Page 217 of Once Upon a Fable

I wanted to hate him so, so badly.

And I do.

But...in other ways, I didn’t. I still remembered the man who’d hugged me as if he couldn’t breathe without me in his arms. I dreamed of the sweetest kiss he’d given. I daydreamed of the boy who’d asked me out.

If I could just get him to let down his many, many walls, perhaps I could appeal to the other elements inside him. The pieces of him that weren’t so badly abused that they’d rather attack than compromise.

Even if you did succeed, he’ll still keep you here.

Things had gone too far to let me just walk away now.

I sighed, feeling twice my age.

“I told you the silent treatment won’t sit well with me,” he murmured, eyeing up my notepad, his gaze dark and full of annoyance. We were closer than we’d been since he’d chained me in the kitchen. The sun shone through the skylight dotted with wildflowers above, highlighting the silvery scars over his forearms and the turbulent shadows darkening his gaze.

What caused those scars, those shadows?

Who could be so cruel?

“Say something.” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure you have plenty to say after seven days.”

“Nothing that you haven’t heard before.”

“I’m happy for you to repeat it. My memory has been playing tricks on me lately.”

“No more so than usual, I’m sure. And pity for you, I’m not in the repeating mood.” I scribbled another line of gibberish, keeping the paper angled away from him so he couldn’t tell his presence rattled me.

Awkward quietness fell between us. It had nails, slowly dragging silence down a chalkboard and making my hair stand on end.

“What are you writing that’s more important than me?” He sniffed, ripping the notebook from my grasp.

“Hey!”

“Ribbons led me here, a chain kept me here, but betrayals will set me free.” His forehead furrowed, scanning my nonsense sentence. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, none of your business.” I snatched it back, shoving it beneath me and the cushion.

He shifted away and rubbed his broken arm, still with the splint I’d fashioned for him. His profile revealed he bit back his temper. Like me, he physically trapped words behind his teeth and forced them down histhroat.

I fully expected him to stand and leave. My heart raced, just waiting for him to give me back my peace.

Sitting forward, he clasped his hands together. The rustle of denim on leather was such a masculine sound. His long hair and etched muscles could’ve painted him as a bad boy with a motorbike. Throw a patched jacket on him and a cigarette between his lips and he would’ve been the quintessential poster boy for all terrible decisions and reckless choices.

I couldn’t stand that even now—even with my blazing anger protecting me from whatever mind games he’d play next, I still found him unbelievably attractive. Rugged and untamed and entirely unpredictable.

It’s that unpredictability that makes him the most dangerous man you’ve ever met.

My fury threatened to overflow, threaded with pain I would not, could not show. “If you won’t leave. I will.” Standing, I charged forward, my only intention to get the hell out of the games room and somewhere that had untainted oxygen.

“Not so fast.” He grabbed the quickly unraveling chain between us and jerked me to a stop.

I almost tripped. It made my anger evolve into merciless flames. “What?” I spun around. “What do you want?”

He scanned me from head to toe. His eyes lazy, his insolent desire pricking my soul. “It’s been a week.”

I crossed my arms. “So?”

“So...” He gave me a look. A look that rolled its eyes and basically spelled out his intentions without needing anything else from him.