Page 77 of Once Upon a Fable

“Quiet,” he hissed. “I feel nothing.”

“You feel something.” I dropped my stare to his erection. “If you want me as badly as you seem to, then beniceto me. You can choose to be my friend instead of my enemy.”

He laughed—a tattered noise that sounded as if it’d been wrenched from bleeding memories. “I don’t have friends.”

“Did you hurt them?” I spread my arms wide at the empty mansion. The ivy-covered palace hidden deep within a valley. “Is that why no one lives with you? You killed any friends and family like you keep threatening to do with me?”

His muscles bunched into knots as rage coated his face. “I’d shut up if I were you.”

“If words are my only weapon, I’ll use all that I can, thanks.” Bracing myself, I asked, “What happened here? What happened to you? Who gave you those scars?”

For the first time, shutters slammed over his gaze, blocking me from reading him. His hands shook as he threw his plate against the wall, smashing the crockery and sending his untouched carrot and breadcrumbs flying. “Questions like that will hurt you far fucking worse than they’ll hurt me.” Any emotion he might be feeling—any ability at sniffing out his truth vanished as black hate blazed over his features.

My skin prickled with electricity.

My heart hiccupped.

The entire cell filled with war.

He was a stranger.

He was my jailer.

Yet in that raw, vicious moment, my body sprang to life. My core clenched to be filled. Wetness gathered from all the shadows that existed inside me. I’d had those shadows for far longer than I could remember. I wanted things that went against my wishes. The strangeness I’d felt all my life. The sense of searching for something—wanting danger and darkness that went against every rule of living a safe and normal existence.

I felt linked to him.

Connected in some awful, unthinkable way.

I was more in tune and aware of him than I had been with any other male.

And it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right that I’d found such an intense physical reaction with someone who lived alone, looked like a forgotten castaway, and constantly threatened my right to live.

Why him?

Was I that starved of contact that I’d begun to seek it in cruelty instead of kindness? Was that why I hadn’t met anyone normal?

BecauseIwasn’t normal? Because I had a soul that was veined like granite. Light parts, black parts, quartz, and impurities combined.

Perhaps it was the tightrope of life and death I currently balanced on.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep and abundance of adrenaline—whatever my messed-up reasons, molten heat built between my legs.

His nostrils flared, and he swooped to his feet. A seam on his shirt ripped further as he jerked with need. Reaching for me, he grabbed my shoulders.

“Kneel.” His teeth flashed. His fingers bit into my skin, manhandling me from cross-legged to kneeling.

I fought him. “Let me go.”

“Kneel.” He pulled me forward, arranging me against my will. The moment I balanced on my knees, he tore at his fly, tearing the zipper down and popping the button. The slacks fell gratefully to his ankles, giving up their attempt at keeping him covered.

His bare cock did its best to stand to attention, thick with need and desire. However, his large size meant it hung heavy, stabbing into my chest instead of the ceiling. He quaked against the contact. His eyes hooded, and his voice turned into blackness itself. “Touch it.”

I scowled and rocked backward. “No.”

“No?” His eyebrows shot into his wild, roguish hair. “No is no longer an option for you. Do. What. I. Say.”