Fable of Happiness Book Two

by Pepper Winters

  My heart bolted into my ribs. How much should I tell him? What would trigger him? What would help?

  “Well?” he snapped.

  I frowned, watching him closely. His color switched from sickly gray to horrifying green. He didn’t look well. Not at all. “Perhaps...perhaps you should lie down. You shouldn’t force anything. You’ll only make your recovery harder. You’re awake now, and that’s good news. It means you’re healing, but you shouldn’t rush it.”

  His throat rippled as he swallowed hard. “Tell me. What exactly do you think you know about me?”

  Before I could forbid my mouth from speaking, I once again put my damn foot in it. “I know you don’t trust me, but if you just pause for a moment, if you take note of what I’ve done, you’ll understand that all your secrets are safe with me. I didn’t hurt you while you were unconscious. I haven’t taken advantage of you. I took no liberties whatsoever. I’m not like them. I promise—”

  “Not like who?” His voice went deceptively quiet. Too quiet. Like a knife hidden in velvet. He tugged the leash, jerking my leg from my cross-legged position. “Tell me.”

  My eyes fell on the cuff around my ankle. Thick and robust, the leash wasn’t a toy or part of a kinky bedroom kit. The leather wasn’t soft and pliable—definitely not the flimsy type for tame sex games between a happy husband and wife. The aging brown was stained with dark copper splashes; scratch marks marred its historic smoothness.

  My stomach turned over. “Is...is that blood?”

  Kas nodded as if I’d asked about the weather. “Of course. All of ours combined into one sinister smudge.” His eyes were cold and empty. “Now, tell me what I want to know. Otherwise, your blood can join the smudge too.”

  I wrung my hands, glancing across to the sideboard where the ruined dinner I’d cooked the night before sat abandoned along with the kitchen blade I’d kept for protection.

  Fat lot of good it did me across the room.

  I had an awful, awful feeling if I told Kas what I knew, it wouldn’t work in my favor. He wouldn’t see it the way I did. That he had an ally now. I was on his side. I wanted to help him work through his trauma and—

  “I’m sick of waiting.” Lashing out, he grabbed my wrist with his good hand, twisting my skin nastily. “Speak.”

  My hand automatically latched onto his, trying to pry him off. The contact between us heated and hissed, hot with chemistry, sparking with electricity that refused to make sense.

  “You had dreams, okay? You were...you were in and out of consciousness.” I made eye contact with him before looking back at our linked hands. “Occasionally, you’d wake as someone else. No, not someone else. You were still yourself, just at different times in your life.”

  His fingers loosened around my wrist, trembling as he pulled away. “Go on.”

  “You...at one point, you thought I was Quell.”

  “What?” He froze, shaking his head as if his concussion sucked him backward. “No, I—”

  “You called out to your family. You told them to run. That you’d...take care of things.”

  He choked, holding up his palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

  Scooting upright, I sat on my knees, the leash once again following me as I moved. I knew I shouldn’t. I should honor his wishes to stop. But the desire to help smash his walls and make him realize he was safe was too strong. The sooner he trusted me—the quicker he faced his memories and found happiness—the safer I would be too.

  “I don’t think you’ve heard enough at all. I think you’ve suppressed a hell of a lot of stuff from your past. Stuff that’s slowly killing you. What you lived through here...in this place?” I exhaled hard. “God, I can’t imagine the pain, the despair, the horror you all went through.”

  His head shot up. “You don’t know shit.”

  “I agree with you. No one should have to go through what you did. But you also can’t pretend it didn’t happen. You’re shoving it away. It’s there, inside you, but instead of facing it, you bury it. You would rather—”

  “Just because you heard some insane mumblings from a guy who has the worst fucking concussion in history—while he was asleep, mind you—doesn’t reveal the truth. It’s not real. None of it is real. You’re mistaken.”

  “If it’s not real, how do you explain the books?”

  Once again, he went horrifyingly still. “What books?”

