Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

Gemma had always affected me. From that very first trespass—I’d vibrated with hunger, hatred, and hope. I’d felt that kick. That belief. That unsurpassable knowledge that she was different.

So why couldn’t I accept that? Why did it scare me so fucking much?

“What’s your favorite food?” she asked softly, ripping my attention to her and making me laugh in a weird, lost kinda way.

“My favorite food? That’s your first question?”

She turned and looked at me, her face absolutely stunning in the dark. Her hair floated on the surface while her body remained submerged. The shadows of fire danced over her cheekbones, the silver of moonlight twinkled over her brow, and the refracting blues of the water made her eyes glow bright with hazel caution.

And fuck me, she looked totally untouchable—a fallen star sent to torment me. The same star that bounced and blazed in my heart.

I swallowed as my body hardened to the point of pain. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you...do you remember your life before you were brought here?”

I paused, letting such heavy words drop into the fire beneath her.

My head pounded, and nausea swirled in my gut as I forced myself to reply. “Not really, no.”

She was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “Do you remember your parents? Your old home?”

Needing to do something, to outrun my disastrous memories and avoid her question, I squeezed the shampoo bottle and lathered my hands with papaya-smelling bubbles. Gathering her hair, I sank my fingers into the damp thickness, massaging her scalp.

“Oh, good God.” She trembled and arched under my hands.

Smugness filled me, pride that her nipples hardened to peaks and her breath feathered with need. “Has anyone ever done this for you?”

She shook her head, moaning quietly as I continued to comb soapy fingers through her hair. It seemed she’d forgotten about her interrogation for now.

“Have you been with many men?” I asked, my hands tightening against my will, holding her firm. Jealousy roared through me even as I tried to get myself under control. Why the hell had I asked that? I shouldn’t care. She’d had a life. So had I. Did it matter that hers seemed so much better than mine?

She stilled, and I took her silence to duck her under again to rinse away the papaya bubbles.

When she broke the surface, she whispered, “No one like you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I swallowed back self-hatred. “I’m not exactly treating you the way you ought to be treated. If I knew others had done what I’ve done...” My hands curled into fists, splitting the cuts I’d earned from punching the library’s walls. The pain burned as my blood oozed and blended with the water. “I’d have to rip them apart.”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“What?”

She waved her hand under the water while I poured conditioner into my palm. “I said you’re treating me rather nicely right now.”

Oh, you have no fucking idea. I’m going to worship you.

My eyes skidded down her bareness, lingering on her breasts and pussy beneath the water. She still didn’t know how deeply she’d broken me tonight. How much I wanted to apologize. How much I hungered for her.

“How many were there...in your family?” She stiffened under my hands as if she was afraid I’d snap and not answer. “I’ve seen the single beds all lined up, and I’ve listened to you calling their names in your sleep, but...I don’t know for sure.”

Maintaining my attention on running the slippery conditioner through her strands, I kept my memories firmly at bay. “Eight. Nine, including me.”

She sank with sadness. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

I shrugged. “They’re free now. At least...I hope they are.”

She looked over her shoulder, her eyelashes sparkling with water and moonlight, a little wrinkle between her brows showing that she cared. She cared a lot, and that was yet another fist to my totally ruined heart. “Why did you never leave to find them?”

I flinched, schooling myself not to cringe from recollections but instead gift them to this selfless, wonderful girl. “I had to stay to ensure they were safe.”

“Safe from who?”

“The men who ran this place.”

“But I thought...” She licked her lips, dragging my attention there and making my belly snarl to take her. “I thought you’d killed them.”

I froze. “What? How did you—?”

She ducked low. “Your nightmares...that first week after your fall. You mentioned killing the guests...and a man named Storymaker. Plus, I’d already guessed you’d done something like that when you marched me out with the shovel to that barren spot in the woods. It had the aura of a graveyard.” She flinched. “I’m sorry for accusing you of killing your family that day. I didn’t know—”

“Wait.” I felt fucking sick. “You’re apologizing to me for the day I marched you out with the full intentions of ending you?”

She snorted under her breath. “Nuts, huh?”

“Who are you?”

Her eyes softened. “I think you already know who I am.”

I do.

You’re mine.