Fable of Happiness Book One Page 14

  I would’ve unzipped and fisted and worked myself to another release all while she bent over, silently stepped into the underwear, and slid them up her thighs.

  I swallowed a groan.

  She didn’t dress seductively. She did it quickly with jerky hands as if my eyes on her made her twitch, but no matter the perfunctory motions, she couldn’t stop the electricity sparking between us.

  Maybe she didn’t feel it, but I sure as hell did.

  I doubted I needed batteries and solar power to work the lights for Fables. Her power alone could light up this entire valley—shining spotlights into all the dark corners, the blackened corridors, and the many shadowy rooms where a thousand secrets refused to die.

  The satiny pants clung to her legs as she pulled them to her waist. The outline of her spine, flanked with powerful muscles, flexed as she slipped a white T-shirt over her head, followed by the gray sweater.

  The clothes were a little tight, adding to the sex appeal of her strength.

  With her nakedness now covered, her shoulders slipped back with more confidence. She slowly turned to face me with balled hands and a cool look in her eyes. “Thank you for the clothes.” She licked her lips. “Are there any spare amenities I can borrow? A toothbrush? Hairbrush? Maybe some face moisturizer?”

  I stayed where I was on the bed. I couldn’t get a read on this girl. She refused to be afraid of me. She remained polite despite her entrapment. She obeyed me when I commanded pleasure, and apart from her moment of emptiness inside the bathroom, she’d shown no signs of breaking.

  She would’ve made a good member of our team...before the end came.

  The Fable household would’ve benefited from her more than most. She would’ve been worth any price if she continued to protect her soul and trade her body for things that benefited her survival.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked quietly. “Any spare toothbrushes at least?”

  “Vanity. Bottom drawer.” I waved toward the bathroom. “There’s a kit.”

  “A kit?”

  “Spare items that a guest might require during their stay here.”

  Her eyes flared. “So, you do have guests? What is this place? Some type of Air BnB?”

  I scowled. “I have no idea what that is.”

  “It’s a third-party program that allows homeowners to rent their properties to vacationers. Kind of like a hotel, but you stay in their personal homes.”

  That sounded godawful. “You sleep in someone else’s bed?”

  She shrugged. “Well, yes. Isn’t that the same principle of a hotel? Multiple people sharing the same bed? The sheets are changed, but the mattress is the same.”

  My skin crawled, and I shot off the bed I was sitting on.

  Fables wasn’t that sort of place. We weren’t a venue for hire. Randoms couldn’t just pay to stay here. To be invited meant you were elite. To have a permanent bedroom here meant you were untouchable.

  “Get the kit and finish whatever you need to do. I’ve wasted enough time on you.” Crossing my arms, I lowered my voice to a snarl, “Hurry.”

  She backed up, keeping her eyes on me as she crossed the bedroom to the bathroom. With a wary look, she darted inside. The sound of a drawer opening, followed by the zipper of a leather bag echoed back.

  Tracking her on silent feet, I leaned against the doorframe as she unwrapped a toothbrush, squirted a new tube of paste onto the bristles, and almost sank in relief as she tasted minty freshness.

  I never looked away as she cleaned, spat, rinsed, then applied the expensive moisturizer to her face before quickly running a brush through her shower-damp hair. My cock never deflated, and by the time she was done, I danced on the decision to make her serve me again.

  She was nice and clean. Skin dewy fresh and lips just begging to be messed up with my cock.

  Placing everything neatly back in the bag, she zipped it up and went to put it in the drawer.

  “Keep it,” I said, pushing off the door and wincing at the pain between my legs. “Take it with you.”

  “Take it where?” Her eyes met mine as she spun to face me.

  “Where do you think?” I stepped toward her. “Your accommodations, of course.”

  She balked. “Wait...you’re taking me back down into the cellar?”

  I laughed with ice. “You didn’t think I’d upgrade you to this room, did you?” Waving my arm at the opulence and the many escape routes, I shook my head. “And give you the keys to run? This isn’t secure. We both know that.”

