Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

Sucking in a shaky breath, his balance swayed, all while his eyes glowed with hunger. For the longest moment, he wobbled on two things. I visibly saw them in his face. His desire for me almost pushed him into doing something that would only make me hate him further. If he took me now, he would push me into a darkness I didn’t even want to acknowledge. A darkness I wouldn’t swim out of. A darkness that sang to me even now, that lived in my blood and turned greedy for bad things.

But if I gave into him. If he gave into himself. If we gave into the madness binding us together, then...I’ll be broken, just like him.

“Christ.” He groaned under his breath, his nostrils flaring as he called upon whatever self-control he had and swallowed the scorching hunger in his stare.

The air between us suffocated with discarded pleasure and denied connection.

What did that say about me that I’d spent a week hating him, yet now I was...disappointed.

Disappointed that he’d chosen the less likely path and favored abstinence instead.

“If we...” He swallowed again, running a hand over his face. Groaning once, he shook his head as if he couldn’t quite extract himself from the spell we’d cast together. Bracing his shoulders, he let his voice slip back into facts, cracking on lust. “If we get to exceedingly low temperatures—as it did a few years ago—we’ll need water stored instead of relying on the pipes. They freeze over, you see.”

A breath I didn’t even know I was holding exploded from my mouth. I wanted to puddle to the floor. To rock on my knees in relief that I’d avoided being ravaged by a man I was horrendously confused by and shamefully regretting that he hadn’t.

He wasn’t going to touch me.

Wasn’t going to force me.

My mind hissed with ridicule at myself and skepticism at him. Was this another game? Some sick way of making me run the gauntlet of emotions? Hatred, desire, relief, regret, finally to relax in his company from sheer exhaustion only for him to pounce on me when I did?

Would I have the energy to fight him off?

Would I even want to?

And why the hell was I dangerously angry but also disgustingly disappointed that the tension between us hadn’t detonated into all out sexual war?

It was this house, this valley, this man.

I’m losing it.

The knife slipped in my palm, my skin turning slippery with mistrust and misery.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

My rage exploded, causing me to grip the handle harder. “Am I okay? What sort of question is that? As if you care.”

He stilled, familiar temper swirling behind dark eyes. “I care.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay, then, I’m fine. Completely and utterly over the moon that I’m chained to a man who has no intention of letting me go. A man who makes it perfectly clear he can take me whenever he damn well wants.”

“I won’t touch you. Not today.” He caught my livid stare. “I told you, there are more important things.” A twisted chuckle spilled through his lips as he glanced down at his straining erection, trapped inside his jeans. “I won’t lie and say I can barely focus with the pain of needing you, but my head also fucking hurts, and I’m doing my best to do the right thing.”

“Why?”

He spread his hands as if even he didn’t fully understand. “If we focus on survival now, it means I get to keep you for far longer.” He stood taller and sniffed. “If I give in to what I want, then we both die. Miserably and sooner than I’d like.”

“The longer you keep me alive, the greater the chance you’ll die when I take you up on your offer of freedom.”

His stare went vacant for a second, zoning out to a blackness I couldn’t see. Then he shook his head and shrugged. “The longer I keep you alive, the greater the chance I have of being happy...even if it’s for a short while.”

My mouth fell open.

I wanted to scream.

Was this his new method of torture?

His honesty dug claws into my stupid heart.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” His face was urgent and intelligent. “I’m telling the truth that firewood is almost as vital as food.” No signs of deceit or danger in his voice as he inched closer. “Drinking snow works, but I’d rather not have to carry bowlfuls through Fables if I can help it. I don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m back at full strength. Plus, there are a few odds and ends to do with getting the house weathertight. Then, of course, I have the important task of figuring out what to do with our food shortage.”

He genuinely needed me to understand how his existence worked because it was my existence now too.

“I need your help, but I’m also going to teach you. You need to understand the consequences of your actions out here. You need to respect—”

“Respect you?” I stiffened, feeling judged for being naïve and using his supplies. I hadn’t deliberately sabotaged his rations, yet he hadn’t been able to forgive me.

“Respect that no one will save you if you fuck up,” he muttered. “You’re on your own.”

That final sentence reeked of his loneliness of the past decade. He’d learned that lesson firsthand. My heart lurched then shut down. My stomach fluttered with pitiful butterflies, then shot them with harsh common sense.