Fable of Happiness Book One Page 6

  Maybe that was all this was. Nature giving me what I needed because I wouldn’t take it for myself.

  Or maybe she’s a spy. She’s one of them. She’s been sent to destroy you.

  My hands balled.

  No way.

  No way would I let her take from me again. Not now. Not after every-fucking-thing I’d done.

  I wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. Not until I had answers on why and how she’d found me. But if I ended up keeping her, she’d almost certainly beg for death. Even now, my belly clenched for something I hadn’t had access to in a very long time. If I kept her, I wouldn’t have the self-control not to take everything I could from her body.

  And that knowledge made me rage. Made me hard. Made me hate.

  With a growl of scorching loathing, I ducked and slid my arms under her shoulders and knees. Hoisting her from the floor, she didn’t make a sound. Didn’t wake up. Didn’t acknowledge me in any way.

  A knife fell from her jacket pocket, striking the bones of my foot.

  Fuck.

  A compass tumbled after it, rolling under the bed.

  I flinched and backed up with her balanced in my arms. My speed jostled her. I froze, searching her face to see if her eyes would open.

  She didn’t wake.

  Perhaps she wouldn’t. Maybe I’d done irreparable damage, and I wouldn’t get my answers, after all.

  Fear filled me as I stalked from the bedroom with the stranger in my arms, leaving her knife that had already hurt me on the carpet.

  It wasn’t fear for what I’d done to her but fear of what would happen to me.

  What if others came?

  I had weapons and was skilled at defending my home, but if they came in a mob? If they arrived for war, my carefully crafted existence would be over.

  I glowered at her as I descended the staircase, her weight hardly noticeable in my arms.

  How dare you.

  How fucking dare you ruin my life.

  I hated her.

  I downright despised her.

  My cock twitched as I reached the foyer, the heavy length hitting my thighs as I headed toward the back of the house and the hidden door beneath the staff staircase. My balls throbbed as a whiff of her scent invaded my nose. She smelled like leaves and earth. A musty combination that laced the air in the valley, thanks to living in a jungle of ivy and tree branches.

  My skin burned where she rested against my chest.

  My body tightened, eager to take everything from her.

  I wanted her.

  I didn’t like her. I didn’t know her. I still planned on killing her, but fuck, the longer I held her, the worse those urges became. The hotter and fiercer my need grew.

  I trembled and gritted my teeth, cringing at her closeness.

  Get away from her.

  Rushing to open the cellar door, I almost dropped her as I pulled it wide. She moaned a little as I tightened my hold.

  Christ, who would’ve thought a quiet moan would almost buckle my knees?

  My mouth watered. My mind turned black. My cock thickened to excruciating levels.

  Tightening my hold again, wishing I could squeeze the life out of her and the disgusting lust out of me, I climbed down another set of stairs. Unlike above ground, these steps were entirely entombed in the dark.

  My blood continued to hum with desire as I climbed down, lower and lower. Sixteen steps to the bottom. Fourteen steps to the cell. Ten steps in either direction marked the size of the square dungeon.

  A dungeon that lurked beneath a house full of finery, slowly festering with filth and pain.

  The air turned stale, the temperature shifting from muggy warmth to dank coldness. My chest burned where I touched her, but my back welcomed the chilly dampness. It helped soothe the chaos inside me. The bloodlust and the violence.

  I felt as if I had a fever. I was sick, and I was shaking. I wish she’d never fucking come here.

  Striding deeper into the chilly dungeon, I didn’t care about the dark. This place was more familiar to me than any place in the valley.

  I didn’t pause to turn on the lights. I’d memorized every divot and imperfection. I rushed to drop her so I could run.

  Reaching the wall, I bent and lowered her to the ground. Barely visible, she slumped to the side as I let her go, her shoulder bashing against the floor as she slid into a fetal position. Her head cracked on the concrete.

