Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

I glanced at the rope knotted securely around his wrists. “You had an accident. You fell off the cliff surrounding this valley. I think you have a concussion, and I doubt you’ll remember this conversation. I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I can’t pretend that I’m one of those monsters in your past.”

I sighed and swallowed, forcing myself to go slower, to try to make him see sense. “I don’t know where your brothers and sisters are. You’ve been living alone for a while now. No one else is here but you.”

“You’re here.” He bared his teeth. “You’re not telling the truth. I can see right through you. You’re here, and you’ve trapped me. You’re the same as them. You think you can control me, use me—”

“I’m nothing like them.” I hugged myself against such a notion. It made my skin crawl with vile disgust. “We met when I entered your home unannounced. We, eh...we’re friends.”

“I don’t have friends.” He twisted his hands, trying to get free. “You’re lying. This is some new game. I’m done, okay? I’m fucking done!” His twisting grew to yanking at the rope. He scrambled to his feet, only to be jerked down again from where I’d tied the leash to the couch leg.

His breathing accelerated, his stare drenching black. “Let me go. If what you say is true, let me the fuck go!”

I shoved upright and stepped back. Fear returned. If he got loose in this condition, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But if I left him tied up, if he didn’t snap out of this fantasy, what harm would it do to him long term?

“Let me go!” he roared.

“I’m sorry!” I wrung my hands. “I can’t untie you. Not yet.”

“Let. Me. Go.” He bit at the rope, looking unhinged and not entirely human. “Do it!”

“It’s for your own protection. And mine.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Of course, it’s for yours. You know what you’re doing is wrong. You know I will do anything to protect my family. If that means being hurt by you or finding a way to end you, I’ll do it.”

“Kas...” I breathed his name, uttering it like it was magic to end this curse.

It didn’t end the curse, but it did do something.

It made him crumple to his knees again.

His fury extinguished. His fight erased. He bowed before me, shut down and submissive. “Christ, I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” He choked. “Just please, I don’t understand what you want from me. Tell me, and you’ll be pleased. I’ll be whatever you want. As long as you keep my family out of this.”

Oh, God.

I rubbed at my aching heart as I watched such a strong, scarred man come apart.

I fell in love in that heartbeat.

Not because of his damaged mind or his aggressive ability to make me come alive beneath him...I fell in love because of his selflessness.

It wasn’t a romantic form of love.

It wasn’t a platonic form of love.

It transcended all of that.

It was love that bloomed in my chest like it would for any creature willing to put themselves in the path of pain for the sake of others.

I fell in love with his sacrifice.

And I couldn’t be there anymore.

Backing away, I mumbled, “I’ll...I’ll go find you something to eat. You need to eat. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

I ran before he could reply.





CHAPTER SEVEN

MY NEW MASTER PUT food in front of me.

Strange food that Storymaker’s chef would’ve died before letting a guest eat. Raw carrots with honey and a pile of cut strawberries. No sauce. No freshly prepared roasts or cakes.

Where were the decadent meals all guests enjoyed? Where was our one meal of deliciousness after being such good toys to them?

We’d grown accustomed to our reward. The one meal where we were allowed to indulge. A feast for the servants of Fables.

“Please...you have to eat.”

I looked up, catching the eyes of the woman who I now belonged to. I couldn’t understand how this had happened. Where were the guards? Where were the other guests? Where was Storymaker?

My mind was fuzzy, refusing to give me pieces of time.

It flickered with images of Quell as a little girl when we’d first met to her as a young woman on the night we’d said goodbye.

It swirled and blended, tormenting and teasing with reality.

Was this woman Quell?

They looked similar.

Could I have been struck over the head while I rescued them? Could I have died like I’d predicted, and this was some form of hell?

Who is she?

My wrists ached from the rope binding me. Dried blood smeared over my forearms and knuckles from where I’d tried to get free.

Whoever she was, she wasn’t my beloved Quell.

My friend would never imprison me. She knew better than to tie up an already captured soul.

The woman pushed the plate closer to me, careful not to come too close herself.

She was wise in that.

Smart not to put herself in grabbing distance because I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if I got my hands on her. Most of me buckled beneath the habituate programming I’d grown up with, but other parts of me—parts I didn’t recognize or remember—howled with commands to end her.