Page 54 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

Tangled around each other, Carter holds me to his chest, where we occupy less than half of his ridiculous bed. Silence fell steadily after my third mind-blowing orgasm of the night. It’s comfortable. So comfortable that anxiety has been brewing inside me.

The little voice in my head started out no louder than a breeze, but now it whispers louder, ripping this moment away from me.

“Something’s bothering you.”

I flinch at his statement. “I’m fi—”

“I can tell, Scarlet.”

I sigh, pulling back slightly so I can see his beautiful face. He looks even better with unkempt hair.

“How?”

“You’ve tensed up, and your toes fidget like crazy.”

For fuck’s sake, leave it to my body to betray me.

“What is it?” he insists.

“It’s just something I’ve been putting off.

I shouldn’t have, I know. It’s so fucking unfair to you.

But...” I rise to sit next to him, folding my legs beneath me.

“I couldn’t let go of you, of how you make me feel, how I am when I’m around you.

I just needed a little bit more before I had to let it all go. ”

He frowns, his expression turning grave. “What the fuck are you talking about, Scarlet?”

I rub a hand over my forehead, then clutch my fingers in my lap as I take a deep breath.

“I want this. Us. Whatever this is. I want you so bad that I fucking ache every single day. My blood screams for you inside my veins, and sometimes I can’t stand it.

And again, it’s fucking unfair for me to confess this, but I need to get it out. ”

“Scarlet.” His growl is a rumbling warning.

“I can’t give you kids.” I sigh, the words a heavy load I’m relieved to let go of.

Now that they’re out, more come in waves.

“It’s not a fertility issue. I simply don’t want them.

My genes are wrong. As much as my condition sometimes feels like a superpower, and as different as I am from my mother, I cannot bring myself to risk cursing a child with this.

Or worse...with my mother’s sickness. ”

I take a deep breath, gathering more of my stray thoughts.

“I lied to you before. I don’t have a contraceptive implant.

I had a hysterectomy a few years ago. I made sure it would be impossible for me to get pregnant.

Since then, I realized I don’t want kids at all, even adopted.

They’re not an option for me. And I know this discussion is premature.

You might have not even thought of a future with me, but.

..it doesn’t matter. I just need you to know now, this is it.

This is all you get. Just me...I can’t offer you anything else. ”

When I end my word vomit, Carter rises slowly, his expression completely unreadable.

Any moment now, he’s going to tell me to fuck off out of his bed, out of his house, for forcing him to get close to me when I’m not willing to offer him this.

But I’ll never back down, no matter how much I want this man.

He grips my lower jaw between his thumb and index finger, dipping down and shocking me when he presses his lips to mine with such pressure. The kiss is bruising. Deep and charged with unspoken words with significant meanings I don’t yet understand.

Pulling back, his hand still on my face, he presses one last kiss to my forehead. “Thank you.”

“What?” I frown, confused.

“I didn’t know until now what that gnawing, sickening feeling inside of me was. It’s been eating at me for days...maybe longer. It has grown roots I haven’t been able to rip out. But I understand now.”

My eyes sting, vision blurring as tears form and my throat tightens. I thought I was ready for this. Goddamn it, I was wrong.

Carter brushes a finger over the contour of my cheek, his lips shifting into a soft, slight smile. “I don’t want any children either, Scarlet.”

Like a punch to the gut, the breath expels out of me, and the tears that drop onto my cheeks no longer come from fear.

“Are you serious?” I ask, clutching his face in my hands. “You’re not just saying it? For me?”

He shakes his head. “That feeling eating at me seems to have been...worry. Fear. Probably for the same reason you’ve been afraid to confess this. I understand now, and whatever this is between us, I see it clearer.”

“Oh god!” I exclaim, rushing to crush my lips against his in a bruising kiss I break only to pepper all over his face.

His chest shakes with a silent snicker.

“Why no kids?” I ask, curiosity taking over.

He shrugs and lies back on the bed, folding an arm to brace it behind his head.

“They’re not my thing. I’ve been around them, so the opinion is informed.

Finnigan has his girlfriend’s little sister, who they had to legally adopt, and Ronan, his brother, has Aaro, his boy.

I found that I can’t connect with a child beyond pleasantries.

The appeal isn’t there. The patience or understanding either.

They’re just these small creatures I’m waiting to grow a brain so I can have a rational conversation. ”

I was too focused on men’s biological needs and failed to apply that theory to Carter. Though I can still see him as a father to some degree, the alternative makes much more sense, considering his inability to properly process emotions or empathy.

“I didn’t think about it that way at all, but taking into account your personality, I can see now how kids might have a hard time fitting in.”

“Yes, my personality certainly has something to do with it. My blood too.” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “You’ve been honest with me, so logically, I owe you the same.”

I shift slightly, getting more comfortable as my confusion grows.

“My reasons are similar to yours. My genes are rotten. My father was the only good one between us three, and even he died of a disease that can be congenital. I’m comfortable with the way I’m built, with how my mind works, because I physically don’t know anything else.”

