Fable of Happiness Book Two

by Pepper Winters

  My clean body.

  A body that only wore a pair of navy boxer briefs. Skin that’d been washed. Wounds that’d been tended to. Hints of her handiwork. Blatant signs she’d dressed me like a child, nursed me like an invalid, and had been there for every fissure of my heavily fractured psyche.

  Soft fingers in my hair.

  Gentle whispers in the dark.

  Female strength half guiding, half carrying me to the bathroom.

  I choked.

  Fuck.

  This girl had seen me at my absolute weakest.

  She’d been witness to whatever hallucinations I’d endured. She’d stood over me while I was unconscious...touched me without my permission.

  Christ.

  I wanted to be sick.

  No one.

  Not even Quell, Zanik, or Wes had ever seen me so weak.

  I’d always been the strong one—the one who screamed in his sleep but never shed a single fucking tear while awake.

  I couldn’t—

  My mind swam, black filth blending with fists and kicks and blood.

  I was alone when I finally decided to live instead of die.

  My eyes opened painfully, eyelashes sticky and struggling to lift as dried blood cracked and crumbled. I was cold, lying in a puddle of piss and other unmentionable waste.

  I didn’t move to begin with. I hovered in a space of existing and fading, trying to gather the will to survive.

  It was a while before I finally managed to crawl on my hands and knees, every piece of me bellowing in pain. Time splintered again, slipping into nothing until I had the strength to crawl up the basement steps and into the kitchen.

  My hollow stomach howled for food, but when I raided the pantry, I vomited it all back up again. I lived in a vicious cycle of eat, vomit, pass out, try again.

  Days after days of agonizing sameness.

  One foot in death and one in life, unable to find the strength to move forward.

  I had no clock or calendar to know how much time had passed.

  I had no one to ask who I was or why I was all alone.

  I couldn’t remember anything.

  Not a single, tiny thing.

  I was a stranger.

  A mystery.

  Alone.

  I pinched the brow of my nose with my good hand, no longer willing to be a little puppet for my scrambled mind.

  Goddammit, no more.

  With a heavy exhale, I gathered up the slithers of memories, snatched up recollections, and erased all emotion from the past. They all went into a box. And that box went into the sea. And that sea held monsters that devoured them until I had nothing in my head but her.

  Gemma.

  My prisoner who thought she could manipulate and control me.

  I had to admit. She’d done a better job than any of the mistresses in my past. No one else had made me feel. No one else made my heart kick or body harden for her touch.

  She was my enemy.

  It was time she relearned her place.

  Turning on the ball of my foot, I ordered my wobbly, bruised legs to walk out of the library, up the stairs (breathing hard and condemned to multiple breaks to gather strength), and into the bedroom where my trespasser had demanded a toilet and shower.

  There, on the bed, was the leather cuff I’d stolen from Storymaker’s closet.

  A leash that’d been used on all of us more than once.

  A leash that would now be hers.

  Snatching it from the covers, I dragged it over the carpet, the leather hissing behind me. My strength rapidly dwindled. My eyelids threatened to shut. My mind held autumn leaves and bracken.

  I just wanted to sleep.

  The ringing in my ears upset my balance. The fuzziness of my vision made me tired. The throbbing in the back of my skull hinted my broken arm wasn’t the worst of my injuries.

  Touching the bump on my forehead from where she’d hit me with the shovel, I stiffened when I found none. No bump. No cut.

  How much time had passed since that day and this?

  What did it mean that I still suffered a concussion? One that seemed to have the power to steal, not just hours but days from me.

  Gritting my teeth, I shoved away my questions, commanded my body to stay lucid for just a little longer, and tripped my way down the stairs to the library.

  My steps were no longer coordinated as I stumbled over the threshold, back into a room full of paper words and fictional worlds. I crashed against the doorframe, the bookshelves spinning, my mouth turning sour with sickness.

  I kept my swirling attention on the girl still sleeping on the floor.