  The darkness was almost absolute. Small slivers of light crept in from the stone where the mortar had crumbled to dust, thanks to ivy roots wriggling their way through the foundation.

  But I saw enough to study her. To drink in the youngness of her. The innocence of her sleep. The collar of bruises I’d caused around her white, breakable neck.

  I waited.

  Eyes didn’t open.

  Lips didn’t move.

  Hair slipped over her face, obscuring what I’d done.

  Straightening up, I fought with myself again.

  Just do it.

  Get it over with.

  The urge was almost unbearable—almost as unbearable as the uncommon feeling of lust.

  I wanted both. To touch and to kill. To take and to ruin.

  But I fought for patience.

  Scanning the tiny cell, I checked the bucket was there, nice and clean from previous inhabitants. The fresh water tap still dripped through the wall, providing hydration. And a scratchy blanket—that was probably woven with thorns and rat hair with how uncomfortable it was—rested neatly folded in the corner.

  If she woke, she’d stay alive for however long it would take to get my answers.

  And then, I’ll kill her.

  I wouldn’t be reckless this time.

  I would restrain myself in the lust department.

  I would get my answers, and then she’d be gone.

  She’s secure and can’t leave.

  I can wait.

  Needing air, I spun and crossed the ten steps back to the door.

  My cock bounced on my thighs in frustration. My heart kicked with age-old hate. And I swung the heavy wood closed.

  I locked the padlock and palmed the key.

  I sprinted back up the stairs to the sun.

  * * * * *

  I stayed away for nine hours.

  Nine eternal hours where I stood by my window in the dormitory and drove myself to madness, weighing my options. Had she woken? Had she tried to escape? Would others appear from the forest any moment now, looking for her? Why was she here?

  What does this all mean?

  Was this secret place no longer a secret? And if that was the case, what the fuck did it mean for me and the history still haunting these four walls?

  My thoughts collided and spun. My body was on high alert. My nerves flayed to their breaking point. My eyes ached from staring outside so intently, watching every leaf and glowering at every rodent.

  I flinched at the smallest movement. The tiniest breeze in the foliage had me tensing and reaching for my butcher's knife. My heart rate never calmed, and shaky anxiety cloaked over the raw hunger in my blood, leaving me short-tempered, violent, and starving.

  I hadn’t eaten all day.

  I should’ve fucking eaten.

  Go then. Cook. Stay strong.

  I shook my head, fisting my knife tighter as dusk descended. It became harder to study the valley. No way would I let down my guard. No way would I sleep or eat or even sneeze until I knew where that woman had come from, how she’d found me, and why.

  My cock twitched, reminding me of yet another need that I couldn’t forget about.

  Knowing she was down there.

  Soft and fragile. Imprisoned and mine.

  It was enough to drive all sanity out of my mind and throw myself to baser instincts.

  She’d trespassed on my turf. She was the one who’d entered uninvited. She was the one who found me, not the other way around. Didn’t that give me a right to take what she’d already taken from me?

  Sh
e’d taken my privacy, my secrecy, my very way of life.

  The least she could do was spread her legs for me.

  My belly clenched as my mind filled with writhing limbs and thrusting hips.

  Christ.

  I clutched the windowsill, digging my nails into the wood so I didn’t reach for my cock and seek out the tingling pleasure it promised. I’d never, not once, given in to the urge. I endured wet dreams as I came in my sleep. I sometimes howled like the coyotes when I woke and thrashed in bed, needing a release. But not once had I put myself out of my misery.

  Answers to why I didn’t lurked in the back of my mind. If I dared open those heavily fortified doors and pull out my sordid past, I would remember precisely why pleasure and fornication was the vilest sin on earth.

  However, I had enough problems to deal with tonight without torturing myself with the past.

  Night fell, blackness swiftly eating up the last remaining light. Creatures turned vocal with the darkness, making my skin prickle as I strained to hear foreign sounds that weren’t welcome.

