Fable of Happiness Book Two

by Pepper Winters

  There was a lesson in that; I was sure of it.

  But rubbing my throat where his fingers had strangled me, yet again, I wasn’t quite ready to accept it. Regardless of his past, I wasn’t the one who’d hurt him. Therefore, he shouldn’t hurt me in return.

  In the same context then, that rabbit (who’s probably never seen a human in its life) shouldn’t have feared us. It hadn’t known pain at our hands or seen the misery humans could bring, yet it’d instinctually known that we’d meant it harm.

  Is that Kas?

  Was that how he viewed everyone?

  Strike first before he could be struck against? And what did that say about how he saw me? Did he actually lust for me, or was that just a dominating tactic to keep me from rising up against him and using his past to control him?

  My brain hurt.

  Ugh, why was everything so complicated when it came to this blasted man?

  Kas didn’t speak again as we fell back into single file, following our tracks through the grass back to the first trap he’d set. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on who was looking, it was empty of edible victims.

  “Damn,” Kas muttered. “I’ll set more tomorrow. We need to start building up our stocks before it’s too late.”

  I ignored that. I didn’t want to start another lecture on how I’d used up more of his veggies than was permitted. I also didn’t want to discuss how many animals he’d need to slaughter in order to keep us fed in those colder months.

  My mouth suddenly watered for packet pastas and chocolate bars. Processed food that conveniently came prepared, with none of the hunting and gathering fuss involved.

  As the sun slowly set behind us, casting our shadows long and lean in front of us, my eyes locked onto Fables in the distance. Just like that first day when I’d spotted it hiding beneath its ivy and wildflowers, I felt a sense of unease and curiosity.

  For all its ramshackle exterior, Kas had kept it impeccable inside. Had it always been so rough outside, or was that Kas who’d done his best to camouflage it?

  Swallowing, not sure why I was willingly entering into conversation with him, I asked over my shoulder, “Are you the reason weeds are growing out of the gutters, or was that part of the original design?”

  For a few seconds, he didn’t answer me, almost as if he’d chosen not to reply, but then a quiet, almost reflective sentence floated back to me. “I don’t like heights.”

  I stopped and spun to face him. I kept my eyes off the dead bunny and focused on his ruggedly, annoyingly gorgeous face. “What? But you climbed up...” I waved at the cliff. “Up there after me.”

  He snorted. “Didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  He brushed past me, deliberately rubbing our bodies together even though we were in a giant meadow with plenty of space to avoid each other. “I’m sure, by now, you know letting you go was an impossibility.”

  I hid my shiver from his closeness. “Because you wanted to keep me for sex.”

  “Originally.” He licked his lips, his gaze skating down my naked legs to my bare toes.

  I missed my boots. My soles weren’t nearly as hardened as his. Getting poked by grass stems and having to watch out so I didn’t stand on an irritable bumble bee was annoying.

  He licked his lips, not trying to be seductive but achieving it far too well. “But we both know it’s something more now.”

  My belly flipped.

  I stepped away from him.

  He cleared his throat and continued toward the hidden house, swinging that poor rabbit as if it’d personally offended him. “And to answer you fully, the ivy was planted to do exactly what it’s done. It’s eaten up the brickwork and blurred its outlines, keeping Fables secret. However, the dirt on the roof and the weeds in the gutters are thanks to years of winds, storms, and birds that have deposited shit up there, and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning.”

  I followed him once the chain pulled tight between us, dragging me forward. “Do you have a ladder?”

  He threw a scowl over his shoulder. “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll go up. I’ll clean the roof.”

  He slammed to a stop, his mouth falling open. “Why?”

  “Why?” I stopped too, planting my hands on my hips. “Are you asking why I’d bother cleaning off something that helps aid the camouflage or why I’m offering to help with a task you obviously aren’t keen on?”

  “The second part. Both.” He cocked his head. “Why would you help me after...everything?”

  I honestly don’t have a clue.

  I cocked my head too, both of us watching each other like inquisitive birds, unable to figure each other out, regularly shocked and continually intrigued, but most of all deeply aware that there was something far, far deeper swirling between us than our current captee and captor roles.

  “Leaks.” I blurted, giving him a simple answer instead of a tricky one.

  “Leaks?”

  “If you don’t keep the gutters clean, then water will flow into the wall cavity. It will cause a leak, which will cause dampness, which means you could get sick from mold spores or catch a chill.”

  “Don’t you mean we could get sick or catch a chill?” His eyes pinned me to the spot.

  I knew the answer he wanted. Even with the chain around my ankle, he needed affirmation that I wasn’t going anywhere. But for all my attempts at understanding him and all my missed opportunities to leave, I wasn’t prepared to be his forever. While I was forced to stay, I would do my best to keep things civil between us. But that was as far as this odd relationship could go.

  Dropping eye contact, I murmured, “I’m not yours forever, Kas. I’ll never be.”

  It was my turn to brush past him, not looking back as we left the meadow and stepped over the threshold into his home.

  Our home.

  No, his. Always his, never mine.

