Free Hansel 2: An Erotic Fairy Tale by Ella James Page B

Peaceful, as if she knows she’ll reach me in the end. As if she knows I’ll fold and tell her everything she wants to know. It’s false hope, because I never will. I can’t. I can’t talk about my shit with anyone, especially not the person who unknowingly witnessed all of it. Each time when Mother…
    I walk around her, moving fast, decisive. “I’m leaving,” I snap as I pass. “The Leah experiment is over.”
    But it isn’t, because as I go into the living room and start pulling on my clothes, she’s right beside me.
    “I’m going with you. C’mon, Luke. Is that your real name? Last night you said it was .” I did? “You don’t really think I’d go through all this just to leave now, do you?” She grabs my shoulder, and when I lock my eyes across the room, she grabs my chin. “Look at me.” She pulls my face down, so my gaze has nowhere to go except right into hers.
    “You made me hurt you, and I did it because I care for you. I still do, and I think you care about me, too.”
    I start to shake my head.
    She laughs. “You told me last night, they’re all me. All your subs are Leah. That’s because you still care. I think maybe you even care a lot.” Her cheeks blush as she says it, and my cock actually stirs.
    “Just for sex,” I murmur. It’s a lie, but I don’t give a shit.
    She’s shaking her head. “I don’t care what you say right now. Something’s going on with you. You zoned out in there and there’s something wrong.”
    “Just you,” I try lamely.
    She grabs my hand. Traps it in her own. She twines her fingers through mine. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. Until you tell me I’m the only one who feels this way. Who’s stuck in the past.” A single tear rolls down her cheek, and my stomach clenches. I want to hold her, to touch her, I want to tell her it’s okay. But that would be a lie.
    My brain fires up again, slow and steady. I know what I’m going to say. I look down at our joined hands as my heart pounds.
    “Okay, Leah. Come along.” I nod at the door and laugh, just a bitter huff of air. “I’m going to Mother’s house tonight.”
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Lucas
Fourteen Years Ago
 
    I blink at the red lips moving in front of me. Then I tug my gaze away from her and look at the snowy peaks behind her.
    Huh. We’re in the mountains.
    Her hand closes around my forearm and she nods at the looming house behind her. “Come on out, dear boy.”
    I look down at myself. At the gauze around my wrist. When they pushed me into the back of her SUV, someone was too rough. I can see a spot of blood, feel the tugging pain of fucked up stitches.
    Oops.
    “Come on. I’ll help you.” She holds her arms out for me, and I get out on my own, just so she doesn’t fucking touch me.
    As I stand there, underneath the giant Christmas-looking trees, she moves to stand close to me.
    “You’re my new son.” Her mouth quirks up. “I know all about your past. The lack of mother.”
    Pain shoots through me, cracking the wall of ice that’s formed all around my chest. I want to glare at her, but I’m too tired. Every part of me, so tired.
    “Poor boy.” She wraps an arm around my back. “The only mother who wanted you is dead now. That must really hurt.”
    “I killed her,” I say woodenly.
    She laughs a little. “You sound like a very naughty boy.” I take a step away from her, but she’s faster, and she clearly cares more.
    She places her hand over the bandage on my wrist and tugs. “I think I’m going to call you Hansel, my dear boy. You can call me Mother Goose.”

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