Текст книги "Fable of happiness book two"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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I stayed lying down, blessedly free of the headaches and the wooziness of my concussion. Slowly, I turned to my side, resting my face on my arm as I watched her sleep.

Her lips were slightly parted, her eyelashes feathering on her cheeks, and dried hair splayed out and blending with the golden grass. She looked so innocent, but at the same time, all I could remember was the way she’d scratched me, attacked me, and fought me back as we’d come together in the storm. I’d imprisoned her to use for sex. Yet somehow, on that hilltop with thunder booming, it hadn’t been sex that’d undone me. It’d been her. The way her legs wrapped around me as I sank inside her. The welcome on her tongue as she kissed me back.

No one—not a single person in my sorry excuse of a life had granted me such acceptance. An embrace that went above just physical gratification and helped erase all the shit that’d been done to me.

I would always be grateful for that, even if she did infuriate me for making my life a thousand times harder.

Her vow that I would never touch her again, never feel that welcome again, suddenly burned through me. My temper sparked as my gaze slid from her lax face to her firm breasts. I got why she never wanted to fuck me again, but it didn’t mean I would permit it. She couldn’t give connection to a desperate man and then revoke it when he’d done something wrong.

It only made him more desperate. More manic. More dangerous.

You can’t deny me, Gemma. I won’t allow you to.

My rage smothered my guilt for hurting her. I’d housed her, fed her, clothed her. The least she could do was open for me.

So...take her then.

My headache returned as my cock swelled and my mind filled with thrusts and slapping skin. My balls tightened and I could already feel the euphoria of climaxing.

But if I took her, she’d hate me. She’d do more than just ignore me for a week, she’d happily stab me in the back to run. And as much as I wasn’t afraid of death, I was afraid of being alone again. What if I was alone in death too? What if I returned to the purgatory I’d endured for the past eleven years—a ghost with nothing and no one?

I shivered.

Cloying fear drowned out my lust, leaving me knotted and frustrated and struggling to get hold of myself—to follow boundaries instead of being a monster.

She continued to sleep beside me, unaware of how close she came to being taken against her permission. I drank her in, unable to tear my eyes off her nudity.

Her nipples were flat and small, her skin turning slightly pink from the sun. The muscles she’d honed from a lifetime of climbing were stark with definition from the weight she’d lost. The darker blond hair between her legs glittered in the light, and for all my willpower of keeping my hands to myself, I couldn’t.

It just wasn’t possible.

I swallowed a groan.

Christ, I want her.

I could use her right here, right now. I could take her and wake her up as my cock sank inside her. I’d make it feel good for her. But...then our fight would begin anew. Our animosity would grow. Our hate would blot out the fledging friendship we could have.

A few weeks ago, I would’ve gladly taken that trade.

I would’ve been happy just having access to her body whenever I damn well wanted.

But now...?

Fuck now, I wanted more than just her body.

I wanted what lurked behind her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted the truth behind her lies of loathing me. I wanted to know her. To actually listen and allow memories to form. Memories I actually wanted to remember.

I need to apologize.

I pushed up, hovering over her on my elbow. My body cast a shadow on her, puckering her nipples as the shade made her skin react to the temperature difference.

I could fix this and take the contact I needed.

I’d strangled her by accident. I’d tell that to her face the moment she woke up, but for now...I had another way to apologize. The only way I knew how, really. The only talent I’d been taught.

I’d been a slave to pleasure. Most of the time, that pleasure had been taken against my will, but occasionally, I’d be forced to grant it as if I willingly lusted for the guests who hurt me.

I knew what turned women on; men as well, unfortunately. I knew how a tongue could be used to tease and torment. I knew how to bring someone to an orgasm, with or without their permission.

It was the only true skill I had. And I could use it to show just how sorry I was—to somehow erase the distance that’d been growing between us. I could give her the release that I desperately wanted.

Wasn’t that fair? Wasn’t that the kind thing to do? Denial of my own desires in order to take care of hers?

Sex had once been my master and my nightmare, but thanks to her, it’d become my choice again. My decision to touch another, to crave another.