  Had she heard me buckle against the door? Was she still unconscious or just faking? If I went over there, would she pounce on me again? Would she use my weakness against me like she’d done ever since she’d pushed me off the fucking cliff?

  Bits and pieces came back to me.

  Her tying a rope around my wrists.

  Her apologizing but still trapping me like all the others.

  It didn’t matter that she’d tended to me. Storymaker himself had given me drugs and overseen my healing when a guest had grown particularly cruel.

  My health was valuable to him. I had to stay alive to do his bidding. We all did.

  She’s the same.

  I didn’t think she’d found my valley by accident after all. I bet it was all planned. Her trespassing on my home, her running so I’d follow, her skills at climbing and knots and ropes, giving her the chance to push me into the sky.

  Had I foiled her plans by surviving, or had I only played into her hands?

  Now, I was broken in places and concussed in others.

  I was easy prey.

  Or so she thinks.

  Rage flowed through my veins, granting me the power to push off the doorframe, cross the room, and tower over her.

  Even if she was faking, so what?

  She was small compared to me. Regardless of her unnatural strength; despite her stamina and knowledge that kept putting her above me in every possible way...she was still mine.

  And I was done letting her think our roles existed in any other direction.

  Dropping to my knees, I shoved off the blankets, snatched her leg, then lashed the cuff tight around her ankle.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “WHAT THE—” I SWOOPED upright, my head swimming, sleep clinging to my thoughts. “What are you doing?!” My voice slurred, my reactions slow like syrup.

  “Did you enjoy playing queen of the castle?” Kas snarled, his fingers working quickly around my ankle. “I hope you did because now it’s time to go back where you belong.”

  I struggled. “What are you doing?!”

  I tried to pull my leg out of his control.

  And then I saw the leather cuff being buckled around my ankle.

  “No!” I threw myself forward, limber from years at contorting myself on boulder faces, pushing ligaments to their extreme. “Don’t you dare!” Grabbing his hand, I jerked his fingers away, leaving the buckle still undone.

  Triumph filled me only to die a useless death as Kas launched himself at me.

  I wasn’t expecting it.

  I’d spent almost two weeks at his bedside, nursing a man who could barely move without grimacing and passing out from pain. His explosive savagery caught me unaware, shoving me onto my back and planting a fist between my breasts.

  Automatically, I wrapped my hands around his wrist, fumbling over the splint, recognizing the pain in his eyes from using an arm that wasn’t whole. The second my touch locked around his heated violence, he shivered.

  His eyes went black, his shoulders bristled, the spark of tinder ignited, coaxing a flame from embers, shoving us back into the forest fire that never failed to roar between us.

  I couldn’t catch a proper breath—partly from the pressure of his fist on my sternum and mostly because of the unmistakable need drowning in his stare.

  “I suggest you yield,” Kas growled. “Don
’t make me knock you out like you did me.”

  “I didn’t knock you out—”

  “I’ve never liked liars.” His fist spread out over my chest, splaying burning fingers over the swell of my breasts. “My second suggestion is you shut the hell up.” His eyes flashed as his thumb touched my nipple.

  Accident or not, I shivered like an idiot.

  Really, Gem!?

  Common sense swiftly shut down any inklings of lust. I tightened my hands on his splinted wrist. “Let. Me. Go.” I added heat and anger with a fair dose of haughtiness. “I won’t ask again.”

  “Keep asking all you want. You’ll just keep getting the same answer.” He bent over me, his nose kissing mine. “The chances of you being free again are zero.”

  I gulped at the raw honesty on his ferally handsome face. The blatant cruelty in his bottomless, hollow-hallowed eyes. If I hadn’t witnessed him breaking apart in this very room, if I hadn’t washed his brow free from nightmare-sweat, and curled up beside him as he’d screamed in the dark, I would’ve shrunk into nothing and accepted that this was how I died.

  This man could snuff out my life with a single finger.

  He believed he owned me.

