Page 58 of Once Upon a Fable

I shrugged. “Not my problem you ventured somewhere you weren’t wanted.”

“If I’m not wanted, then let me go.”

“And risk you bringing more people to my door?” I pushed off from the wall. “No fucking chance.” Moving toward her, another bullet of desire exploded between my legs. Her fight was back. Her tenacity filled the basement. Her hatred heated my veins.

I might not like this girl butChristshe turned me on.

“What else are you hiding from me?” I dragged my gaze down her body. “Any other knives? Phones? Implements in which to kill me?”

Spreading her arms, she hissed, “My pockets are empty, you bastard. See for yourself.”

“I think I will.” I closed the distance between us.

She didn’t flinch at my closeness. Didn’t cower.

She stood taller and met me with strength, even as my hands landed on her shoulders, cupped her breasts, then curved their way along her hips to her thighs.

Desire made me tremble but practicality kept me sane. No other weapons or telecommunications hid in her pockets. Just pure, feminine flesh.

Her nostrils flared with pure hate. “Happy?”

“I was happy before you arrived and fucked everything up.”

Her breath hitched, and once again, that damn awareness prickled us. That heat. That current. That unexplainable connection.

She made me want to press her to the ground and sink inside her.Made it impossible to ignore the urge to switch her bravery to fear.

Her tone was as cold as mine as she pushed my hands off her body and snapped, “If I’m to stay here, the least you can do is let me use a proper bathroom.”

New mottling ringed her throat, bruises upon bruises. The shadows of muscles contracted as she swallowed again, doing her best to erase the pain I’d caused. “I need a bathroom.”

I cocked my head at the bucket in the corner. “There’s your bathroom.”

“I refuse to be treated like an animal.” No shame entered her eyes. No shyness existed as she barked, “Ineedthe bathroom. Do you understand? I don’t know how long you’ve kept me here, but my body isn’t coping. I need sunlight. I need air. I need a toilet that flushes and a shower to wash away my filth and a blanket that doesn’t make me itch until I bleed.”

Her voice slipped to a black hiss. “If you want to fuck me, you need me clean. If you want to keep playing these sick little power games, you need me strong. You need my body working. If you keep me down here, I will die. And you won’t be a part of that ending. I’ll perish slowly, messily. You’ll be stuck cleaning up the stench and the decay. Is that what you want?”

“What Iwantis to be left the hell alone.”

“All you have to do is open the door, and I’ll be gone. You can be alone again.”

“Alone but not safe.”

“I won’t come back. You have my word.”

“Forgive me if your word is useless.”

She sighed heavily, her fight taking its toll. Closing her eyes for a second, she inhaled hard, fighting her bruises and a cough, struggling for composure. She battled with decisions—hurt me, decapitate me, try to escape, versus accepting she could never do those things. The only way to earn an inch of compassion was to do exactly what I said.

Her chin tipped down as her shoulders forced themselves to submit instead of stiffening with rage. “I don’t even know your name.”

I crossed my arms. “My name isn’t important.”

“If you’re going to keep me, then I need something to call you by.”

“Why? I have no intention of calling you Gemma.”

“Ah-ha!” Her eyebrows shot up. “So...youwerelistening.” She softened, her hair dancing over her dirty shoulder. “Gem. Call me Gem and—”