And fuck, I craved her.

Rolling closer, I ran my fingertip around her pebbled nipple.

She flinched in her sleep but stayed in whatever dream she enjoyed. That was good. I could gift her pleasure, even if she never knew it was me.

Cupping her breast, I massaged her gently, lowering my mouth to her sun-salty skin and licking her areola.

She sucked in a breath, her head falling to one side.

My heart bucked in my chest as I inched down her body, pressing light kisses along her ribs, running my tongue around her taut belly. With my decision made, I didn’t stop or second-guess. I worked my way down and down, settling between her legs as her mouth parted and she moaned in her sleep.

Looking up the expanse of her stunning body, I almost gave in to the dark urges inside me. The hisses to take her like others had taken me. Not to care about her wants or needs because no one had taken care of mine.

I wanted her so. Fucking. Bad.

I needed to be inside her, not wedging my cock into the dirt.

But I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I wanted to make this right between us more than I wanted to take her. If she accepted my apology, then she’d have no choice but to let me fuck her again. We would no longer be enemies.

“Forgive me for hurting you.” My mouth settled over her pussy. I swiped with my tongue, finding her entrance and working my way back to her clit.

Her legs trembled around my ears.

Her hands tightened to fists in the grass.

I licked her again, dipping inside her and tasting everything I’d been denied.

“Let me apologize,” I murmured into her wetness. “Let me show you what I’ve learned from being a slave.”

She moaned again as I plunged my tongue inside her, no longer soft or sedate. Her legs tried to snap together, catching me around the ears and adding a ringing to my already throbbing head.

With my vision spinning, I closed my eyes and nipped at her clit. She was my anchor in the chaos inside my mind. She was the only thing I needed to get well again.

“Gemma...” I licked her. I clutched her hips with my hands, splaying her wider. Her inner muscles clenched around my tongue.

She was reactive. Pliable. I could make her come in a few seconds if I chose.

Burying my nose against her clit, I prepared to shove her into an explosive release. But...I stopped.

My tongue slipped from her body.

I had the unbearable need to kiss her mouth instead.

If I gave her a dream orgasm, who the hell would she see? What man from her past would give her bliss while I’d only brought her pain?

No.

No fucking way.

If I was going to make her come, then she would know exactly who worshipped her. And she would be grateful. And she would moan my name as she came in my mouth, not someone else’s.

I was done being used.

I was done being nothing.

Swooping up her body, I lay beside her in the grass and cupped her cheek.

“Dream of me, you frustrating fool.”

My mouth crushed hers.

I kissed her hard.

For a second, she froze beneath me. Her lips thinned. Her neck tensed to turn away. But then she sighed, she surrendered, she kissed me back.

And that shattered the rest of my self-control.

I rolled on top of her.

My hips settled between hers, my cock frantic to plunge inside her.

Her mouth opened wide, her tongue lashed mine. The delicious abandonment of a dirty, deep kiss was suddenly shattered as her eyes flew wide and a scream sliced through my faulty ears.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She turned wild beneath me. Her legs scissored together, shoving me out of the cradle formed by her body. “Get off me!” Shoving me to the side, she scrambled to her ass and scurried backward, her hair full of grass seeds and late afternoon sunshine. “How dare you!” She wiped her mouth with a shaking hand. “How dare you!” Tripping to her feet, she didn’t seem to notice she was bare as she shoved a finger in my direction, hissing, “I was asleep, you bastard. You strangled me and now you try to rape me?! Argh, when will I learn? God! When will I accept that you truly are the biggest asshole alive!”

“Stop yelling.”

“I’ll yell as much as I damn well want!” She stomped around, pacing with a manic look on her face. “I can’t...I literally can’t understand it. You tried to fuck me—when I was sleeping no less, after I explicitly told you you’d never be welcome to any part of me again!” She threw her hands up. “Wow. I mean...why the hell am I surprised? You’d think I’d have accepted this by now. I mean, it’s not like you’ve been anything but a monster to me. Why do I keep expecting a sliver of good from you, huh? God, why haven’t I learned?”