  The rabbit suddenly went flying past my face, landing on the kitchen bench with a gross thud. “Seeing as you’re so keen on helping all of a sudden, gut that. Slice the meat off its bones and cook it.” Stalking to the length of chain lying on the floor that permitted full freedom within Fables, instead of the shorter one currently binding us, he snatched something from his pocket, unlocked the padlock from his waist, and with a flick of his wrist, somehow reattached my part of the tether to the longer part now attached to him.

  He bowed, catching me watching him. Hissing beneath his breath, he wobbled a little as his balance faltered. He bared his teeth, his mood switching to harsh animosity. “You’re free to wander, my dear Gemma Ashford.” His strange, shadowy eyes narrowed. “Free but not free, if you get my meaning. Oh, and yes, you are mine. Forever too if I choose it.”

  Moving toward the hallway leading to the servant’s stairs and the foyer beyond, he added, “I expect to eat in an hour. All that exercise has made me hungry.”

  What the hell is his problem?

  I probably shouldn’t have said what I had. But then again, had he truly been affected by my muttered ultimatum or had his concussion made him switch personalities again? I eyed him warily, looking for a sign that he might snap and attack me. “And if I don’t do what you command?”

  Spinning, he wedged both hands against the doorframe, looking as if he’d been strapped to a cross or some mercenary gloating over his enemies. “Then I’ll give you a lesson in the culinary arts.” His smile was black. “After all, I have read every book in this library, and there are quite a few good recipes. Some even include organs, entrails, and blood.” He pointed at the rabbit. “Waste not, want not, and all that. I suggest, if you just want a nice juicy thigh, you get moving.”

  “Care to explain why you’re back to being an asshole?”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Yes actually, I do.” My nose went in the air. “You say I don’t respect your boundaries, yet it’s you who doesn’t respect mine. Look at what happened today. You hurt me...again, but I was ab
le to put that behind us. I’ve been nice to you and it’s backfired every single time. I literally just offered to clean your gutters and—”

  “And ensured I was highly aware that this, that we, are just temporary in your mind. Whereas for me—” He punched himself over the heart. “You are more permanent than anything.”

  “You can’t expect to keep me like a favourite toy, Kassen!”

  “And you can’t have this both ways, Gemma.”

  “Both ways?” My own temper fired hotter to meet his. “You’re the one who switched the moment you walked inside.”

  “No, you’re the one who just admitted you’re still looking for a way out.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  He laughed coldly. “You said it right to my face.” He lowered his chin, watching me beneath his brow. “I saw it in your eyes. I heard it in your voice. It wasn’t just the words you used but the way you said it. Seems you’re not the only one who can read a person. The more I get to know you, the more secrets you share with me.”

  I trembled with fear and fury. “Do you honestly think I will turn my back on my mother, my brother, and not try to leave? You’re naïve if you think I’ll put you before them.”

  His fingers dug into the doorframe. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Perhaps not, but by removing my choice, it ensures I’ll never drop my guard around you. Never be anything more than just your prisoner.”

  “Did I say I wanted more?”

  I sneered, drinking in his face and the agonizing hurt in his stare. He might be learning how to read me, but I’d already become a master at reading him. And his features were carved with frustration. With need. With a hunger that only came from being denied true company. He’d accepted that he no longer wanted to be alone. I’d conveniently fit the role in becoming his valley companion. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked. He’d told, and well, I was stubborn when it came to being told anything.

  I crossed my arms and ignored his previous question. “I’m not cooking for you.”

  “You’ll do it because you owe me. I fed you each night for a week. It’s your turn.”

  Spinning on his heels, he stalked through the door and left me with a dead rabbit, trembling anger, and the awful feeling that he’d won.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ONE HOUR.

  I’d given her one hour to gut, skin, and cook that fat little rabbit.

  I glowered at the paua shell clock in the library, slouching in Storymaker’s throne.

  It’d been two hours and still no food.

  What the fuck is taking her so long?

  If I wasn’t so mad at her, I would’ve gone to check. Maybe I would’ve even helped her, especially with the messy parts. But I literally couldn’t be in the same room with her. Not after I’d witnessed her face slip into defiance, not when her body language shouted far louder than words, letting me know exactly what she thought of me, this arrangement, and the fact that she saw us as temporary instead of permanent.

  Was this how she felt when reading me? Did my face give off similar hints that my emotions toward her ranged from rabid desire to fuming loathing? And if she could read me as well as she said she could, why hadn’t she stabbed that knife she’d commandeered into my heart by now? It was obvious she wanted to.

  She wants nothing to fucking do with me.

  Fury flowed in my veins at the unfairness of it. Couldn’t she see I was trying? I was doing my best to be human. To remember how to be kind and think of someone other than myself. It wasn’t easy after so long. It definitely wasn’t easy after the shit I’d endured.

  But I was trying, which was more than I could say for her.

  Instead of meeting me halfway, she was searching for that perfect moment of weakness to flee.

  My jaw clenched with rage.

  While she’d slept on the riverbank, I’d stupidly thought she’d felt the same tug of togetherness I had, and that’s why she hadn’t run. That she could feel—

  There’s nothing to feel.

