I don’t know how long I laid there crying before I fell asleep. And I don’t know how long I slept for. But I know my grumbling stomach is what woke me up.
Rolling onto my back, I rub at my salt-crusted eyes.
It’s stupid, to feel so sad over something that was probably never going to happen anyway, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since I was a little girl, I daydreamed about my perfect wedding. Some of the details changed, as the decades passed, but it was always on the beach. Somewhere exotic and warm, with waving palm trees before me and the ocean behind me. A soft dress flowing around my bare feet, my toes buried in the sand. And my hands clutching a bouquet of tropical flowers. The vibrant colors reflected back in the setting sun.
I never thought I’d have a lot of guests. Even as a child I knew we weren’t that type of family. But in my fantasy, I had a few good friends there, witness to my big day, as I said personally written vows to the man that loved me more than he loved life itself.
My eyes stare unblinkingly at the ceiling.
Instead, I said I do while being physically restrained on a couch, wearing oversized, men’s black loungewear. No bra. No makeup. Hair a wild mess. Agreeing to twisted vows that were recited to us by the devil.
Not slit his throat while he sleeps indeed.
A laugh builds in my throat.
I’m married.
I’m actually fucking married, to a man I met yesterday.
I slap a hand over my mouth, trapping the sound inside.
You cannot be laughing right now.
I need to keep my head.
It’s just words.
I can still find a way out of this.
But if you ever look at my wife like that again, I’ll remove your eyeballs from your skull. Understand?
Him calling me his wife shouldn’t mean anything.
And him threatening to blind a man, painfully, shouldn’t be endearing.
I take a deep breath.
What was in that nap?
Exhaling, I sit up. And see the door. Open.
I rub at my eyes again.
He didn’t lock me in?
Because he knows you won’t be able to leave.
My lips purse. It’s probably true. I saw the guards outside. I saw the lock on the front door, and I think he said all the windows are made out of this same magically non-breakable bullshit. And even if I got outside, I’d have to climb over a tall as hell fence, and walk…somewhere.
But still. Open door.
Correction, opening door.
The shadows stretching across the room telling me that the sun is setting, meaning I slept most of the day.
The door keeps opening and I have to squint to see who’s entering.
But no one––
A shadow closer to the ground draws my attention down, as the same huge black dog from last night lumbers into the room.
My heart instantly flies into my throat as I shuffle back on the mattress, not stopping until I hit the headboard.
“G-good boy,” I choke out.
His head cocks at my words.
“Okay,” I whisper. “This is your home, I get it.”
His smooth steps bring him closer to the bed, between me and the bathroom door.
I carefully scoot toward the other side of the bed. “We’re good. You’re a good dog. A nice dog.” I try to remember the commands that King used last night. But I can’t. I was too terrified to pay attention.
The dog gets closer, and when he sinks onto his haunches, like he’s about to jump onto the bed, I throw my hands out. “SIT!”
I shout the word, closing my eyes at the same time, bracing myself to be mauled.
But nothing happens.
Opening one eye, I see the giant dog sitting next to the bed. His chin resting on the mattress.
“O-kay…” I lick my lips looking around the room. “Okay.” I don’t need to make it out of the room, I just need to make it to the closet. I know dogs are fast, but the bed is between him and the open closet door. I can do this. “Sit,” I repeat, sliding closer to the far edge. “Stay.” I keep the hand closest to the dog up in the universal symbol of stop. “Stay…”
When I reach the edge, I drop my hands and leap for the floor.
It’s only a few steps. Just a handful of strides.
I think I’m screaming, and I vaguely remember King saying something about not running away from this dog, but it’s too fucking late for that now!
My feet skid on these accursed slippery floors, but I keep my balance and slide into the closet.
My toes catch on the rug that I forgot was in the center of the massive closet, but before I can fall, I reach back and swing the door shut.
I awkwardly land on my right arm as I hear the door slam closed behind me.
