Fable of Happiness (Fable 1)

Turning on her, I glowered as she stood gracefully from the mud. Streaks on her thighs and waist, dark blond curls between her legs as she kicked away her own soaking pants.

We stood there, naked and filthy, breathing hard with what we’d done and my mind switched again. What was I thinking? This woman wasn’t sweet little Quell. This woman was too brash, too brave, too damn beautiful.

Too beautiful to be innocent.

With her hair darkened by water and her eyes shaded by night, she reminded me of another. A guest who’d taken great joy in breaking me before riding me. Who’d tied me up so I couldn’t move, gagged me so I couldn’t beg, and sucked me until I had no choice but to give her what she wanted.

Mrs. Dita had been devious in her debasement of me. She’d shared her bed and her meals. She’d touched me kindly until it pleased her to touch me cruelly.

That was the woman standing before me.

A viper who could never be trusted.

Not bothering to hide her body, Gemma dropped our heated stare and glanced at the ground. She moved away from me, back to the spot where I’d stalked and tackled her. Rain continued to splash on our skin as she ducked in the mud and grabbed a handful of gunk.

The second I saw the flash of metal in her hand, I charged forward and snatched them.

So this was her weapon. The slicing agony she’d rained upon my face.

“Hey!” She reached for my fist, her touch sending electricity through my blood even now. Even after what we’d done and the fact that I was sick to my stomach for enjoying something that only came with prostitution and persecution.

“Think you’re going somewhere?” I held up the keys to the rain, washing away as much mud as possible.

“Those are mine.” She planted both hands on her hips, bold in her nudity and scrambling my mind even more. Arching her chin at the beige 4WD, she added, “I’m done here. After what we just did, surely that will convince you that I mean you no harm.”

I chuckled blackly. “No harm?” Wiping my bleeding forehead and the numerous cuts she’d given me in our fight, I grinned thinly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what I mean. I need to go home. I need to see my mother and brother. I won’t tell anyone that you live out here. Your secrets are safe with me.”

I went still. “And what secrets are those exactly?”

She paused. Her hands slipped from her hips and crossed against her belly, subconsciously sheltering herself from me.

She didn’t answer.

Clutching her keys, I cocked my head. “Well? You think you know me now? Please...do tell. Tell me what my secrets are.”

Inhaling, her chest rose with indecision. Her eyes flickered from me to her car then back again. Clinging to courage, she tipped up her chin and said quietly, “I know you’ve been abused. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand you have some deep-seated issues. You’ve been hurt...far too many times. Your scars are external and internal. The fact that you won’t tell me your name says you have epic trust issues. The clue that you live in the middle of nowhere with technology decades outdated and no modern conveniences hints you would rather die alone than try to live with others.”

She sighed heavily. “And I get that. I do. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But...” Taking a step toward me, she gave me a soft smile. A terrifying smile. A smile that arrowed its way through my ribs and pierced my rotten heart. “I’m not your enemy. What we just did—” She shrugged helplessly, looking exactly how I felt. “I’ve never experienced that before. Ever.”

“We were fighting. It was a messy overflow from one violent act to another.”

“Perhaps.” She nodded, brushing away wet hair. “But perhaps it’s more than that and we both don’t want to admit it. I know I don’t. The more minutes that pass, the more I’m struggling with it.” She swallowed and dropped her stare, her honesty harsh in her throat. “How can I ever justify sleeping with a man who hunted me with the single intention to kill me? How stupid could I be to let you come inside me with no protection, no discussion of birth control or disease—”

I coughed. I couldn’t help it.

The cough turned into a cold snicker which morphed into a snarl. “You have nothing to worry about from me. It’s been eleven years since I’ve been with someone and I can’t get you pregnant.”

She froze. Her forehead furrowed. “Eleven years?” Her eyes widened as her thoughts ran riot. “Wait...does that mean it’s been eleven years since you’ve seen anyone or just been with someone?” Not giving me time to reply, she rushed, “And how do you know you can’t get me pregnant?”