Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

For a few seconds, he didn’t answer me, almost as if he’d chosen not to reply, but then a quiet, almost reflective sentence floated back to me. “I don’t like heights.”

I stopped and spun to face him. I kept my eyes off the dead bunny and focused on his ruggedly, annoyingly gorgeous face. “What? But you climbed up...” I waved at the cliff. “Up there after me.”

He snorted. “Didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

He brushed past me, deliberately rubbing our bodies together even though we were in a giant meadow with plenty of space to avoid each other. “I’m sure, by now, you know letting you go was an impossibility.”

I hid my shiver from his closeness. “Because you wanted to keep me for sex.”

“Originally.” He licked his lips, his gaze skating down my naked legs to my bare toes.

I missed my boots. My soles weren’t nearly as hardened as his. Getting poked by grass stems and having to watch out so I didn’t stand on an irritable bumble bee was annoying.

He licked his lips, not trying to be seductive but achieving it far too well. “But we both know it’s something more now.”

My belly flipped.

I stepped away from him.

He cleared his throat and continued toward the hidden house, swinging that poor rabbit as if it’d personally offended him. “And to answer you fully, the ivy was planted to do exactly what it’s done. It’s eaten up the brickwork and blurred its outlines, keeping Fables secret. However, the dirt on the roof and the weeds in the gutters are thanks to years of winds, storms, and birds that have deposited shit up there, and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning.”

I followed him once the chain pulled tight between us, dragging me forward. “Do you have a ladder?”

He threw a scowl over his shoulder. “Of course.”

“Then I’ll go up. I’ll clean the roof.”

He slammed to a stop, his mouth falling open. “Why?”

“Why?” I stopped too, planting my hands on my hips. “Are you asking why I’d bother cleaning off something that helps aid the camouflage or why I’m offering to help with a task you obviously aren’t keen on?”

“The second part. Both.” He cocked his head. “Why would you help me after...everything?”

I honestly don’t have a clue.

I cocked my head too, both of us watching each other like inquisitive birds, unable to figure each other out, regularly shocked and continually intrigued, but most of all deeply aware that there was something far, far deeper swirling between us than our current captee and captor roles.

“Leaks.” I blurted, giving him a simple answer instead of a tricky one.

“Leaks?”

“If you don’t keep the gutters clean, then water will flow into the wall cavity. It will cause a leak, which will cause dampness, which means you could get sick from mold spores or catch a chill.”

“Don’t you mean we could get sick or catch a chill?” His eyes pinned me to the spot.

I knew the answer he wanted. Even with the chain around my ankle, he needed affirmation that I wasn’t going anywhere. But for all my attempts at understanding him and all my missed opportunities to leave, I wasn’t prepared to be his forever. While I was forced to stay, I would do my best to keep things civil between us. But that was as far as this odd relationship could go.

Dropping eye contact, I murmured, “I’m not yours forever, Kas. I’ll never be.”

It was my turn to brush past him, not looking back as we left the meadow and stepped over the threshold into his home.

Our home.

No, his. Always his, never mine.

The rabbit suddenly went flying past my face, landing on the kitchen bench with a gross thud. “Seeing as you’re so keen on helping all of a sudden, gut that. Slice the meat off its bones and cook it.” Stalking to the length of chain lying on the floor that permitted full freedom within Fables, instead of the shorter one currently binding us, he snatched something from his pocket, unlocked the padlock from his waist, and with a flick of his wrist, somehow reattached my part of the tether to the longer part now attached to him.

He bowed, catching me watching him. Hissing beneath his breath, he wobbled a little as his balance faltered. He bared his teeth, his mood switching to harsh animosity. “You’re free to wander, my dear Gemma Ashford.” His strange, shadowy eyes narrowed. “Free but not free, if you get my meaning. Oh, and yes, you are mine. Forever too if I choose it.”

Moving toward the hallway leading to the servant’s stairs and the foyer beyond, he added, “I expect to eat in an hour. All that exercise has made me hungry.”

What the hell is his problem?

I probably shouldn’t have said what I had. But then again, had he truly been affected by my muttered ultimatum or had his concussion made him switch personalities again? I eyed him warily, looking for a sign that he might snap and attack me. “And if I don’t do what you command?”

Spinning, he wedged both hands against the doorframe, looking as if he’d been strapped to a cross or some mercenary gloating over his enemies. “Then I’ll give you a lesson in the culinary arts.” His smile was black. “After all, I have read every book in this library, and there are quite a few good recipes. Some even include organs, entrails, and blood.” He pointed at the rabbit. “Waste not, want not, and all that. I suggest, if you just want a nice juicy thigh, you get moving.”