  She’s mine to use as I see fit.

  Nothing more.

  If my screwed-up head had tried to make it into something it wasn’t, then that was the concussion’s fault, not mine.

  Yet...

  I’d thought we’d made progress today. I’d embraced the softer sensations inside me. I was going to let her take whatever pleasure she wanted from me, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t she know what a big deal that was? How much that would’ve cost me to let her use me after everything?

  Instead of accepting my olive branch, she’d pretended things were better, all the while biding her time to run.

  Damn girl.

  Damn exhausting, infuriating girl.

  I sank forward, resting my face in my hands and digging fingers into my hair. My anger switched to dizziness.

  A split second of blankness came again. The library wasn’t known, my body wasn’t mine, everything about my world emptied of familiarity.

  I gasped.

  I fought to crawl back to who I was.

  But it was all too much.

  I was done.

  My eyes snapped closed.

  The smothering tiredness that I couldn’t seem to shake pounced on me.

  I tipped forward.

  The carpet embraced me with a hard welcome.

  And then, nothing.

  * * * * *

  “Are you cold, little Kas?”

  I huddled tighter into my ball on the floor. I wasn’t falling for that bastard’s question. Mr. Liven had a sadistic side that rivaled even Storymaker. He’d summoned me, abused me, then instead of releasing me back to the dormitory to lick my wounds with my Fable family, he’d commanded I slink to the floor by the bottom of the bed and sleep like the dog I was.

  That was two hours ago.

  In that time, I’d gone from cold to hypothermic.

  I did my best to hide my shivers and the blue tinge of my bleeding body.

  Snow blew in from the open window, swirling like icy dust and dampening the carpet with white flakes. He’d opened it when he’d worked up a sweat rutting into me. He’d left it open to teach me a lesson. A lesson in humility because I hadn’t begged enough to be abused.

  “Seeing as you’ve been a good little puppy, you can sleep up here with me, if you want?” Mr. Liven snickered, yet another question full of blades to slice me with.

  I curled up tighter, my teeth clacking with cold and my bones jangling as I shivered.

  The bed creaked as he climbed out of the blankets and came to squat in front of me. “Come now, can’t have you dying on me. Stuart would be mighty pissed.”

  Dying sounded good.

  Dying sounded like freedom.

  Snow caped his naked skin as the wind howled louder, sending the room to arctic temperatures. His hand cupped my bare shoulder, warm and strong and awfully comforting.

  I wanted to pull away. I wanted to kill him for leaving me marked in his cum and autographed with his lust, yet horribly, I inched closer, drawn to his heat, survival commanding I seek warmth.

  He cooed under his breath. “There you go, my stubborn little pup. Let’s get you up, shall we? We can make you beg when you’re all thawed out.”

  I had nothing left.

  Nothing.

  I allowed him to haul me to my feet, only remaining standing because he didn’t let me go. With a kiss to my icy forehead, he guided me back to the bed. Like the father I couldn’t remember having, he pushed me gently under the blankets and crawled in after me.

  My mind screamed at me to run.

  My body puddled into gratefulness, soaking up the heat.

  His arms snaked around me, his hand landing on my flaccid cock.

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s get your blood flowing again and some color back in those pasty cheeks, and we’ll have another good time together. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” His hand worked up and down, pumping me.

  I had no energy to pull away. And eve
n if I did, I was too conditioned to do whatever a guest wanted. And even if both those reasons weren’t governing me, the pure fact was, I was beyond cold, and frankly, his hand felt good.

  For the first time since I’d entered this awful valley, I felt pleasure from someone’s touch. A reaction of thankfulness and desire instead of the filth and pain that usually ruled my world.

  I moaned under my breath as his thumb pressed the top of my cock.

  “That’s it.” He laughed. “Get hard for me, little Kas. I’ll even let you come. Would you like that?” He kissed the back of my head, pumping me faster. “But remember, I expect to be paid back for being nice. In fact, I have just the ticket on how you can repay me.” His teeth clamped down on my ear as he stopped touching me and reached for the knife on the bedside table.

  The knife that’d already carved me up while he’d taken me the previous three times.

  I stiffened.

  I tried to get my frozen body to move.

  But then his hand was back on my cock, and I gave in.

  I gave in because I was weak and broken and disgusted with myself.

  I had nothing left. I’d given it all to my family. Every scar, every rape, every scream.

  I’d done it all for them.

  Was it so wrong to want something of my own?

  A split-second release?

  A blistering second of freedom?

  I gritted my teeth as I forced myself to forget who I was, what I’d become, and embraced the ever-growing blackness inside me.

  I needed this.

  I needed to come, even if it would be the last thing I ever did.

  After tonight, I would end it.

  I’d been strong for as long as I could.

  I wanted all of this shit to STOP.

  Tonight, I wanted to die.

  Levin fisted me, making my gag-reflex kick in. “Come for me, little pup. Then it’s my turn.”

  And that was the moment I stopped caring, stopped fighting.

  I accepted my place in this godforsaken world.

  I was worthless.

  Empty.

  It was almost over.