  Even with a leash, she could possibly get free if I wasn’t here to supervise.

  I wasn’t prepared to take that chance.

  She huffed. “I won’t run. Didn’t I already prove that to you?”

  “You merely proved your limits. You let bodily functions get in the way of your ability to stay strong.”

  And you don’t?

  The fact that I couldn’t touch my own cock. That I could handle anything—literally any-fucking-thing—yet I still couldn’t get past my aversion of self-sex. If I was braver, I had the answers inside my messed-up skull. Somewhere inside me, I knew why that was. But if I had my way, I would never remember.

  Fury blazed through her gold-hazel eyes. “You’re saying you find me weak?”

  “I’m saying you need to get over such things if you’re to survive here.”

  “And that turns you on? Watching me use the bathroom in front of you?” Her lips turned into a sneer as she glanced at my stiff erection. “Any other fetishes I should be aware of?”

  “Not a fetish. Just a part of life.”

  A fragment of memories shot into my head. The soothing tones of a girl I’d once loved. The sobs of a boy I’d hugged in the dark. The stench of a communal bucket being used by all of us. We hadn’t had the luxury of being given a bathroom. We hadn’t been given privacy. Fuck, our bodies hadn’t been ours since the day we’d stepped through the cave and entered this place.

  Christ.

  Ice water shot down my spine as I shoved such things away and slammed the door in my mind.

  What the fuck?

  That shouldn’t have happened.

  I’d spent a decade forgetting. I would forget for the rest of my life. Until she’d arrived, I could go months in blissful oblivion, alone and not fully recalling why, content in my loneliness because I knew there were things far, far worse out there.

  First the sleepwalking and now remembering while I was still awake?

  What’s next?

  Full-blown recollection of things I couldn’t afford to recall? What if my nightmares entered my reality again? What if I couldn’t shut it off?

  Panic made me angry, and anger made me short-tempered. Snatching her by the wrist, I barked, “Enough. Time to go home.”

  She pulled against me as I dragged her from the bathroom. Her socked feet slid on the marble tile, skidding into me. “Wait. I don’t want to go back down there.”

  “I don’t care what you want.”

  “Please. Lock me in here. Let me have access to sunlight and a toilet, for god’s sake.”

  Hauling her through the room, I glowered at the crimson and silver space. Luckily, no other memories sprang forth. Only the vague sensation that something bad had happened here, and it was time for me to go.

  Reaching the door, I changed the subject. I deflected back onto my tempting little trespasser. A prisoner I should probably get rid of but still wanted far too badly. “How many exits do you count? Be honest, I’m curious.”

  Her forehead furrowed, her arm still squirming in my hold for freedom.

  I waited for her to play dumb. To pretend she hadn’t searched every wall, nook, and window for signs of easy breakouts. However, she once again surprised me when she stopped fighting and went with honesty instead. “I really shouldn’t say this, but at first glance, I see one in the bathroom and at least three in this bedroom.”

  The door, window, and balcony.

  I stopped pulling her, and we stood
far too close. So close those damn currents of energy crackled between us, making my belly coil and thighs bunch. “The windows being the obvious choice.”

  She nodded reluctantly. “That and this door. I remember the layout of the house. If I could pick the lock, I could run down the corridor and out the front door.”

  “There aren’t any locks.” I clenched my jaw against hazy awareness of why that was. Why this entire place didn’t have a single lock on any door or window, apart from the cells below and my rigged attempts in my dorm. I’d made deadbolts for the exterior doors but hadn’t bothered with the internal ones. It’d been yet another mind game. A power trip to those unfortunate not to be guests here but permanent residents.

  “Is that why you won’t let me stay in this room?”

  “What do you think?” I sneered.

  “I think I proved you can trust me.”

  I laughed. “It’ll take a lot more than that to earn my trust.”

