’s so hard to snag the good pieces,” she says as she moves to leave.

“I know, which is why I took this off my mom after she bought it.”

“Oh, that’s good! I like that!” she says, laughing right along with me just before she walks out the door. “Bye!”

I wave and smile. I swear this encounter gave me déjà vu from my university days, clubbing and striking one-night friendships with random girls in the bathroom. Usually over a cute lipstick or painful shoes.

The delicious scent of good food and the salty sea smacks into me as I walk out of the ladies’ room and make my way through the busy restaurant.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a spot of red, and I turn to find the woman from the bathroom.

She’s laughing and gesturing at the people sitting around her table.

Like the calm before a storm, all noise ceases, and all but one person blurs before me. Because there, at the same table, right across from her, sits Carter Pierce.

“I’ll be damned,” I mutter to myself, feeling the tug of a smile at my cheeks.

He’s with a few other people, and as my feet remember they have to keep moving before I start drawing attention, I catch a glimpse of them all.

I recognize each of them from the research I’ve done into Carter.

Maddox Severin, Finnigan Hennessey and his purple-haired girlfriend, Evelyn Shaw, and Vincent “The Serpent” Sinclair.

The ball finally drops as I realize the redhead is his wife, Morrigan, former O’Rourke, part of one of Queenscove’s elite families. Though only she and her brother stand today.

I’m only steps away from the door leading onto the terrace, but that burning ember inside my soul sends sparks of unfulfilled recklessness, and I feel compelled to oblige.

I spin on my heels, stoking that ember until little flames ignite, and turn my smile into a devious grin as I walk right over to that table.

He’s not facing me, so I get the pleasure of seeing his profile, looking as if it’s carved from stone. His palms rest on his thighs as he quietly observes his friends.

But like any predator would, he senses my approach and turns, hazel eyes widening when they fall on me. My steps almost falter at his reaction, but I hold on to that reckless desire to catch the man off guard and walk until I’m only a few steps away.

“Mr. Pierce, good afternoon. What an absolute delight to run into you here.” I greet him with my most charming smile, and the whole table turns their attention to me.

His gaze narrows and flickers toward his friends for a fraction of a second before he graces me with a strained, yet polite, nod.

Last time he saw me, his blade was on my throat, leaving that sliver of a cut his eyes flicker to now.

This moment right here is so fucking precious, I can barely contain my elation.

“Apologies for disturbing you.” I address him, then swipe my gaze over the group, noting the surprised redhead. “I just saw you from across the room and thought it would be very rude of me not to say hello.”

There’s a brief pause when I actually doubt my actions, a slight awkwardness creeping in.

“Indeed. I hope you’re enjoying your day at the beach.” He finally speaks, all but spilling venom through that smoky tone.

I cock my head an inch, trying to ignore how he attempts discretion as his gaze roams down my body like he’s mapping every inch of it beneath the sheer beach dress. Then he slams those beautiful eyes back onto mine.

“Very much so, thank you. After all, life is short and all that.” I don’t even try to hide the sarcasm.

“For some, shorter than others.” He raises an eyebrow, mature creases forming on his forehead.

A crooked smile is all I give him in response before I turn to the others. “Here I am, talking about rudeness, and I haven’t even introduced myself.”

He shifts uncomfortably, chair scraping across the wooden floor as he clears his throat.

“I’m Scarlet Brasa-Glass. Nice to meet you all.” I ignore him.

The redhead lets out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a yelp, while the others manage to maintain their composure, though not without exchanging surprised looks before they greet me politely.

He’s told them about me.

“Scarlet, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I feel this crazy need to ask you of your intentions, like I’m a parent meeting my daughter’s new boyfriend. Only, well...you know.” Morrigan speaks, eyebrows raised in both amusement and raw need to protect those she loves.

I cannot contain my laughter at her honesty as her husband gently rubs his temple with his pointer finger, holding in whatever line would have probably undermined his wife in public. But there’s a lovely hint of pride in the black pits of his eyes. I like him already.

“Jesus fuck,” Carter whispers, showing just a hint of exasperation, and I find his reaction so damn amusing.

“None of the intentions you’re implying. If I had any, I wouldn’t have waited six months to do something, until dear Mr. Pierce randomly saw me on the street.” I shrug, holding the smile.

“I’m sure you can understand why it’s a bit difficult for us to believe that,” Finnigan Hennessey says.

“Actions, or lack thereof, speak louder than words in this situation. Right?” I ask.

Someone grunts, but my attention is back on Carter, caught in that hypnotic gaze that reminds me of carnivorous plants. Utterly beautiful, yet undoubtedly deadly.

Slowly, I bend over as he holds himself perfectly still, until the heat of his cheek radiates against mine and my lips are a breath away from his ear.

“I was a good girl for you all this time,” I whisper for only him to hear, “and you hurt my feelings, killer-boy.”

I rise, taking in his clenched jaw, one tensely raised brow, and the feral look in his eyes. My gaze flickers toward the terrace, and I take a small step back, turning to address the whole table.

“Oh, it looks like my food just arrived.” I enthusiastically rub my palms together. “Apologies for interrupting your lunch. It was nice meeting you all. Mr. Pierce...maybe we’ll meet again.”

Without waiting for an answer, I spin on my heels and walk away, a little bounce of glee in my step. A mad giddiness runs rampant through my nerves, and I have to suppress a screech of adrenaline.

A soft gasp leaves my throat as a cool hand wraps around my right wrist. I stop next to a wooden column, shells and dried flower garlands falling in waves around it, as a distinct shadow looms over me.

His body feathers against mine, and deep notes of bergamot, lavender, and something different.

..fresh, but spicy...envelop me. Drown me.

“Pepper . . .” I whisper to myself.

I shove down the little voice inside my head that begs me to lean into him again.

“Good girls don’t make a scene like you just did, kitten.” His growly whisper turns my nerves to bolts of lightning. “There’s no doubt about it and zero choice for you—we will meet again.”

And just as quickly as he appeared behind me, he’s gone. His scent evaporates, but his heat already penetrated my soul.

I’m rather shocked at the amount of words he spoke to me.

I don’t turn to look at him. I’d rather not humor him or feed into his ego. Instead, I hold on to the electrifying sensation peppered over my skin and walk toward the terrace.

I may have a problem—his threats are becoming addictive. Enticingly so.