Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

I had no doubt, if he could open himself up to me, without his nightmares and concussion snatching him back, he would be loving, protective, and sweet.

Yes, sweet.

One hundred percent, he’d be the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met.

I’d almost swooned in the kitchen while he was completely unaware of my further tripping into feelings. I’d itched with an almost manic desperation to make him see me. To help break him free and talk because if I could—if I could show him how to be happy—he would be my best friend, life partner, and soul mate.

And that’d hurt.

Watching him cook with his jaw clenched as if to stop himself from talking to me and his body language stiff and threatening, I’d made a promise not to push. Not to ask the many, many questions I had. Not to rattle off about my own life, wanting him to know me in return.

I’d let silence cushion the strained connection between us as he tipped water into the well-cooked veggies and smashed it all together, forming a hearty soup, working as fast as he could in case the power went out.

When he’d handed me a bowl full of delicious, comforting food, I’d wanted to throw my arms around him. To kiss him. To show him just how grateful I was, regardless of how agonizing it’d been in the garden. How much my body still wanted his, an orgasm still unfinished, my skin humming to connect again.

Having the man I was in love with suddenly vanish right before my eyes was a gut-wrenching experience. His cock still inside me, his arms still holding me close, yet nothing in his stare. No recognition. No emotion. Just emptiness, followed by him staggering away from me, dropping me to my feet, and our bodies being torn apart, all thanks to his splintered mind.

Giving me a small smile, Kas had led me out of the kitchen to the dining room.

It’d felt strange eating at the large table still set for a party of monsters. The polished knives and forks glinted, placemats with their leather and ribbon were pristine.

There’d been no salt or pepper, no butter or other condiments to increase the flavor of the basic soup he’d made, but it’d been the best meal I’d had since arriving here. Mainly because Kas ate with me, silent and wary, but at least he stayed by my side.

Eating our meal in the extravagant dining room had allowed my mind to run wild with ghosts of the past. I studied the empty walls where mirrors used to sit, ready to refract the light cast by a few bulbs that hadn’t burned out in the chandelier above the table. Light bounced off the crystal bumblebee napkin holders, and the scent of bygone dinners seemed to swirl around us.

It truly was a decadent mansion; if only it hadn’t kept children trapped and allowed such sick monstrosities to take place.

Kas finished his dinner before me. He’d swooped to his feet, bowed stiffly, and spoke more words than he had all day. “Thank you for your help...with the wood.” He raked a hand through his unruly, long hair, keeping his eyes anywhere but on mine. I hated that he’d pulled away again. I wanted to go back to the garden where something had built inside him. Something had unfurled between us. A decision had been made in his heart.

The sex between us had been wild and real. I’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. I’d been prepared to give him everything, but then his mind had gone and ruined what could’ve been. Again.

I pushed my empty bowl away and smiled up at him, weary from physical labor but also drained from emotional trauma. “You’re welcome.” It took so much control not to grab his wrists and force him to stay with me. To tell him how I felt, what I would do for him, that he only had to drop his guard and we could be together.

But I held my tongue because as much as I didn’t want to admit it, having him switch from kissing me with passion, thrusting into me with need, to a man who didn’t see me, hear me, feel me, had reminded me that for all my daydreaming of domestication and futures, he was still unsafe.

I still risked my life living with him.

I still hadn’t freed him from his past.

Inhaling heavily, he’d looked around the room as if something would give him whatever answers he was looking for. Goosebumps had spread down my back, wondering if he’d been thinking of us just as I had. Had he come to the conclusion that I was trustworthy? That I was strong enough? Was he ready to talk to me? Could we possibly spend the evening together like any other couple, cuddled by a fire, enjoying each other’s company, before slipping into bed together?

Even as such fantasies filled my head, his gaze landed on mine and shot them dead. He flinched, unable to hide the anguish inside him, the confliction, the toppling mess of his psyche. “You’re...you’re no longer chained to me.”

I glanced down at the chain I’d wrapped around my ankle, a link-snake that formed a chunky anklet. My head tipped up as I glanced at his waist where I knew the other half of our broken chain remained locked around him, the small length tucked in his back pocket. “No, I’m not.”

He stiffened. “Will you leave? Tonight?”

My back straightened into steel. “You honestly have to ask that question?”

He shrugged, dropping his stare again. His usual guarded personality had dimmed. I didn’t know if it was from the firewood chores draining him of whatever health he’d regained or if whatever had happened between us in the gardens was worse than I realized. Either way, he was...subdued.

Quiet.