Page 96 of Cruel Dominion

He shrugged. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. I want to tie myself to you in every way. In the ways that can’t be broken.”

Carter studied the frown on my face and set my leg down on the mattress, coming to lie next to me.

We lay together a long time in silence.

After a while, Carter untied me and gathered me into his arms. I was only distantly aware as he lifted me and carried me from the room, too spent to think anymore. He set me down on a plush chair and covered me with a blanket in an excessively large bathroom as he filled an equally obnoxiously sized tub.

He helped me into the water when it was ready and settled himself onto the rim. The bubbles smelled like ylang-ylang and vanilla. As if he’d known one day, somehow, I would be here in his house. In his tub.

I sighed, giving myself to the comforting warmth of the water. So, so tired.

“Stay the night,” he said, swirling his fingers in the water.

I didn’t reply.

“Please.”

His stormy eyes searched mine, and I felt myself let go.

“I’ll stay.”

His lips tugged up triumphantly.

“But tomorrow you’re taking me home. That’s the deal. I won’t trade one cage for another, Carter.”

He recoiled as if slapped, thinking.

“Alright. But your cell stays with you at all times.”

22

CARTER

“You feeling okay, Ma?”

I cracked the door open wide enough to look inside the room. The body-shaped lump on the bed didn’t move. I stopped, watching her until I could see the slight rise and fall of her breathing.

“Ma? You awake?”

She wasn’t. I knew she wasn’t. She was exhausted all the time again. I could leave for school and find her right there at the end of the day, after coming home from work, not knowing whether she moved at all the entire time.

I placed the bowl of chicken broth and the slices of soft toasted bread on the nightstand.

“Ma, wake up. You need to eat something.”

I stroked her hair, then gently shook her shoulder. Her bones poked through her clothes, the comforter, and into my hand. Her eyes squeezed tighter, making lines on her face that weren’t there even three months ago, then they opened, squinting at me.

“Carter?”

“No, it’s Pierce Brosnan, Ma, who do you think?” I asked.

She loved those old 007 movies. When she wasn’t sleeping or at the hospital for treatments, she was watching them on repeat, finding comfort with her favorite Hollywood heartthrob.

Ma smiled weakly, but her eyes closed again.

“You should really eat.”

“Just leave it on the nightstand,” she mumbled, her voice barely stronger than a whisper.

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