  Unfortunately for him, I’d seen his secrets, I’d listened to his suffering, and I couldn’t be afraid of someone who desperately needed to be understood. To be given a chance to work through his torment. To trust someone to help instead of hurt.

  That was the main problem.

  The biggest one I’d surmised while he’d woken in fits and spurts over the past week. He’d suppressed far, far too much. He’d swallowed every shitty memory, ignored every scar—he’d hidden his true self so deep, deep inside him only layers existed now.

  Violent layers.

  Bloodthirsty and desperate, ungovernable and disturbed layers.

  All of them could snap and hurt me, I knew that. But I was also willing to gamble that the sweet man who’d begged for happiness last night and the boy who’d kissed me last week were still inside him, quiet and unlistened to, kneeling in the wasteland of his past.

  “We need to talk.” Doing my best to keep my temper, I arched up and looked over his shoulder. “As equals.” Kicking my leg, I tried to jostle off the unfastened leather.

  Rearing off me, he grabbed my knee, digging his fingers around the sensitive joint. “Hold still.”

  I ignored him, kicking as much as I could with him pressing my leg into the blankets. “Look, you’ve just woken up. Truly woken up for the first time in almost two weeks. I get that this is probably overwhelming. I can’t imagine what sort of horrors you’ve been reliving while lying here. But you have to trust me—”

  “Trust you?” He laughed so coldly, so darkly, my shivers turned to terrified quakes. “I’ll never trust you. Two weeks? You say I’ve been in and out of consciousness for two fucking weeks, and you think...what? That I’ll bow at your feet in gratefulness for keeping me alive?” His fingers dug deeper. “You’re the one who did this to me.”

  “I didn’t do this to you. Not at all. I’m trying to save you!”

  “So you deny being the reason I have the worst fucking headache and can’t keep my thoughts straight?”

  “No, I’m not denying that. You fell.”

  He laughed. “Fell, huh?”

  I winced but pushed onward. “I might have had a role to play in your current agony, but I’m also the one who looked after you.”

  “Did I ask for a nursemaid?”

  “No, but you certainly needed one!”

  “Only because you threw me off the goddamn cliff!”

  “It was an accident!”

  “Yeah, right.” Shifting on his knees, he reached for my ankle again.

  “No, wait.” I sat up, trying to push him away. “You don’t have to tie me up.” I licked my lips, forcing myself to add. “We have so much to discuss. I’m-I’m not going to escape.”

  “That’s what you think I’m afraid of?” He rolled his eyes, hissing under his breath as he swayed.

  “If not that, then why—”

  “You’ve taken all the liberties you’ll ever take with me.” Shaking his head, he snatched and fumbled with the cuff.

  “Stop that.” I kicked. Hard. “I didn’t take any liberties. I cared for you! I told you I’m not going anywhere because I would never leave someone who needs help.”

  “Help?” He snorted. “Yeah, you’re the one who needs help.” He was prepared for my fight, his fingernails latching into my delicate flesh, holding me firm.

  “You need me more than I need you, believe me.” I kicked again, sucking in a breath at his grunt of pain. The pain of his broken arm. “Don’t do this. Stop it. Just calm down for a second.” Habits born from the past ten days split me with two desires. He was my patient. I was in charge of his welfare. But he was also being a total jackass who needed reminding that I wasn’t someone he could trap.

  Not again.

  “Hey!” Launching upright, I fought him. “Just listen to me. That isn’t necessary!”

  He shifted, putting his body between me and my leg, something gold flashed in his fingers.

  “Stop it!” I kicked and wriggled. I scratched his naked back and did my best to push him off...but it was too late.

  I felt the imprisonment before I saw it. Condemned with the tightening of leather, the click of a buckle, and the snap of a padlock locking into place.

  The moment the leash was around me, he backed off.

  He dropped my leg, shoved himself away from me, and drew his knees up while sitting on his ass. With a groan, he dropped his head between his legs, breathing hard, suffering thanks to his concussion.