Her livid gaze fell to her ankle and the chain smugly linking us together again. And all her anger just fizzled into despair. She shrugged with a choked laugh. “And you’ve tethered me again. Of course, you have.”

Our eyes locked, and her misery drove a pickax into my heart.

With a despondent nod, she turned away. She gave me her back and her perfectly toned ass as she looked longingly at the cliff. At the escape she hadn’t taken. “I should’ve run. I should’ve ignored all my safety training and climbed naked and barefoot up that stupid cliff and taken my chances with the forest. I should’ve done something, anything, to be free of you.” She buried her face into her hands and screamed.

It was muffled and morose, and I couldn’t fucking stand it.

“I’m sorry, okay?” I spoke quietly and slowly, cursing my pounding head. I stayed where I was, sitting by the river, grimacing against the ringing in my ears. “It’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” She spun and laughed icily. “It’s exactly what I think. Your cock was almost inside me!”

“I was trying to apologize!” I glowered at her.

“Apologize? Hah, I’ve never heard of rape being used as an apology tactic before!”

“I was focusing on your pleasure. I was going to do whatever you wanted. I was going to be yours...to use however you wanted.”

She stiffened, understanding what I’d offered her even though it cost most of her hate. “I didn’t ask you for anything. I didn’t want anything.”

“And I didn’t want you to keep hating me for doing something I didn’t mean to do.”

She bit her cheek, her eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”

I sighed, running a hand over my face before I looked back up at her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you...in the river.”

Silence.

Stagnant, pregnant silence.

Slowly, she crossed her arms against her stomach, not bothering to cover herself up, either still too angry or too far removed from needing clothes at this point. “Why?”

I frowned. “Why what?”

“Why did you then? If it was an accident?”

I shook my head, bracing against the memories swarming thanks to her question. The answer was there, waiting for me to open the door and allow the nasty recollection back into my comprehension.

But that was the thing.

I didn’t want to remember.

I knew I’d recalled something sick. Something that a guest had done to me or some punishment that’d drawn my blood. The problem was, there was not a thing on this godforsaken earth that would make me willingly drag that memory back again and let it have free rein inside my head.

No way.

“Doesn’t matter.” I shifted on the ground, preparing to gather my balance and stand. “What does matter is I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

I pushed up, swaying a little as I locked my knees and stood tall. “No.”

“If you want me to forgive you, you’ll tell me what you remembered.”

I smiled thinly. “I guess my apology is moot then because I refuse to go back there.”

She sighed heavily as if she was used to me deflecting, as if she knew me better than I knew myself. “Have you read The Cost of You? It’s a psychological text in the library. While you were unconscious, I read a lot. I skimmed every book I could that might help you.”

It was my turn to cross my arms. “I have.” My cock still hadn’t deflated and the urge to snatch her around the waist and finish what I’d started hummed in my blood. “I’ve been here a lot longer than you, remember.”

She nodded as if pleased I knew the book she was referring to. Frankly, it was text-heavy snooze-fest about patients who moaned about their problems. It was men with lots of doctorates and monikers to their names, professing their professional opinion on how to help people with trauma. There’d even been a workbook in the back to help the reader get over their own trauma, to see if the author’s method of treatment could work.

I’d laughed when I’d found it. Was the book one of Storymaker’s inside jokes? Why else have a book on trauma in a house of slaves? However, curiosity got the better of me and I’d skimmed the questions.

I’d promptly shoved it back on the shelf and never read it again.

“If you read it, then you’ll know how dangerous it is to suppress things that frighten you.”

“Frighten?” I sneered. “You saying I frighten you, even after I confessed to wanting to pleasure you over my own needs. I hardly think you should be afraid of me, more like grateful that I’ve acknowledged my mistake and wanted to make amends.”

She held up her hand. “I’m not afraid of you. Well, not as much as I once was, at least. And we both know I wasn’t talking about me.” She stepped closer, the chain whispering through the grass. “I’m talking about you. You’ve suppressed so much you can’t even distinguish what’s real and what’s not anymore. You strangled me because you thought I was someone else. You had hallucinations and personality switches while recovering because your mind can no longer keep the past from the present. If you don’t permit yourself to remember, then—”

“I’ll never willingly remember,” I snapped.