  “Tell me, and I’ll do it.” Her green swirling eyes melded with brown, firing with so many things. The intensity of her made my heart pound. She made equal urges of violence and protection fight for space in my chest.

  It couldn’t be permitted to continue.

  Shutting everything down, locking her out of my goddamn heart and head, I dug my fingers into her wrist and dragged her down the corridor.

  “Wait.” She once again tried to free herself. “Stop! Let’s talk about this—”

  I barely even noticed.

  I was done with this.

  I wanted to be alone.

  Her pleas, threats, and curses made no difference as I relocated her from splendor to squalor. Down the stairs and into the dank darkness.

  “Sleep well.” I gave her a shove, tossing her inside the cell before slamming the door in her face.

  * * * * *

  That night, I didn’t sleepwalk.

  I dreamed.

  I fell into the pits of my desolated and demented mind, coating myself in filth I could never be free of, drowning in memories that I refused to recall.

  And I died a little more.

  I’d been dying ever since I’d arrived in this putrid house.

  “You all good?”

  I raised my bruised head and forced my eyes to focus on Zanik. It took effort to see again. To summon the will to pay attention instead of wishing on a minutely basis to be blind.

  Zanik stood as straight as his last beating would allow him. His bronze skin a shade lighter with agony. His black eyes and midnight hair were as feral as the rest of us.

  He said his father was Jamaican and his mother Irish. They’d been good parents. Until they weren’t.

  I grunted a non-answer and pushed off from the door where I’d been swaying with the sudden urge to vomit. Climbing the stairs had pushed me to my limit.

  I swallowed bile, ignored my wounds, and shuffled to my assigned dormitory bed. I didn’t bother stripping or washing or even pissing in the bucket. My body was done. I had nothing left. I fell face-first onto the uncomfortable mattress and groaned in pain.

  Feet whispered their way toward me. The presence of a boy trapped in hell just like me hovered by my arm. His closeness set off the chain reaction inside me. I couldn’t have someone close to me right now. Not after what they’d done tonight.

  But Zanik was like me.

  He cared even while they broke him. He wouldn’t let me suffer alone even though that was all I wanted.

  When his hand stroked my back, the pain of his kindness almost tore me in two.

  A heavy sob clawed up my throat, but I choked it back down.

  No one cried here anymore.

  No one.

  “You’re okay, Kas. We’ll protect you for the rest of the night. Won’t we, guys?”

  My ears pricked as the other unfortunates in this prison all spoke as one. A mumble of misery with our messed-up brotherhood sisterhood.

  “We’ll watch over you, Kassen.”

  Female blended with male.

  There were no separate bedrooms for different sexes. No screens for privacy when we changed or had to go to the bathroom. We were as intimately linked as any person—family or friends could be.

  Forcing strength I didn’t have into my body, I sat up. I flopped onto my ass and gritted my teeth against the pain resonating from my asshole to the base of my skull.

  They’d been extra ‘attentive’ tonight. Rough and ruthless. Not sparing me an inch.

  A girl with blond hair, a gap in her teeth, and pretty hazel eyes slid off her squeaky bed and came to me. We stared at each other for a moment. Her pity for me was obvious. My pity for her was equally visible. We all stank of pity for one another.

  Wordlessly, she opened her arms and crawled into bed with me.

  I flinched against her contact.

  I didn’t want to be touched and had long lost the privilege of touching another, but she didn’t give me space to become rotten with what they’d done. They could take away so much from us, but here, in this tiny dormitory, we all did our best to patch each other up, glue up our holes, sticky-tape our breaks, and not shatter completely.

  Her small body fitted against me, and Zanik joined our awkward hug. He sat on my other side, wrapping his arms around me and Quell.

  And we just sat there.

  We sat there for so long, exhaustion found me, and I started to slip into sleep.

  I was only vaguely aware as more of my family joined us on my bed.

  Nyx and Jareth, Maliki and Sarez.

  My heart tried to heal but, instead, tore itself to pieces, knowing that our fractured unit wasn’t complete. Elise, Neo, and Wes were still serving.

