Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

“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.