  Were they out there? Watching me watching them? Were they waiting for reinforcements before entering my property?

  Unlike the woman below, they might be smart. She’d had no thought to her safety. No respect for someone else’s home. She’d strolled in as if this ivy-smothered building was hers.

  My teeth ground together.

  Nothing here belongs to her.

  It’s all mine.

  Looking one last time out the window, I allowed my back to relax, my knife to lower, and my rage to fade.

  I supposed, after nine hours of her disappearance, if anyone was out there waiting for her to return, they would’ve given up being patient by now and raided my home. They would’ve appeared with their demands and either gotten killed in the process or succeeded in killing me.

  The resident pack of coyotes slinked through the darkness, and a few weasels helped themselves to a drink out of the bowl that I’d placed by the back door for that purpose. Nothing was on alert. No creature acted as if anything was different.

  I had to trust that they had better noses than me for sniffing out traitors.

  I was alone.

  Which meant the time had come.

  I had to go back down there.

  Fuck.

  Dressing slowly now that a chill existed in the air, I hoisted on my ruined slacks and shrugged into the taupe shirt with destroyed cuffs. Pulling my hair back, I secured it at my nape with a rubber band from the study.

  Shoving the key into my pocket, I clenched my jaw as I stomped down the stairs, bypassed the kitchen, and opened the cellar door. My stomach growled with discomfort, reminding me once again that I hadn’t given it any food.

  Later.

  Once she’s dealt with.

  Once I have my answers.

  My bare feet slapped on the damp concrete stairs, loud in the night.

  Even though I’d memorized the cells below the house, I flicked on the lights, wanting illumination to see her, to watch her lies—to do my best to see her truth.

  Because one thing was for certain—she would lie.

  I’d strangled her, imprisoned her, and now I’d come to interrogate her. She’d hate me almost as much as I hated her. She wouldn’t be cooperative, and I was prepared to do what was necessary to get information.

  The moment she’d stepped into my valley, her fate had been sealed. She wouldn’t be leaving here while breathing. And for that, I should’ve felt guilty. Instead, all I felt was absolute authority and obligation to be as merciless as required.

  Moving toward the heavy door blocking her cell, I sucked in a breath. I swallowed to lubricate my throat, preparing for words that I hadn’t spoken in sentence strings for over a decade.

  Thanks to my lonely existence, I’d embraced more animalistic tendencies. I didn’t talk. I didn’t fuss over my appearance. I’d forgotten what it was like to hold a conversation and be a man instead of a beast.

  That was all I was now.

  A beast.

  A forest dweller who wasn’t fit for society.

  And it was all their fault.

  The day I was born, a curse was put upon me.

  That curse grew up with me from boyhood to man. I had no mark to prove it. No doctor to confirm it.

  But I knew.

  A blackness had attached itself to me, and I was cursed.

  So...what are you going to do with her?

  My hands balled as I paced outside the cell where I’d thrown her.

  I don’t know.

  That was a lie.

  I knew what I should do.

  I’d told myself countless times.

  So...do what you know is required.

  I stopped.

  I glared at the heavy wooden door, dropping my gaze to the rusty padlock that’d continued its role of imprisonment for far too long.

  Get it over with.

  I pulled the key from my pocket.

  I opened the door.

  I stepped inside to face my enemy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MY EYES COULDN’T GET used to the harsh brightness of the screaming light bulb above me. White haze danced over my sight, obscuring the barren cell that I’d woken in.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been locked in the dark, but it’d been long enough to have to use the bucket I’d found in the corner and drink out of the tap like some trapped animal.

  Unlike earlier today, when I’d complained of being overly dressed and too hot, now I was grateful for my windbreaker and layers.

  It was cold.

  Very cold.

  Damp and deep, seeping into my bones and making me shiver.

  I’d like to say I attempted to escape—that I pounded my fists on the door and clawed at the walls for a weak spot—but my head ached so badly that I’d dry-heaved when I’d first exploded back into consciousness.