  I’d been the first to finish. I wished I’d been the last so the others could be here. Safe in the arms of each other. Protected from more pain.

  Tomorrow, I would try all over again to figure out how to save them. I would do my chores and get on my knees, all while seeking out the weaknesses of this place.

  But until then, I would sleep. I would heal. I would grow stronger and smarter so I could keep the promise we’d all made.

  The promise that had been bound in blood almost two years ago.

  It’d been Nyx’s idea.

  The shy little redhead who was the youngest of us all. She’d tried to climb out the window. She’d been caught. Whipped. Brought back bleeding. But instead of crying like so many of us did in our first year here, she’d merely smeared the blood over her fingers and approached us one by one.

  “We’ll survive another day.”

  I’d been the third one she’d marked, but I’d been the first to grab the large splinter from the decaying window frame and prick my finger. I’d run crimson over her in return, repeating what she’d said. “We’ll survive another day.”

  The rest of them followed until we all had dried blood and healing puncture wounds scarring us with our oath.

  We’ll survive another day.

  And we had.

  Another and another and another.

  Until finally, there was no more to endure.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DAWN CAME AND WENT, according to the slivers of light through the crumbling mortar. Stomach rumbles demanded food, then gave up and went silent. The urge to pee grew from annoying to unavoidable. The shame of using a bucket once again shoved me closer to my limit.

  How could he throw me back down here?

  Why, when he had an untold number of unused rooms above, did he keep me locked in filth? Surely, it would be to the molester’s advantage to have me clean and hygienic? Surely, I had rights as a prisoner to basic facilities and care?

  Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stewed in the dark.

  I need a weapon.

  Next time he comes for me, I’ll stab him instead of blow him.

  I’d been too accommodating, too weak.

  If I didn’t fight, this would be my life now. Abused and discarded. Pulled from the darkness to perform a sexual act, then shoved back in
the moment I’d pleasured him.

  My hands curled into fists.

  I’m done.

  I need a new plan.

  As my mind whirled with concepts of freedom, I listened to the faint twittering of birds outside. While they sang, I picked up the tiny shattered pieces of glass from my broken cell phone, looking for a shard that could be used as a blade.

  He’d taken the two devices last night.

  What had he done with them? Would the signal still work even in pieces? Were people still coming to find me?

  Josh will be looking. I know my brother. He’ll be furious I haven’t checked in.

  My teeth sank deeper into my cheek in worry.

  Wait.

  Didn’t I tell him to wait five days before raising hell?

  How long had it been?

  My mind was scrambled—second-guessing the hours I’d spent in this godforsaken basement. Three days or four? Two or five? Without access to the sun’s cycle, it all seemed the same.

  While running my thumb along a fragment of glass, the sound of the door opening wrenched my head up. The light bulb overhead blazed bright, making me squint and cower in the sudden flood of illumination.

  Then he stepped in.

  Once again, he had two plates. A mismatch of food like before. A peach this time, along with a hard-looking bread roll, raw carrot complete with its green top, and what seemed like a ramekin filled with honey.

  My stomach growled, perking up at the thought of being fed. That was the only part of me pleased to see him. All other parts hissed in warning to leave me the hell alone.

  Last night, after his rare show of compassion by leaving me alone in the bathroom, gratefulness had cultivated warmer feelings toward him. I’d wondered—just for a second—if my plan at being amiable and obedient was working.

  I’d granted him an orgasm without too much hate in my heart. I’d let myself soften as he’d trembled under my hand. I’d had more hope than hate if I was honest...clinging to belief that honesty would get me free.

  But once again, I’d been so stupid.

  I hadn’t attacked him or fought. I hadn’t cursed or put up any sort of fuss.

  I was ridiculous.

  I mean, I’d dressed in front of him for goodness sake! I’d allowed him to command me, all because I believed each glimpse he earned of my body, each secret that I shared would slowly grant me his trust. Trust I could use to make my escape.