Fable of Happiness Book One

by Pepper Winters

  She sighed sadly, her gaze ripping out my pieces one by one. “And who knows, maybe that’s exactly what they’re doing right now. Your private paradise might be invaded by more than just me. But...here’s the thing. I know things about you too, you bastard. I know you’re sheltered and very secluded. I’m beginning to guess you’ve lived here on your own for a while. Long enough for you to forget some very important things.”

  I froze. “What things?”

  Pushing off from the wall, she dared step closer to me. Her breasts rose and fell beneath her grubby jacket. Her legs flexed beneath tight leggings. My belly coiled to rip off her clothing and command her to her knees.

  She stopped only once her body heat kissed mine.

  My skin scorched with flames, electricity crackled up my legs and into my balls. My heart lost its structural steadiness and turned demonic instead. It took everything not to sink my hands into her hair and drag her closer.

  “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why you’re keeping me prisoner, but I do know that you’re different.” Her hands landed on my naked chest, sending bolts of lightning through my ribs, electrocuting my racing heart. “I will never forgive you for strangling me. Twice. I will never let my guard down around you. I will make it my life’s work to ensure you pay for everything that you’ve done to me. But...I also can’t admit that you’re evil. You’re messed up and clearly have trauma. You’re mean and cruel and believe just because I’m a woman that I was put upon this earth to serve you. But I also know things you can’t hide.”

  My back filled with icy lead. “What—”

  “Where I come from, people have mastered the art of lies. Social media has taught us to hide our true parts and only show what we want people to see.” Her head turned to the side as if she studied me, judged me, and found me lacking in every fucking way. “And you...whoever you are, you don’t possess those skills.”

  “What fucking skills?”

  What the hell is she talking about?

  My ears rang.

  My head swam.

  She provided more entertainment and stimulation than any animal, tree, or chore in the decade I’d lived here. She made spaces come alive, she made air tingle with power, she made me wake up from the wordless beast I’d become to a man slowly stretching back into humanity.

  But she also confused me, frustrated me, made me furious with her very existence.

  Was I supposed to find her this annoying? This fascinating? Was it a by-product of living alone for so long?

  I didn’t like it.

  I don’t like her—

  Her voice lowered to a whisper, made huskier by my second strangulation. “You reveal everything that you’re feeling. I know you want me. I know you think you deserve to hurt me. I know I’m driving you crazy, talking about things you can’t understand. And I know you’ll rationalize raping me because, in your mind, making me live in this damp prison is entirely justified—”

  I slapped a hand over her mouth, shutting her up.

  I couldn’t listen to another syllable.

  My head hurt from her accusations. My body trembled with the war she was determined to have. She backed up, slapping my hand away and sucking in a breath, ready to launch another torrent of words, despite her bruised throat.

  No way.

  I was done listening to this shit.

  I was too quick.

  Rushing her, I snatched her around the waist and plucked her from the floor. Up close, she didn’t smell as fresh as my valley anymore. She smelled stale and sad. A cloying despair that did nothing for my desire.

  Almost everything she’d said to me was bullshit.

  She didn’t know a goddamn thing about me.

  But she was right about one thing.

  She needed a bathroom.

  A shower.

  To be clean.

  And then, once she was clean, she owed me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “LEAVE.” I CROSSED MY ARMS, ignoring the cramping in my stomach and the filth coating my skin. My eyes wanted to dart around the bathroom where he’d taken me. An opulent silver tiled affair with fluffy white towels waiting for no one, coin-shaped soaps with gold wrapper, and the empty lacquered frame where a mirror used to be.

  My ribs still hurt from him carting me up the stairs like a dead cow. His naked chest wedged into my belly, his strong legs swooping me up the marble stairs as if I weighed nothing.

  He chuckled coldly. “I’m not leaving.” Slouching against the doorframe, he crossed his arms. “Strip, shower, get on your knees.”

  Goosebumps of hate shot down my arms. The way he couldn’t tear his eyes off me made my already painful stomach somersault with repugnance. I’d sucked him this morning for survival. I’d plotted in the darkness of my cell as daylight switched to twilight, hoping to come up with a solid ruse. I’d eaten every morsel of breakfast and done my best to ignore the calls of nature.

  I would pee in a bucket, I would sexually obey him, but I would not—could not—do anything more. It wasn’t just the shame of lowering myself to such a level. It was a physical impossibility. My body had shut down. It flatly refused to operate.

  Exhausted tears stung my eyes as I mimicked him and crossed my arms. The toilet sat behind a tiled wall, unseen from the doorway but within listening distance.

  Who would’ve thought that I could handle blowing a complete stranger, yet the thought of going to the bathroom in front of him...that was what tipped me over the edge.

  Hugging myself, I debated how best to get through to him.

  He hadn’t appreciated my tidbit that I could read him. That his secrets weren’t so secret. That I knew he felt pride when I’d eaten his food. That he battled between wanting me and doing the right thing.

  If he even knows what the right thing is.

  His expressive face was the reason I was fumbling in this mess. If he’d worn the mask of a murderer and had soulless, lifeless eyes, I would never have been stupid enough to keep my PLB and phone in visible distance.

