No, it’s necessity.
Until this morning, when I’d woken and drowned under memories I’d long since suppressed, I’d forgotten about the man and his white beard. I’d forgotten about his threats of exterminating me if he ever found out I survived or his gleeful assurances that there were other sex slaves, trafficked and currently serving in remote corners of the world.
Part of that memory filled me with fear, wondering if he’d return to check I was dead. Any day now, he might stroll through the cave and finish what he started. But most of me churned with revolting guilt.
There are others.
Others like me, like Quell, like Wes.
And I’d chosen to stay here instead of seek them out.
Stop it.
I curled my hands, focusing on Gemma instead of my stomach-turning thoughts. “I suggest you tread carefully.”
Her chin tipped up, the silver zippers on her backpack swinging in the moonlight. “Look, I’m not entering into another argument with you and I’m not running. I’m leaving for both our sakes. I know you don’t want anyone to know you’re here, and just an hour ago, I respected that. I packed and prepared to go with the intention of leaving you to your own devices as I know you’ll be happier that way—”
“Happier?” I snorted. “Oh sure, I’ll be ridiculously happy when I’m alone again.”
“You literally just said—”
“You ruined my loneliness, Gemma Ashford. You’re the one at fault, and you’re the one who destroyed my solitude. It turns out, I’ve had quite enough fucking solitude.” I swallowed hard, pinning her in place with my anger. “I’ve told you as much.”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Let’s stop going around in circles then. If you’re finally ready for company, then let me send someone to help you.”
“Christ, you’re not getting it.” My head pounded. “I don’t want company. I don’t want strangers. I want you.”
She gasped.
Awkwardness fell between us. The back of my neck prickled. I ran my hand over my sweaty nape, making me fidget like an idiot. For all my rage when I’d first woken up. For all my trust issues and soul-drowning darkness, I didn’t want her to go. I wouldn’t let her go. I couldn’t be alone again. “Put down the bag and stay.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“You can, and you will.”
“No.” Her fists shook by her side with frustration. “I have a family who will be losing their minds over me. I have a life.”
“So, you’re willing to throw away my life just because it’s complicated yours?”
“Argh!” She threw her arms up. “God, you infuriate me. Did you not hear me? I said I would respect your wishes and not tell a soul. I will keep your secret, even though not knowing if you’re okay will cause me to worry every second of every day.”
I smiled thinly. “Is that supposed to mollify me? Knowing you’ll worry about me? Trying to show me you have a heart, after all?”
She huffed as if her frayed patience was about to snap. “I have a heart, you bastard. I’ve shown it to you. You even successfully wormed your way into part of it. But I have obligations. I have a family to reassure. I’m not yours to keep or command. I stayed because I caused you pain, and I cared for you to the best of my ability, but now, I need to help others. So please, I beg you, allow me to send better, qualified people to keep you alive. Let them bring you back into society, for goodness’ sake.”
“No.”
She sighed, nodding wearily as if she’d already accepted my answer. “In that case, I have to trust you’ll be okay on your own. You haven’t slipped into another delusion since you woke fully as yourself. Your coloring is already ten times better than it was this afternoon. I’ve left you food—” Her gaze drifted to the garish packets of processed pasta, along with the pile of chocolate bars that would forever taste like ash if she ran tonight.
“Considerate,” I grunted. “Four pastas. That should get me through winter, no problem.”
She gave me a pissed-off look. “If you let me tell someone that you’re here, you wouldn’t have to face another winter...alone.”
“And like I said, I’d rather die frostbitten and starving than have other people trespass on my valley.”
I’m not ready.
I might never be ready to face what happened to my family or the truth of what other nightmares existed out there.
“Well, I personally think you’re being ridiculously stubborn. How did you think this was going to work out between us? Did you honestly think you could keep me as what...your sex slave for the rest of our lives?”
I flinched but then nodded. “That was my first intention, yes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And now?”
“Now, I have others.” Balling my hands, I forced my legs to work and my unbalanced coordination to stay the fuck in line. I closed the distance between us slowly, laboriously. If she sensed what I was about to do, she’d bolt, and I wouldn’t have a hope in burning hell of catching her.
Keeping my face arrogantly blank, I didn’t stop until we stood so close, her body heat enveloped my ice. Ever since I’d woken and found her missing, I’d been cold. I wore a cloak of goosebumps and had icicles in my bloodstream. Those clues alone were enough to tell me I was in way over my miserable head.
But unlike my past where I’d been a martyr—where I’d accepted pain and desertion for those I loved—I was doing what I wanted this time. And what I wanted changed constantly. One moment, I hated this woman. The next, I couldn’t imagine a life without her. My body wanted her while my heart cursed her. My need bounced between throwing her in the cellar and grabbing her in a bone-breaking hug.
So many wants, so many twisted desires. I couldn’t untangle them all. I didn’t have the power or the mental faculties at present. All I knew was I wanted her to stay, to never leave, to always be at my side. Regardless if we hated each other until our final breath, despite the violent desire currently spitting and hissing between us that complicated everything.
