Page 40 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

Crashing onto the bed, I ask my speaker to play my favorite playlist at a soft volume as I stare at the ceiling. The light is dim, the color changed to red, and my spent body can’t even muster the strength to get under the covers.

I drag in a breath, holding it in for long enough to rid myself of this dull, lingering anxiety. My fists tighten around the sheet, and I attempt to pinpoint the root cause of it as I try some breathing exercises.

It doesn’t work. I’m not even sure it’s anxiety related. I’m just...unsettled.

All day was spent either with my family or in the hospital, getting professionally patched up and going through all the usual tests I’m required to go through.

It’s fucking exhausting. I’ve dreamed of my comfortable, fluffy bed since the moment I came back this morning, but now it’s not doing anything to relax me.

I need . . . something.

But I don’t freaking know what.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I sigh. My family’s probably checking up on me. I love them, but I’m not going to fucking break.

Yet, sometimes I really want to.

Enjoying your big, soft bed yet, kitten?

I brighten up in an instant. It’s not my family at all, but Carter. The number of times I wanted to text him today but held back. I don’t know what the social standard is for what we’ve done. But I’ve itched so bad all day.

Big beds are overrated.

No, not yet. You?

Me neither. Something’s missing.

A smile tugs at my lips, and I wanna squeal and kick my feet. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but fuck it, I’m gonna choose to believe I’m the one missing from his bed.

Is everything okay? Everyone okay?

Yes. Things are getting complicated, but yes.

How are you? Did you go to the doctor?

Okay, this is cute. He’s checking up on me.

If I’m reading too much into it, then my heart will be fucked.

Even Bernard wasn’t really that bothered with my health at the start.

He would say I’ve been living with my condition my whole life, no point making a fuss about it.

Granted, Carter knows nothing. Yet. But still.

Went. Got checked. Patched up, though they praised your skills and said there’s no trace of infection considering the circumstances. All good.

I hope you’re not just saying that for my benefit. If you need a better doctor, say the word.

Do you need a car?

Why? You gonna give me one?

I laugh as I type that text, and his reply comes instantly.

Yes.

I choke on my own spit and have to sit up to recover. Breaths saw out of my lungs as I reread that single word like the letters will magically change to “Don’t be fucking stupid. I was going to give you my dealer’s number.”

But they don’t change.

“Yes.” One word. Heavy with implications I must be reading too much into.

You’re quite familiar with one of them. ;) You can come see the rest and take your pick.

And don’t worry, GPS has been disabled on all of them. No one’s going to track you.

I burst out laughing, falling back on the bed and rolling as I hold my belly.

A very generous offer, sir. I’ll let you know if I’ll take you up on it.

Impressed to see you’ve learned your lesson.

I still have to teach you yours.

Blinking repeatedly, I clutch my phone tighter as deep in my belly, a fire stirs.

If you must. What would this lesson consist of?

A punishment.

Does it involve me dead and buried six feet deep out in the sticks?

It involves a spreader bar against your ankles, your wrists tied to the ceiling to keep you nice and immobile as I do whatever the fuck I deem appropriate to you.

My soul must have left my body because I’m looking down at my flushed face right now, at the desire sparkling in my eyes and the wanton need that fills me as I bite and lick my lips.

Well, I guess... if I must. Lessons are important, right?

Exceptionally important.

When would this lesson take place?

Tomorrow evening. I’ll give you the details tomorrow. But only if you’re a good girl and go to sleep now.

And if I don’t?

I’ll be the only one enjoying your lesson.

I must be sick in the head because that prospect intrigues me even more. He won’t kill me, I know that. He won’t beat me up like some wife-beater, either.

What would he do to me that only he would enjoy?

My phone vibrates in my hand as I daydream of horribly dirty things.

Sleep, kitten.

Maybe I wasn’t replying because I listened and fell asleep. You don’t know.

I do know. See you tomorrow, kitten.

Sleep tight, killer-boy.

Slowly, I slide under the covers, my lids finally heavy and chest light, and as I drift off to dreamland, I realize all the anxiety’s gone. But I don’t have time to process why as sleep takes me.

* * *

I run back inside my house on eager steps, holding tightly to the large, shallow square box the courier handed to me. The bronze silk ribbon looks beautifully decadent against the red, and I’m dying to crack it open.

I tried really hard to not wait around on Carter. I didn’t want to be that woman, waiting endlessly on a man.