  I’d been idiotic to believe he didn’t have a clue what they were. He honestly didn’t. His confusion when he’d first seen them hadn’t been faked. But I’d underestimated his need to stay hidden, and I’d miscalculated the aggression hidden beneath the glimmers of kindness in his stare.

  He wasn’t cruel by nature but he was by design, and I struggled to remember that, especially when I caught him looking at me as if I was more dangerous to him than he was to me.

  Rubbing my arms, I swallowed past the new bruises he’d given me and prepared to use honesty to hurt. To make him understand. To appeal to the boy inside the man who’d obviously been tortured at some point in his life. Who wore his trauma so plainly—too plainly. He was the scarred dog left behind by a family who’d mistreated him. The dog who’d grown up left to his own devices, remembering faint rules on how to behave but far too removed from them to be governed.

  He cleared his throat, impatience radiating off him. “Strip, shower, and—”

  “Please.” I took a step toward him, allowing my shields to drop. For my bravado to vanish against the true pain and embarrassment I felt. If his honesty could scramble me this badly, then perhaps my honesty could do the same to him.

  I wouldn’t lie or threat.

  I would be myself.

  I won’t betray who I am.

  I made another deal. A deal that sounded weak to my ears but was the only way I could think of to win. “Please...” I didn’t know his name so I couldn’t add that as an extra tool of persuasion. “I know you don’t like me, and I did something unforgivable by trespassing in your home, but...I’m begging you. I need some privacy. I need...” I looked over my shoulder at the toilet and flushed with heat. “I need you to close the door and leave me alone.”

  He shook his head, his forehead furrowing into harsh skepticism. “If I leave, you’ll climb out the window.”

  I glanced at the window in question. The glass wasn’t frosted an
d showed the convenient vines of ivy and other plant matter that would be a perfect ladder down to the ground. Even if I wasn’t a professional climber, I could’ve scaled the wall and been gone within a matter of moments.

  My stomach cramped, and I dropped my arms to hug there instead of my chest. “What do I have to do to convince you to leave? What if I promise to come get you the moment I’m done? Then I’ll let you watch me shower. Then you can touch me, command me, use me in any position you want...all you have to do is let me have a few moments alone.”

  His jaw clenched; his dark eyes turned black. His long hair tumbled to the side as he tilted his head. Obvious lust flared, but his lack of trust was stronger. “Nothing will convince me. I’m not moving.”

  I glanced around the room. I tried to come up with a way to assure him I wasn’t going anywhere even though every molecule in my body screamed to bolt. A curtain cord bound the white gauzy drapes by the non-existent mirror. Odd to have curtains in a steamy bathroom, but it only added to the level of silver luxury.

  Dashing forward, I unwound the cord and held it up. “You could tie my ankles.”

  “Won’t work. You’d just untie yourself if I didn’t bind your hands.”

  “I need my hands to...eh, undress.”

  He shrugged. “So I stay. And I watch.”

  Nausea flowed up my throat. “I literally won’t be able to do a thing if you do.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “It is your problem. My death will be your problem.”

  “Your death would be a relief.”

  I narrowed my eyes. That wasn’t a flippant phrase. He genuinely meant that. He showed no fear of corpses or the hypothetical clean-up of my demise.

  Argh!

  How could I get through to him? How could I make him care?

  You can’t. You’re his enemy.

  The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.

  Easy?

  Ha, this would never be easy!

  Every second with this bastard was the hardest thing I’d ever endured.

  I...I—

  Gem, stop...

  The sleeplessness. The stress. It all crushed me until the stinging tears refused to be swallowed back any longer.

  No.

  A few escaped, sliding down my cheeks.

  I swiped at them but couldn’t stop the many droplets following swift behind.

  All I wanted to do was use the toilet.

  Such a basic human right. Such a factual part of nature that should be private and personal, and if he couldn’t even give me a few minutes alone—

  I can’t win.

  I can’t do this.

  I choked on a sob, refusing to let it sound.

  He froze against the doorjamb, his ever-watchful gaze tracking my tears. The front of his slacks still showed his arousal. His naked chest strained as he inhaled, drinking in the sounds of my sadness.

  He watched me fighting, doing my best not to break.

  He didn’t say a word as I silently slid to the floor and bowed at his feet.

  This wasn’t me giving in. This wasn’t me accepting that I wouldn’t keep fighting, keep trying. This was me reaching my limit for tonight. Tomorrow, I would be stronger. Today, I was done.

  “I’ll ask you one last time.” I caught his tortured stare. “Leave.”

  He inhaled sharply.

  I’d kneeled before him this morning and put my mouth on his cock. I’d been submissive and not at all the badass warrior I’d hoped I would be. I’d done those things while doing my best to figure out how to play him. I had reasons for giving in.

  But now? Now, I had nothing left.

  If he could strip me of such a simple part of life, then he honestly didn’t care about the rest of it. I was just a vessel to fuck until he tired of me.

  On the floor of his pristine bathroom, I came to terms with the stark truth. Up till now, I’d dabbled with the idea that I could get him to like me. That the way he watched me meant there was a feeling, breathing male beneath all the coldness. I’d had hopes that by giving him my body, he might give me something greater in return.