I wanted her.
I wanted her company and her body. I wanted her strength and her sorrow.
I wanted to hibernate with another bear, even one who would likely claw out my eyes before winter was through.
I’m so sick of being alone.
Reaching out, I gently cupped her cheek.
She jolted and swayed backward, once again her instincts reading me correctly and warning her to run. Her eyes danced over mine, swirling with indecision.
My touch remained kind, gentle. My tongue licked my lower lip, and I forced my shoulders to slouch from threatening to imploring. Thanks to her reading me, I took care with what I showed, pretending to be a man who would sacrifice her happiness for his own.
To be a man who’d fallen from a cliff and woken up changed, whole, reborn.
A man who would kiss the girl he desperately wanted and then say goodbye.
But I wasn’t that man.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, shivering as I glided my fingers through her hair to the delicate indent of where her neck met her shoulder. My eyes dropped down her body, sending blood rushing to my cock and away from my addled brain, making me sway before her.
A single touch and we were both panting as if we’d been running toward this moment our entire lives.
Stop.
Gritting my teeth, I tore my eyes from her breasts and continued to her ankle. I had to know. My plan all hinged on one vital piece of information.
The cuff.
Still wrapped tight around her delicate ankle, still padlocked into place.
I smiled as I looked back up to meet her stunning stare. “You didn’t manage to undo it.”
She struggled through the need swirling between us, her eyebrows drawing together. “No, I—”
“Did you try?”
She licked her lips, chewing on honesty. “I did.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
I nodd
ed, brushing my touch along her shoulder and neck again, searching for that perfect, assailable spot. The pressure point drawn in a diagram I found in a martial art book in the library.
The thing she hadn’t understood about me was, yes, I was a tortured soul living alone in the valley. Yes, I was more animal than man. And yes, I had many flaws and countless holes in my education.
However...
Books had been my saving grace. They’d been my only friend on those long winter nights and endless summer days. I’d read everything cover to cover, including topics that would help me defend myself if more enemies came to Fables.
My thumb found the spot, my fingers prepared to squeeze.
I bent to kiss her.
Her chin tipped up, stupidly trusting that I was as drunk on chemistry as she was. I wouldn’t lie. My head was swimming, and desire had replaced every inch of my concussion. I was rock fucking hard.
But I was looking at the bigger picture where I had a lifetime of seducing this girl. Whereas she was looking at a final, passionate goodbye.
Two people who belonged with each other yet continued to fight the inevitable.
Our lips brushed as I spoke into her mouth, “I’m glad you tried.”
“You are?” She kissed me back, her tongue flicking out to lick along my bottom lip. “Why?”
“You’ll see.”
I smashed my mouth to hers. I kissed her so damn hard.
She moaned.
I groaned.
And my fingers pinched hard around her carotid artery.
I kissed her while she kissed me back.
I kissed her while she began to thrash.
I kissed her as she gasped for air, then tumbled at my feet unconsciousness.
* * * * *
Well, what do you know?
It worked.
It worked so well, she’d been out cold for an hour before a soft mumble left her lips, and she twitched beneath the blankets I’d placed over her.
In that hour, while she’d remained in the forced sleep I’d granted, I tried to move her into the library—back to the bed she’d made for me. To swap our roles from patient to carer.
Unfortunately, my body had other ideas.
I was too weak to move her farther than the doorway. I was too light-headed to drag her across the marble or even carry her backpack to the corner where it belonged. Instead, I almost blacked out myself. I’d collapsed on my knees and seen stars, all while she’d slept like a corpse.
I didn’t know how long she would stay unconscious. The book had said some people stayed under for a few minutes to a few hours. I was on a tight timeline, so I had no choice but to abandon the idea of moving her and instead brought comfort to her. I placed a pillow beneath her head and slipped off her heavy backpack. I’d left her curled up in the middle of the kitchen and closed the door she’d tried to escape from.
And then, I used the rest of my meager balance and strength to climb up the stairs and enter Storymaker’s bedroom, where he kept the chain. Opening his drawer full of kinky apparatus, I clenched my jaw as the glint of metal winked in welcome.
My mind slipped.
I fell—
“Know what this is, Kassen?” Storymaker grinned. “Its name is Parable, and it will be your new best friend.”
I stood trembling, eyeing up the links of whatever fresh hell he planned.
Ducking to my ankle, where he’d already locked a leather cuff around me, he fastened another padlock to the shorter leash. With one snap of bondage, he increased the length by miles. My blood dripped down my legs, staining the leather and glittering red on the metal links.
“Ugh, someone get a bandage for Kas here,” Storymaker barked. “His whip marks are staining Parable.”
One of his guards strode from the library, no doubt going to fetch the kitchen maid and her box of medicine.
I could do with some medicine.
My body was burning up.
The twenty lashes I’d earned for stealing food for Elise and Nyx had come at a price. But I’d do it all over again. They were starving. He was working them too hard. I wanted to fucking kill him.