  I gulped, wishing I’d never started this. I wasn’t just playing with fire; I’d drenched myself in a can of gasoline. “The Fables by Stuart Page. Morals for all occasions.”

  The immediate change in him terrified me.

  He shut down.

  His eyes went blank, his jaw went slack, his body swayed as if he was about to pass out. I wanted him to. He needed to rest. This was too much, too soon. I’d overstepped and been far too hasty.

  Way to go, Gem.

  Shifting toward him, I touched his thigh, his arm, his cheek.

  Up close, I was wrong that his stare had gone blank. It hadn’t. The opposite was true. Black thoughts all crammed inside, obsidian memories, charcoal agony, and a lifetime of tar-coated torture. It was crowded in there. Far too congested with darkness to ever hope he could be pulled into the light.

  God, what have I done?

  I’d pushed him off a different cliff this time.

  His mind was free-falling, tumbling, tangled with evil abominations of his past.

  Cupping his cheeks in both my hands, I had to do something to put an end to those soul-sucking shadows inside him. For a man who’d been touched against his will so much, I refused to kiss him or use affection that could come across as demands.

  Instead, I stroked his scruff and ran my thumbs over his dry lips.

  Kindness.

  Give him kindness.

  “Hey...it’s okay. Just...come back to me. Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I promise on my life that you’re safe. I’m not leaving, you have my word. I’ll go collect some food, alright? I’ll cook for you. I’ll come back with a feast, and we’ll have a picnic on the carpet. We can talk. How does that sound? Nothing more. You can trust me with everything you are. All you have to do is go to sleep. I’ll pick some delicious cucumbers and grate a few carrots, and I’ll even try to cook some french fries like you did that day. Unless you have a request, of course. I’ll make whatever you want. Name a vegetable, and it’s yours.”

  Something switched inside him.

  A trigger I’d somehow stupidly activated.

  Rearing back, he swatted my hands off his face. “Vegetable?” His lips twisted into a snarl. A fury cloaked him, fierce and brutal—a menacing fervor I hadn’t seen since the first time we met—when he’d stood naked at the bottom of the stairs and flew like a demon to kill me.

  Grabbing my shoulders, he used me as a crutch to trip to his feet before jerking me to stand before him. Shaking me, he barked, “Is that how you’ve been feeding me? By raiding my goddamn vegetable patch?”

  “I—” I scowled. What was the big deal? The food was planted to eat, wasn’t it?

  “Answer me!” He shook me again, his rage growing blacker, thicker with each heartbeat. “Don’t fucking tell me you’ve been helping yourself. That you’ve eaten things without any thought to winter. Tell me!”

  I jiggled in his furious hands as he trembled and shook me. I held on to his arms, gripping both good and broken. He shouldn’t be moving. The splint could only do so much and only if he stopped using it as if the bones weren’t trying to knit together.

  “How could you?!” He shook me harder, my head bouncing on my neck. “What did you think you were doing here, huh? That you were being my savior? That each meal you fed me, each time you listened to me crying out like some pitiful creature, you were doing something good? My own personal guardian fucking angel. Well, I have news for you, Gemma goddamn Ashford. You might have just brought me back to life, but you’ve killed me this winter. You’ve killed both of us!”

  The room spun. Star
s danced on my vision. “Stop shaking me.” I twisted, trying to get out of his hold. “Kas, please—”

  He froze.

  He dropped me.

  He blinked as if I’d spoken a different language.

  And then, I saw my mistake.

  Kas.

  I called him by his name.

  His slave name at least.

  A name he hadn’t given me himself.

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE RINGING IN MY ears fell echoingly silent.

  A switch from concussed buzzing to aching quietness. A deadly sort of quietness where I was aware of everything. Of my heart pounding, my lungs breathing, my very fucking blood gushing through my veins.

  Every synapse locked onto the woman swaying before me. The hazy vision from my head injury realigned into crystal clarity. Everything about her, I noticed. From her dusky blond eyelashes, slight sheen on her forehead, glistening lips from her tongue, to the panic blooming in her gold-flecked hazel eyes.