  My throat burned. My neck was swollen and sore to the touch. Bruises throbbed over my shoulders and back from thrashing beneath his hands.

  And my knife was missing.

  Flashes of being strangled kept torturing me.

  Pieces of him chasing me, killing me, and then leaving me to rot in this place.

  God, the images wouldn’t stop.

  The only comfort I had was my personal locator beacon. My cell phone was utterly useless, the screen lighting up the stagnant dark when I’d checked my leggings pockets and found both devices still there.

  I had to admit, I’d been shocked that he hadn’t taken them off me. Why had he taken my blade and compass but not my PLB or phone?

  Had he believed he’d killed me and just stored my body down here to decay? Or was his intention to keep me alive and his captive? In which case, why permit me to keep the very things that might enable me to escape?

  Who was he?

  Why had he been naked?

  Why had he chosen to hurt me before I’d even explained why I was in his house?

  With fear coursing through me, I’d used my time as his prisoner wisely. After taking care of my needs and drinking what I could around my bruised throat, I settled back against the wall and confirmed my phone was of no use in my current no-reception predicament.

  Doing my best to stay strong and smart, I turned it off to conserve the battery.

  That hurt.

  It slashed at my heart to watch the glow of communication die in my hand, cutting me off from my brother, my fellow climbers, my life.

  You’ll survive this. You’ll see.

  Wrapping those brave words around me, I pulled out my PLB. The black piece of technology was cumbersome and weighty. So many times I’d been tempted to put it in my backpack instead of stretching my legging pocket with its bulk.

  But now, sitting in a cold puddle in a wretchedly dark cell, I cried tears of gratefulness.

  This tiny black device would save my life. It was a gift.

  Salty droplets tracked down my cheeks as I pulled out the antenna, flick
ed open the case, and pressed the button.

  I’d hoped for a light to flash. Some announcement that my signal for help had been received, but it remained exactly as it had been. Cold and immune to my terror.

  Vaguely, I recalled the shopkeeper giving me a lesson on it when I’d bought it years ago. He said it was a one-way street. The signal would be sent out, but no acknowledgment of it being received would be sent back.

  The anxiety that granted wasn’t fair.

  Had it worked?

  Will they come for me?

  All I knew was I had to keep it serviced, check the batteries regularly, and be prepared to wait a few days for rescue. Satellites needed to make two passes minimum to confirm my location, and that was only if it had direct access to the starry sky.

  Who knew if GPS could track me down here, in a stone basement in the middle of nowhere? The not knowing and lack of confirmation were the worst torments imaginable as hours ticked onward and the chill in my bones solidified to ice crystals.

  I felt like I’d shatter from stress and shivering.

  I rocked against the wall. I crawled around the perimeter until I found a blanket that itched and prickled. I bundled myself up and did my best not to slip deeper into fear.

  Tears prickled my hazy stare as the bright lightbulb flickered above me, bringing my jumpy attention back to the present. The bulb seemed to glow brighter, glinting off the antenna of the PLB, mocking me.

  Will someone come?

  Or am I on my own?

  Pressure built in my already sore throat. My pulse shot skyward, sending blood to pound in my fingertips and toes.

  Why had the lights come on?

  Was he coming?

  What is he going to do?

  My mother was wrong.

  I wasn’t blessed.

  Not anymore.

  I’d made a stupid, stupid choice. A choice that’d totally derailed my safety and success and left me alone, in pain, and—

  The door clanged as if something heavy bashed against it, followed by the screech of metal pulling through metal.

  Stand up.

  Stand up!

  Scurrying to my feet, swaying as light-headedness caught me, I blinked in panic.

  The door opened.

  I braced myself against the wall, tilting my chin and balling my hands. My knees quaked, and nausea bubbled in my belly. I was weak and lost and dreadfully afraid.