Clearly, he also didn’t want to be that man, because he texted me mid-morning to tell me something’s coming at eight pm. It didn’t stop me from checking the time far too often all day.

He didn’t tell me what he planned, but I’ve been hoping tirelessly that those fantasies I’ve been plagued with, of pain and subdued violence, would come true.

Setting the box on the coffee table, I pull on the delicate ribbon and lift the lid. A white card sits on bronze tissue paper, my name written beautifully in cursive on it, and I turn it to find a short message.

Put this outfit on and be ready by 8:30pm. A car will come to pick you up for Metamorphosis.

Looking forward to your lesson.

Yours,

C

Mine . . .

I peel off the tissue paper, and on top of another layer sits something made more of straps than fabric.

I’m suddenly hot. I may have been to Metamorphosis a few times, but never have I worn something like this.

Revealing outfits that made me feel confident as fuck, yes, but never just. ..risqué lingerie.

I lift it via the bra straps and cock my head. Okay, it’s actually quite pretty. It’s a dark-red teddy made of lace and satin straps that I’ll have to figure out in a minute when I pull it on.

I lay it to the side as I remove the rest of the tissue paper to discover a heap of lace the same color as the teddy. When I lift it, I find the softest sheer lace dress I’ve ever touched. It’s a simple design, with an exposed back and a tie behind the neck.

I’m not sure what I expected when I read the note, but this is not it. Maybe I thought Carter would choose metal and leather. Something harsh. More...hardcore.

This is soft. Delicate. Elegantly depraved.

Like Midnight .

It makes sense, really.

I double-check the box, wondering if I’m missing a mask since they’re mandatory for Metamorphosis, but there’s nothing in there. I shrug and run into the bedroom with the items, less anxious now to try them out, since I know a dress will partially cover the lingerie.

It takes me a moment, but I pull the teddy on. I have to take a moment as I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m no stranger to sexy lingerie, and I’m familiar with the confidence it gives me, but nothing I own looks quite like this.

The lace triangles, tied with satin straps behind my back and neck, barely cover my breasts.

The crotchless lace panties are connected to the bra by satin straps that mimic a sunburst, gathered together at the top of the panties and spreading as they reach the bottom of the bra.

And the stark contrast between the dark-red garment against my creamy skin is striking.

With much more confidence, I pull the long dress on. The lace is slightly elastic and the cut quite relaxed, falling delicately over my hips. The fabric tightens toward my knees, then flares again until it reaches the floor. I quickly tie it behind my neck before I turn to the mirror once more.

My mouth falls open as I stare at myself.

The sheer dark-red lace melts into the teddy it lies on top of, clinging to my slight curves and looking almost liquid in its intricate, delicate pattern.

Because both the dress and teddy are lace of a similar pattern, you can’t even tell if I’m wearing underwear or not.

It’s making me stare longer to find its edges and shape.

When I turn, I notice how the open back falls until it reaches the small of my back, just above the top of the panties that don’t leave much to the imagination.

I can’t stop gawking at myself.

But within those beautiful feelings, doubt sneaks through. Carter’s good at this. Too good. How many before me have enjoyed this treatment?

Stepping back from the mirror, I sit back on the bed and clutch my hands on my lap, fiddling with my fingers.

He’s no saint, Scarlet. You’ve known this for a while. Seen it with your own eyes in the very place he’s taking you tonight. You wanted this. Now, here you are.

I take one deep breath, trying to embrace the voice of reason echoing inside my mind. I did. I’ve wanted this for so long. I was fucking ready to beg him to give me what I so desperately need.

He’s the only one I would trust to even attempt it.

A car pulls in at the end of my drive, and the driver calls the intercom on my gate as I brush my loose hair for the hundredth time.

“Here goes nothing,” I whisper to myself, swiping the crimson lipstick over my lips one last time before dropping it into my small satin satchel.

You better be eager and ready, love, because I’m going to fucking ruin you.

Carter’s text reaches me as the man who looks more like a gorilla than a driver pulls out of my street.

I’m ready.

What are your hard limits?

No electric shocks. No metal clamps. No needles. Oh, and no pumps.

Got it. Pick your safe words.

No safe words.

That’s not how this works and you know it.

Fine. Pumpkin. Don’t expect me to use it.

I see your lessons need to be much more intense than I thought.