I flop onto my back. “Oh, thank fuck.” Relief almost makes me laugh again.
Until the dim light is blocked out by the giant furry face lowering to mine.
I freeze, too scared to even react, and the beast lowers his face to…lick me.
His gross tongue slides from my chin to my eyebrow, and I shriek, for a whole new reason.
“Ahh!” I shove at his neck. The short fur so much softer than I expected.
He barks, just once. And it sounded…playful?
The dog backs up one step, lowering his front half to the ground, butt still in the air, stubby wagging tail on display.
“Oh my god,” I groan, lifting my head, then letting it drop back onto the rug. “You’re not mean, are you?”
As though he understood me, the dog gives another bark before bouncing up and trying to lick my face again.
He gets one more sloppy lick in, before I’m able to shove him back. “Alright, alright! You win.” I make enough room to sit up.
“Sit.”
He sits.
Curious, I hold out my palm. “Shake.”
The big boy slaps his big paw into my hand, and I can’t help but smile as I close my fingers around his furry digits and give it two firm shakes.
I let go of his paw and he lowers his head to nudge my hand. Taking the cue, I reach up and pat the top of his head.
I don’t know how he went from terrifying to cute, but he did. And that’s good, since sitting like this, the damn creature is taller than I am.
“Pretty sneaky that you made it in here before I shut that door,” I tell him, rubbing behind his short pointy ears while my other hand presses against my chest, my heart still beating wildly. I swear, next time I’m forced to run for my life, I’ll just sit on the ground instead. Whatever happens, happens. “It’s a good thing you don’t a have a long tail, huh. It probably would’ve gotten smashed in the door and that would’ve hurt.”
The dog snuffles his reply at the same time I hear heavy footfalls enter the bedroom.
“Savannah!” King’s voice booms through the space.
I press my lips together, staying quiet.
Let him worry that his monster dog ate me.
His stomping moves across the bedroom, and I picture him checking the bathroom.
“Savannah!”
The dog turns, like he’s gonna go scratch at the door. So, I lean forward and throw my arms around his neck, holding him in place.
Another round of stomps, and what I assume is the sound of the patio doors opening, before he shouts again.
The temptation to greet his master becomes too much for the demon dog in my arms because he lets out a deep woof.
This time I’m busy shushing the dog, so I don’t hear the steps until the closet door is slamming open.
I yelp, embarrassing myself, and the dog––if the look he gives me is any indication.
“What…” King’s gaze bounces between me and the dog. “Duke, what the hell are you doing in here?”
My mouth pops open. “I’m sorry, is that the dog’s name?”
King crosses his arms, his bulk blocking the entire doorway. “What happened?”
If he can ignore my question, I can ignore his. “Did you honestly name your dog Duke?”
Hearing his name, the dog turns his head in my direction. But I manage to avoid his attempted kiss when I fall back onto the rug, letting loose the laugh that’s been boiling inside me since waking up.
I sound insane. Completely unhinged. But I just can’t.
The full belly laugh shakes my body.
The conceited level of pretentiousness is too much.
“Duke!” I choke out, dropping my hands to cover my eyes.
The dog barks and I only laugh harder.
“Yeah, alright, buddy. Your new mom is clearly having a mental breakdown right now. Let’s leave her be.”
Duke barks again.
I spread my fingers so I can see King. The expression on his face lands somewhere between annoyed and entertained.
“Any other esteemed pets around? Maybe a cat named Earl.”
King eyes me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m allergic to cats.”
My smile widens before I can stop myself, hating that I find him funny.
King rounds his lips, blowing a quick sharp whistle, and Duke jumps to all fours, standing at attention in front of his dad. “When you get yourself under control, come downstairs. I’m hungry.”
I drop my hands. “I’m not cooking for you.”
The man rolls his eyes at me. “I have a cook. And pretty sure I’m smart enough not to eat anything you make me.” He takes a step back, Duke moving with his steps. “The vows only covered slit throats, not poisoning.”