  He had that capacity inside him.

  I’ve seen it.

  But that all shattered now.

  I didn’t even cry. Not really.

  I just...shut down.

  I tuned it all out and slouched on the cool tile, ignoring every ache and discomfort in my body.

  I didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, his feet scuffed on the marble as he pushed off from the doorframe. He came toward me, tipping my chin up with his finger. He looked deep into my eyes and studied me.

  I didn’t look back.

  I blinked without seeing.

  I deleted him from my existence.

  I honestly didn’t care what he’d do.

  But then...he was gone.

  His finger left a slight burn where he’d touched me, his body leaving a small cloud of his sunshine and shadow scent.

  It took a stupidly long time to understand that he’d not only left the bathroom but the bedroom too. He’d left me. Alone. Just like I’d asked.

  And that was when I truly cried.

  The sob couldn’t be contained, and I crawled to the door on my hands and knees. I slammed it shut as tears gushed down my cheeks. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the toilet.

  Ripping off my leggings, I cried even harder as I sat on the cool porcelain and let go.

  The relief was instant.

  The gratefulness for his disappearance immense.

  My body purged, and once it was over, I shook with hunger, fear, and tiredness.

  I’d never been so twisted and knotted. I’d never been denied cleanliness or safety. Now that I’d been granted a few moments alone with a shower nearby and my stomach no longer in agony, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

  I should launch myself out the window and run.

  I should throw caution to the wind and get as far away from here as I could.

  But...I’d always been a savvy climber. I was the smart one with the right equipment, enough rations, gear, and technology to prevent a tragedy like the one I’d stupidly fallen into.

  And if I ran now, I wouldn’t last long.

  I barely had any food in my system. I had no water. It was dark, which meant I couldn’t see where I had to go. I could end up breaking a leg or falling off the cliff as I attempted to escape.

  And besides, I’d made a promise.

  I’d said I’d stay if he left me alone. If I failed and he brought me back, I would never get another chance to cultivate his trust. To plot a better escape. One where I would succeed.

  Tomorrow.

  Survive tonight.

  Run tomorrow.

  With a racing heart, I tore at my dirty clothing.

  I kicked off my hiking boots along with my leggings and underwear. Unzipping my windbreaker, I ripped off my hoodie, t-shirt, and exercise bra and threw them all into the corner.

  Naked and highly aware I still had streaks of his dried cum on my chest—even after washing the best I could in the dungeon—I darted into the shower and turned on the tap.

  Icy water hit me.

  It felt sublime.

  I didn’t mind it was cold or that my shaking increased until my teeth chattered and kneecaps bounced. I’d never enjoyed a shower as much as this. Never felt so baptized from dirt or refreshed by liquid.

  Water sluiced over my face as I tipped my head under and gasped at the chill. My hair plastered down my back. With eyes blinking back droplets, I grabbed the gold-wrapped soap and tore it open, running the flowery scented suds from the top of my head right to my toes.

  Heaven.

  Hell.

  Everything in between.

  Only once bubbles covered me did I step back under the cold spray and rinse. My skin burned from the cold, and the contrast between the muggy air and the snowy water was almost an aphrodisiac. My senses were on high alert and strung out. My jumpiness at an
all time high.

  Thanks to hypersensitivity, I knew he’d returned. I knew before the door even opened. Instincts did their best to protect me, sending my heart hiccupping before catapulting into an all-out sprint.

  The bathroom door opened.

  He strode in.

  Our eyes locked from across the room. Droplets continued to rain over my face, and his naked chest glittered with the numerous scars that painted a story of his pain.

  His gaze dragged from my eyes to my bare breasts, exposed stomach, naked core, and every inch in-between.

  He didn’t slouch against the doorframe this time.

  He stood stiff and solemn.

  He didn’t reach for his straining erection or attempt to provide any relief to the stark arousal on his features. His hands balled into fists by his thighs as he continued to drink me in. His tongue wetted his bottom lip as he became transfixed by my ass as I turned my back on him and shot him a glower over my shoulder.

  He acted as if he’d never seen a naked woman before, but beneath that eager innocence, something far too dark to understand existed. Flashes of it appeared and disappeared in his eyes. Something cruel and sadistic. Something that hinted he wasn’t innocent at all and had done things I could never imagine.

  More time passed between us as he watched me finish my shower.

  He didn’t rush me or bark orders for me to come to him.

  It was almost civil in the way he stood like a gentleman, granting me his every thought and desire through the heat in his blackened gaze.

  Beneath the chilly water, my core clenched despite myself. It reacted to his severity, his strength, his savagery. He was a man who would never survive in society because of whatever had happened to him out here.

  What did happen to him?

  Was I once again making things up? Was I romanticizing a situation that had nothing romantic about it? Whatever tales I came up with about his background, they were all wrong. The most logical explanation was, he was a wanted convict who’d been hiding from the law for whatever crime he’d committed. Judging by how easily he’d strangled me and continually threatened to take my life, he was probably wanted for murder.

  Whatever heat had threaded through my core dissipated, leaving me shivering even harder beneath the spray.