  I flatly refused to feel sorry for the bastard.

  I let all my anger, my tiredness, and my need to go home infect my voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I fumbled at the cuff around my ankle, yanking on the padlock. “Give me the key. Let me go this instant.”

  He pursed his lips, his skin graying.

  He didn’t reply.

  I sat stewing, rage hissing through me. “You can’t do this. Not after—”

  “Stop moaning for one bleeding second.”

  I bristled. “I’ll stop when you do the right thing and let me go.”

  He glowered at me under his brows, his jaw clenched and long hair wild around his cheeks. “Just like you did the right thing and pushed me off a cliff?”

  Stiffening, I stuck my nose in the air. “I already told you. I didn’t do it intentionally.”

  “Oh, no?” He grimaced, trying to grin but still too sick to master it. “Could’ve fooled me. My body feels as if you did your very best to kill me.”

  “I’m sorry, okay. Eternally sorry for what I caused. But do you honestly think if I tried to kill you, I’d still be here?” I crossed my arms, grateful for the warm sunlight pouring into the library. Dust motes danced in the pinkish rays, glittering on bronze bindings of ancient books. “I dragged you inside, you idiot. I—”

  “You felt guilty for killing me, that’s all.” He dug his good hand into his hair, massaging his head. “Nothing more.”

  “Gah, you’re the most infuriating, pig-headed idiot I’ve ever met.”

  He shrugged as if he didn’t care what I thought of him.

  The urge to attack him flowed in my veins.

  I’d gone to sleep with him wrapped around me, protected and safe. I’d woken to him dragging me out of sleep and once again treating me as his prisoner.

  Argh!

  I glanced at the cuff.

  I should’ve run when I had the chance.

  Both of us breathed hard, ignoring each other.

  With quietness came a smidgen of propriety. I forced myself to remember all I’d learned about this man. The book of fables on prison-style single beds. The scribbles on the walls from children who’d been used to satisfy monsters.

  If anyone was entitled to act like a bastard, it was Kas.

  I just had to use the calm
approach and not let him scare me into aggression. Dragging my legs up, I sat in a cross-legged position, cursing the bite of leather, and ignoring the fact that he grabbed the leash as it slithered over the blankets when I moved.

  He clutched it tight, an unwanted but highly obvious link between us.

  It seemed Kas had finally woken.

  His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, and his concussion had receded long enough for him to remember who I was. As far as he recalled, I’d trespassed, gotten on my knees for him, allowed him to fuck me in the rain, then dragged me back to his lair like a beast.

  Silence reigned between us, screaming with tension the longer we stewed in mutual dislike.

  I’d wished for this day to come. Begged for the moment he was lucid enough that I could leave and get help. But now that he was back to his old self, I remembered why I didn’t like him very much. Why we fought like enemies. Why I’d done my best to guard myself against him.

  I’d almost forgotten how monstrous he could be.

  Almost.

  Well, he’s done a spectacular job of reminding me.

  “I won’t put up with this, you know,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the blanket bunched in my fists. “This is the thanks you give me for looking after you? If it is, it’s no surprise that your family didn’t come back—”

  Oh, shit.

  What happened to the calm approach?

  Slowly, he tipped his head up, his entire body going alarmingly still. “What did you just say?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” I huffed, allowing honesty to infuse my apology. “You’ve made me angry. That was harsh. Way, way too harsh. I don’t know why I said that. That isn’t me at all.” I snorted under my breath. “It seems you bring out the worst in me, but that isn’t an excuse. Especially knowing what I know—”

  Gem, quiet for God’s sake!

  His head tilted to the side like a dangerous raptor. “Know what exactly?”

  Wonderful.

  I was determined to die today.

  Bracing my shoulders, even though all I wanted to do was bury under the blankets, I replied, “I know enough.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits, hiding his endless pain. “Know enough about what?” He shuddered, swaying on the spot, his forehead furrowing as he fought to stay awake.