  We stood in an orb. A circle of silence and nothingness that’d snapped around us the moment she said my name. The only name I could remember. A name that filled me with filth. A name I hadn’t heard aloud since I’d freed my family.

  A sharp lance of agony cut through my skull. The bubble around us faltered, fracturing down the middle like a crack in glass, spider webs of brokenness clinging together before the inevitable explosion.

  How much had I said in my sleep to this woman? What the hell had she gleaned from the misery I wallowed in? My past was mine. Not hers. She wasn’t entitled to my pain. She wasn’t allowed to know the extent of my suffering because that would change things between us. It would make her bold. It would give her far, far too much courage to stand up to me.

  It’s already changed things.

  The silence stretched as my fingernails dug deep into my palms. My fists shook, wanting to strike. Someone. Something. I wanted to hit her, and the discipline it took to refuse such an urge crucified me.

  She deserved to feel a fraction of her betrayal. Over and over, this goddamn woman hurt me. Her appearance. Her actions. Her care. Her tricks. How was I supposed to stay safe when she was the exact fucking opposite of the word?

  I inhaled hard, shaking my head from the black shadows creeping over me. The bubble strained around us. One last pulse of quietness. A single second before anarchy would rain.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She licked her lips nervously, her gaze dancing over my face, searching for my reaction. “I...I’m sorry...Kas.”

  I winced as another hot poker drove through my skull.

  The second shattered.

  And I gave her my reaction.

  My teeth stayed tight together as I spoke. “That name came from a book. It’s not mine. It was never mine. Yet you have the audacity to use it.” My fingernails pierced my palms as more rage filtered through my hands. I really, really wanted to strike her. I’d spent a lifetime being made to obey, forced to bend over and take whatever shit they gave me. But now? Now, I’d crafted a life where I never had to answer to anyone. Ever again.

  I had food I’d painstakingly planted. Which she’s eaten.

  I had a house I’d laboriously cleaned and claimed. Which she’s ransacked.

  I had a valley I’d felt safe in. Which she’s infiltrated.

  She’d ruined everything.

  Over and over and fucking over again.

  And now, somehow, she’d taken possession of my name?! What was next? My body? My soul? The very freedom I’d fought so damn hard to have?

  Christ!

  “How did you learn it, huh?” I snapped. Did you trick me while I was sleeping? Did you twist my mind into spilling secrets that weren’t yours to know?”

  “No!” She licked her lips again, a nervous twitch as true fear along with disgusting compassion colored her cheekbones. “It wasn’t like that!”

  “Then tell me!” I barked, leaning into her, crushing her. “Tell me why you’re looking at me differently. Why you’re watching me with fucking pity instead of terror.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are.” I grabbed her and shook her again, pleased when she groaned as her neck fought the motion. “You think we’re friends, Gem? Did you envision I’d wake after days of being unconscious and suddenly, what? Be cured? Be grateful?” I laughed with ice. “Before you came into my life, I hadn’t been seriously hurt in years. I had nothing to heal from. Nothing to fear. Yet after a week in your dazzling company, I already hurt more than any punishment they ever gave me.”

  She flinched. “Kas, I—”

  “Don’t use that name.”

  Her shoulders braced beneath my hands. “I have to call you something.”

  “No, you don’t. You haven’t earned that right.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded even though her eyes remained narrowed. “Give me a name, and I’ll use it. Choose anything you want, and I’ll honor your request.”

  “Honour it? Ha! You haven’t honored anything else of mine.”

  Fight unfurled beneath her fear. “I cared for you, in case you’ve forgotten. I honored your life. Without me, you’d still be at the bottom of the cliff. Dead.”

  “Without you, I would be living an ordinary summer’s day. Safe and alone with no fucking trespassers messing up said life!”

  “You could’ve let me go that first day, and none of this would’ve happened!”

  “You could’ve kept your nosy business out of places where you didn’t belong and never have come here!”