She sighed again. “In that case, we both better come to terms with how this will end then.”

I frowned. “How what will end?”

Her chin tilted up, and a chill ran down my back. Naked and sun-painted, she looked otherworldly. She looked as if she had a crystal ball and wasn’t just giving hypotheticals but a horrifying future that would come true. “You’ll make another mistake.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms as if she’d scared herself with the weight of her premonition. “You’ll hurt me, even if you don’t mean to. You’ll kill me because you’ll see them and not me. And then, you’ll be alone again. It won’t be because I ran. It won’t be because I got up the courage to hurt you to earn my freedom. You’ll kill me and be the only one to blame for your loneliness.”

I choked on my own spit. I fumbled for a refusal—something to prove how wrong she was. However, she merely turned her back on me again, grabbed her damp shirt from the top of my clothes, and shrugged it on.

It didn’t matter that she had no skirt, boots, or underwear; the way she walked with her spine dead straight and her aura of righteousness made her look like a queen. An already dead queen as she walked away until the chain pulled tight between us, and she could go no farther.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WE WALKED BACK TO the house in silence.

I’d waited—not that I had a choice with a damn chain around my ankle—while he pulled on his T-shirt and jeans, and the moment I felt slack between us, I moved.

I marched in front of him, highly aware the shirt skimmed the bottom of my ass, leaving me exposed if I moved too quickly or the breeze caught me the wrong way. Heaven only knew where my boots and skirt had gone, most likely downstream and vanished into a cave somewhere. If Kas hadn’t had a flashback and made me panic, I would’ve thrown them safely on shore.

Damn man.

I shivered, my instincts prickling having him behind me. I couldn’t stop reliving the dream I’d had versus waking up with Kas almost inside me.

I shuddered and not entirely with anger. I hated that he’d made me wet. That I still tingled with the need to release. I hated that my body had responded to him all while my mind wasn’t in control.

But what really pissed me off was even in my dreams, he’d affected me. I’d shared a kiss with him back at my lovely little house. I’d seen mementos of a life together. I’d felt so peaceful and content knowing he was mine and I was his and that we loved each other. Not that I’d known it was him until I saw his eyes, of course.

Those tormented, shadowy eyes seemed to haunt my every breath.

Something screamed up ahead, wrenching my attention up.

What on earth—

Kas increased his speed, cutting in front of me and wading through long grass to the trap he’d set as we’d headed toward the river. He moved with jerky steps as if our argument still irritated him, but he didn’t seem unstable, or not as bad as he had been. He was in control of his balance as he came to a stop by the trap and found a rabbit hurling itself against the bars.

It screamed again. A god-awful sound that ripped through my heart.

Without pausing, Kas shoved his hand into the trap, grabbed the rabbit by the neck, and snapped it.

Silence.

I turned away, slapping a hand over my mouth and fighting the urge not to be sick.

“You should’ve looked away,” he muttered, resetting the trap and swinging the dead animal from his fist.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” His forehead furrowed, long hair tangled over his shoulders. “I didn’t trap it so I could release it with a free lunch, you know.”

I swallowed hard and strode ahead, forcing myself not to look at the poor creature. Two seconds ago, it’d been alive. Now...it was gone.

I wasn’t squeamish with most things, and I understood why he’d killed it. But...it still left a nasty taste in my mouth. I wondered if that was because I was so used to getting meat from the supermarket and being removed from the whole murder process that I was blind to the crueler ways of the world.

That could be said for Kas, too.

He’d felt cruelty. He’d lived it for years. We had nothing in common in that respect.

Thanks to my charmed life, I found it difficult to sympathize with someone who’d been abused ever since his childhood. For all my attempts at understanding him, my upbringing demanded respect and decency. Our society had no gray areas for forgiveness if someone messed up. Empathy, it seemed, only went so far.

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 able 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.

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