He pauses, gaze unfocusing for a few moments that allow too much worry to build inside of me.

“But there are times, rare times, when I’m surrounded by my brothers, our friends, and in their eyes, I see a spark.

I saw it in you too, with your family, this glimmer that spreads over your skin, brightening every fiber that forms you.

That feeling is not hard to recognize—happiness.

One that can only come from the ability to feel things that I will never fully understand.

And in those moments, that hollowness within me becomes more noticeable. ”

That makes me feel so sad for him.

“It would be unfair to impart this feeling. I may consider myself at an advantage, like you do, but I won’t risk spreading this to others.

So, years ago, I got a vasectomy, but even those can fail sometimes, which is why I still like to make sure to wear a condom or that my partners use contraception. ”

He ends that deep confession in such a clinical tone, I’m startled.

“Funny...You can’t feel the emotional pains, and I can’t feel the physical ones. Both advantages we would never want to curse others with.”

He nods. “And then, just as with you, there’s my mother.

..” His tone doesn’t shift from its almost monotone quality, but it’s the way he trails off that straightens my spine to attention.

“She used to drag me to church every Sunday when I was a small boy. She became more unsettled and forced Wednesday on me too. Then Friday. I understood later on that it was because of me.”

He pauses for a few moments, gaze lost in a memory he’s not sharing.

“The older I got, the deeper her beliefs burrowed, and the more evil she saw in me. Her faith turned radical, her Christianity a fully formed extremist beast that held no sense of logic. She didn’t believe that I, her son, was evil.

She was convinced evil existed within me, a creature controlling me, taking over.

And where there’s one, there are many. She found the right fanatic wack jobs to fuel her delusions.

Priests who convinced her they could get the evil creature out. ”

“No...” I whisper, hoping this confession isn’t going where I think it is as worry for that little boy tightens around my heart.

“I was too young, somewhat sheltered, and didn’t fully understand what they were doing to me. The tightly tied ropes, the Latin chants, the crucifixes they waved around, and the water they kept splashing me with were simply confusing. Slightly annoying. I don’t even remember being scared.”

I watch every twitch in his features, every wrinkle forming as he recounts the horrendous things he experienced as a child, yet none betray emotions he may be hiding.

Maybe all I really want is to stare into a mirror.

Maybe I’m hoping that, despite everything I know of him, he does actually feel something.

That he is, in fact, affected. But he continues his recount in the same calm voice, with the same relaxed expression, not one shift in his perfectly set features.

“It wasn’t long until I began to understand.

When the violence escalated and started leaving marks on my body.

Of course, none of it worked. The evil was still within me, and she saw more of it every day, overtaking me.

When the priest’s exorcisms proved ineffective, she took matters into her own hands.

She was so far gone by that point. Delusions convinced her that water is what cleanses us, washes off our sins through baptism, and sends the evil away.

More than once, she forced me into the tub, taking matters into her own hands until the water breached my airways. ”

“She was fucking drowning you?” I hate that I interrupted him, but the outrage tears through me, viciously stinging my eyes and tightening my chest.

“As she told my father when he caught her and found out everything, she was, in fact, cleansing the evil out of me. Of course, there was no demon, no despicable creature, no foreign evil. It’s always been me.”

And there, with that last statement, there’s a small crack in the mask. A strain in his eyes, many more blinks than necessary, gaze flickering, yanking at my heart.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” He turns to me as a tear slides down my cheek. He watches it, following its path before reaching over to capture it. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he sucks my sadness between his lips, attempting to make it go away.

“What’s funny?” My voice trembles.

“How powerless we find ourselves before our parents. How much we want to trust them.”

My gaze drifts into nothingness, shoulders slumping as his words sink in, along with the countless memories weighing them down.

“What happened after your dad found out?”

“He kicked her out without a second thought. She’s with some cult somewhere. The wrong parent died, unfortunately.”

My heart breaks for him, even if his is made of stone.

“I can’t believe she tried to exorcise you. You w-were just a little boy...”

Carter shrugs like it’s all dust in the wind. Experiences that happened to someone else, not his own tragic background. It fucking infuriates me. But most of all, it fills me with horrible sadness.

I climb onto him, regardless of how detached he is, and slide my hands under his neck.

I wrap myself around him. Maybe he doesn’t need this, maybe he just doesn’t know he does, but I certainly do.

I bury my face in the soft crook of his shoulder, spilling tears for both him and me, for the parents who failed us, for the people who didn’t know what was being done to us, and for the childhoods tainted by madness.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,” I whisper against his warm skin.

Seconds flow one by one, each lighter than the one before. His arms wrap around my body and startle me. I squeeze him harder. And so does he, his breaths falling heavier after the shift in his rigid soul. Maybe it’s for me, but hopefully a little bit for himself too.

If all our other moments before didn’t cement my feelings, this one etched them in every inch of my being. He may not be able to give me his, but Carter Pierce has my heart.