  “Well, you should’ve—”

  “I should’ve what?” I seethed, yanking her close. Too close. So close our noses touched and eyes locked deep.

  Her chest rose as she planted her palms on my pecs, pushing gently. Fire burned me. Heat came from out of nowhere, swirling between us. Arguments blazed in her stare. The same urge to strike me resided in her, but somehow, she sucked in a breath and visibly calmed. Not all the way. Just enough to murmur words instead of punishing with fists. “You could’ve just said thank you. You’re right that I’m the reason all of this has happened. I’m fully aware neither of us is happy with this arrangement. I know you’re struggling with having a guest—”

  My entire body jerked at that word.

  She noticed.

  She knew what it meant.

  She knew more about me than she had before I’d fallen, and that gutted me because just how much did she know?

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” she rushed. “I didn’t mean to use that word. I’ll erase it from my vocabulary immediately.” She stood stiff in my hands, her breathing shallow and quick. “Look, I can’t seem to say anything to you that doesn’t get me into trouble. I don’t know how to do this. I understand why you can’t trust me. But you have to know my intentions are pure. I mean you no harm or have any intention of tricking you. So, please...just take a breath and listen to me. Give me two minutes, and I’ll explain everything.”

  “Oh, you’re going to explain everything all right.”

  “What does that mean?” She frowned.

  “It means, I have a shit ton of questions, and you’re answering every single one.” Pushing her away from me, I ducked and grabbed the leash from around her ankle.

  The room tipped upside down.

  Buzzing returned in my ears.

  My mouth went sour with the urge to be sick, and the headache that seemed to be a permanent friend swelled with pressure until I swore my brain would ooze out of my ears.

  “Come,” I growled, thick and almost indistinguishable as English. “Move.” Tripping sideways, I kept my fist locked around the leash as I pulled her from the library. Each step required far more coordination than I currently had. Fables was no longer built on solid rock but on an ocean that bucked and rolled beneath my feet.

  “Where...where are you taking me?” A feminine voice behind me, coming from a dark tunnel and unable to find my ears properly. I crashed against the banister, clutchi
ng at the spindles as I looked upstairs to the rooms where so much of my soul had been stolen.

  Big mistake.

  “Come, Kas, it’s time to play.” Mrs. Cox crooked her finger in my direction, swinging a crop in her other hand. She cocked her hip, smiling from the landing. “You’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you? Time for some discipline.”

  Storymaker’s palm shoved between my shoulder blades, making me stumble up the stairs. “You’re the one who begged to take Jareth’s place. So go...be a good boy and fuck that woman raw.”

  I blacked out.

  I came to.

  “You need to sit before you fall.” That voice again. A voice down a well, echoey and far away.

  No.

  I needed...

  There was something important...

  The garden!

  Shoving off the banister, I tripped and stumbled the entire distance from the house to the veggie patch outside. I ignored the mess in the kitchen. Of pots used but not washed. Of knives waiting on benchtops and not in their usual home. Of crumbs—goddamn crumbs, on my pristine floor.

  I didn’t let the swelling in my head overflow with anger. In keeping with her character, she’d messed up my church of cleanliness. Everything of mine she touched, she destroyed.

  My heart lurched, and I fell out of the doorway, almost collapsing to my knees in the chef’s garden.

  It was a massacre. A fucking massacre.

  Earth lay scattered along my carefully tended pathways. Holes in the corn crop, the lettuce patch, the bean lattice—holes everywhere where mature vegetables used to be, waiting for harvest, their destiny to be jarred, dried, or frozen in preparation for months when nothing grew.

  Christ!

  I bashed against the wall as my balance threw me sideways.

  “Please, you really need to sit down.” She wrung her fingers, coming into my eyeline. “Your head is killing you. You can barely stand. You’re gray and sweaty. You should be back in bed, resting, not...” Wafting her hand around the veggie patches, she scoffed—actually had the goddamn nerve to scoff. “Not dragging me outside for a cultivation lesson.”

  I smiled, thinly, nastily. “Oh, this isn’t a cultivation lesson.”