Page 39 of Once Upon a Fable

Keeping her was an inconvenience. Keeping her meant double the work, double the preparation, and a whole shit ton of personal pain.

But I couldn’t let her go, either.

No one could know about this place.

No one.

I sat up in bed, checking for the millionth time that the locks on my door were still in place and the warning alarm was still rigged against my window. Just because no one had come to find her in over fourteen hours didn’t mean they wouldn’t come. That they weren’t waiting for my guard to drop.

But that was the thing. I’d learned the hard way that to survive, you couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder. I’d been doing it for eleven years. I’d become a master at it.

No one would touch her without my permission.

Running my fingers over one of the three knives resting in grabbing distance, I glanced at the other two. One beneath my pillow, one on the floor, and one on my current book.

If more people came, I was ready.

And if they don’t?

If it’s just you and her?

Alone?

For days? Months? Years?

I gritted my teeth.

Then we’re both royally fucked.

Tonight had shown just how weak I was. Just how screwed up I’d become by denying natural urges. I’d broken within moments of being in that cell with her. I’d gone down there to demand answers, yet instead of a calm interrogation, I’d lost all sense of who I was.

I shattered every shred of discipline.

I’d become likethem.

I drove my head into the pillow and bunched the sheet over my thighs.

Just because nightmares couldn’t find me didn’t mean the memories of what I’d done to her didn’t. They ignored my command to stay the hell away. They bombarded me with sensation.

Memories of how delicious she’d felt as I’d driven my cock against her came fast.

Her vulnerability made my balls ache to claim her.

And I knew, right down to my rotten soul, that the next time I saw her, I’d want more. I’dtakemore. I’d use her, with or without her consent, and that left me hard, hurting, and horribly eager to storm down the stairs and command her to her knees.

* * * * *

Standing in the kitchen, I fought against necessity and nastiness.

I was hungry, starving actually, after not consuming a thing yesterday. And if I was hungry, that meant my prisoner would be equally malnourished.

Which led to the dilemma I now faced.

If I fed her, that meant I intended to keep her alive.

If I didn’t, that meant I was destining her to die.

Both scenarios came with ramifications that I wasn’t prepared to deal with on an empty stomach after a sleepless night.