As the kitchen maid came in and stood behind me to tend to my flayed, bleeding back, Storymaker clasped his hands in front of him and muttered, “There are no locks on the doors and no bars on the windows, as you well know, Kas. You’ve been a good boy lately. You haven’t tried to run since I showed you what would happen to your precious friends if you did. But you are being a pain in my backside lately. I don’t care if you want to be fucked by all the guests. If you’re greedy enough to volunteer in all your friends' places, who am I to argue if the guests are okay with your ass over another’s? However—”
He rushed forward, shoving his face into mine.
I flinched as the kitchen maid swiped over a particularly deep gash, cringing away from Storymaker’s wrath. “I will not permit you to think you run this establishment, you little shit. You are mine. They are mine. You will do what I say when I say it, and if that means you have to wear Parable until the day you die at my feet, so fucking be it.” He grabbed the chain and slipped the links through his finger, marching farther and farther away, stopping at a pile of more chain by his desk.
Picking up the other end, he dangled a larger piece of leather.
And then, he slipped off his blazer and undid his black shirt.
Everything inside me froze over.
No.
Not him.
I’d been sodomised and abused. I’d been ridiculed and punished. I’d done everything he ever commanded because if I didn’t, my family would pay. Yet I’d never been fucked by our master.
He was into girls.
He—
“Oh, don’t panic, darling Kas.” Storymaker blew me a kiss. “I’m not after your tight hole, not unless you’ve swapped a cock for a pussy.” Wrapping the leather around his waist, he buckled it then snapped another impenetrable padlock into place.
Laughing under his breath, he tugged the chain, putting pressure on my ankle and pulling my leg forward. It was either move or fall.
I moved.
I moved away from the kind kitchen maid fixing my shredded back.
I moved with a straight spine and balled hands and stopped before Storymaker, understanding what this meant.
He nodded. “I see you get it.”
I dropped my eyes obediently. “Yes, sir.”
He tugged the chain again, motioning to the belt he now wore. “Wherever you go, I will feel it. If you try to go where you are not permitted, I will know. If you sneak out of bed to get food for those little bastards, I will be there.” He reached out, his hand landing on my head, sinking manicured fingers into my hair.
Fisting the strands, he snatched my head to the side as his face lost its groomed mask and slipped into the devil beneath. “You hear me, boy? I am the spider, and you are the fly. You are in my web, little Kassen. I suggest you tread carefully.”
STOP!
I couldn’t breathe.
I gasped and clawed toward the light, falling to my ass as my hands dropped miles’ worth of tarnished chain. It spilled around me like a sinister metal snake.
Digging both hands into my hair, even the pain of my broken arm couldn’t stop me from clutching the strands and doing my best to rip them out.
To rip the memory out.
I wanted it gone. Erased. Burned to ash where it belonged.
Please.
I sucked in another breath, this one untainted with the power to pull back the curtains that’d enclosed me. Slowly, the darkness receded. My stomach hurt as I shoved Storymaker and all his nasty games deep, deep inside me.
Gemma.
Shit.
Panic did the rest for me, shoving aside the fear of my past for the fear of my present.
She could’ve woken up by now.
She could’ve grabbed her bag and left, all while I broke like an idiot on a bedroom floor.
Stumbling to my feet, I
snatched up the chain and tripped into the corridor. I crashed against the wall as I reached for the banister. The stairs blurred into one unending slide.
My vision played tricks. My palms slipped on the railing. The chain bounced and plinked behind me as I dragged it down the hazy steps to the foyer. My knees threatened to buckle as I reached ground level, wincing as the soft thud of bronze links on carpet became high-pitched pings of metal on marble.
Hurry.
Swallowing sickness and forcing my balance to remain operational, I stumble-strode into the kitchen and once again crashed against the doorframe.
Still there.
She was still asleep where I’d left her.
Thank God.
My ears pricked as she mumbled something softly.
Asleep but not for long.
My hands shook as I traded the long length of the chain for the leather belt at the end. The fact I wore no other clothes apart from the boxer briefs she’d dressed me in was convenient as I slipped the leather around my waist and snapped the padlock into position.
Gemma groaned under her pile of blankets. Her arm moved to rub her head.
Now.
Or it’s too late.
Rushing forward, I practically fell on top of her as I plunged to the floor, grabbed the leash still tethered to her ankle, and snapped the final lock into place.
I’d told her I was grateful she’d tried to remove it.
I had too in the past.
And we’d both realized it wasn’t removable without a key. She’d tested it and found the reality of her entrapment. Now, I’d ensured she could move around Fables. She could continue caring for me, could go where I went, and help me fix the damage she’d caused with my vegetable patch.
We would be each other’s shadows as we prepped and prepared for a season change. We would be forever linked, and I could finally, finally relax. Finally trust that she was here to stay.
I wouldn’t have to keep her in the basement. I could harness her strength and borrow her hands in order to do the things I currently couldn’t do. All the while, she could continue enjoying sunshine and books and my twisted company.
We could walk and talk; we could learn and grow.
We could spend decades bound together, and she could never leave.
She’s truly mine.
Fable of Happiness Book Two Page 13