Page 102 of Cruel Dominion

Oh my god. Of me peeing on him.

I gave him a shove, but I was already looking at all the other tattoos, studying each one more closely than I ever had the opportunity to before.

On one arm there was a lion. The jellyfish. Shattered diamonds and a skull. A geometric pattern holding it all together.

On the other was a great ship with powerful sails pushing into a storm at sea. Waves crashed and the moon and stars glittered in between the angry clouds above.

I remembered the lyrics to a song I hadn’t allowed myself to listen to in six years.

I remembered telling Carter I wished I was strong enough to smash every diamond my father ever made me wear.

No. No way. He wouldn’t get tattoos for all those silly, meaningless things.

I stopped tracing the ink, a weight settling in my gut as I met his intent stare.

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. The ability we once had to communicate so much without saying a word was already coming back, and I could see the truth there in his eyes.

They’re all for you.

I swallowed hard.

You’re imagining things, Anna. Snap out of it.

Why would he do that after…

In my post-sex haze, with the phantom feel of him still in my most intimate places, I want to relive that. I pointed to another tattoo on his wrist.

“Brandy? I thought you were more of a whiskey man.”

It was a trap. I had a feeling it was a woman’s name, and I wanted him to admit it. It would make walking out of this dreamland and back to my cage a hell of a lot easier.

“It was my mother’s name,” he said quietly, and I felt like an idiot for forgetting. “I got that after she died.”

His expression shifted from blissful to a perfect neutral, like he was donning a mask.

I clasped his hand in mine. “When was that, exactly? How long after I…after I left?”

“Right before I turned 22. The treatment really worked for a while. We thought she was better. It looked like she was headed for remission and then…she wasn’t.”

Carter’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, purposefully staring away from me. I couldn’t imagine how huge the loss was for him. I knew his father was a piece of shit, but from what I knew, his mother was the calm in the storm. He used to say he never understood how someone as good natured and pure hearted as his mom could wind up with someone as vile as his father.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

He took a long, deep breath. “Tell me something else,” he said, changing the subject. “Something about your life while you were gone.”

I bit my lip. I knew Carter always doubted my cover story about charity work building houses, but I hadn’t come out and told him the truth myself, though I suspected he already knew. I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore; it was good, honest work. It was where I met anyone who gave a damn about me in St. Louis.

“I didn’t go to Malawi,” I said. “I went to St. Louis. I was a cocktail waitress at this member’s only club?—”

“—The Butterfly Room.”

“Of course. You already know everything.”

“Not everything. Did you like working there?”

I thought about it. “No. But I liked the girls I worked with, and the tips were really good.”

He drew circles on my shoulder, and I remembered how easy it was to just be with him in the silence. Now, with the shutters raised, I could hear the ocean clearly through the window and it reminded me how much I missed this.

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