Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

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?”