Page 14 of Ruinous Need
I can’t stand, I can’t move.
The dog growls in triumph.
There’s a sharp call in another language, and it stops.
A bad dream. The dog’s not real.
I sigh and bury my face in the pillows, trying to go back to sleep. The light stops me. Too much of it — harsh and unrelenting, bursting in bright red shapes on my eyelids. I don’t understand.
I open my eyes a crack and it pours in, white winter daylight, illuminating an unfamiliar room. Where am I?
I scramble back towards the headboard, taking the covers with me. They’re stark and white too. My mouth feels parched, and my head pounds with a dehydrated headache. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it’s too late.
I’m awake. In an unfamiliar room.
The last thing I remember is… Him. The man from the other night. With the black eyes, messy hair and the gold chain.I opened my mouth to accuse him of following me, and then everything went black.
I blink the sleep away. The room comes into focus again. There he is, standing with a gigantic black wolf at his feet. Or maybe it’s a husky. Either way. A terrifying creature that has no place inside.
I shake when I see how the dog looks at me, its teeth bared in a way that might seem harmless to anyone else. To me, it reads as a threat.
Some people think dogs can smile. I think they like to show off their sharp teeth, to remind us they’re wild animals.
“Nyet, Chekhov.” He’s holding the dog back by its collar. All I can focus on are its bone-white teeth, long and pointy.
“Please.” I cover my face with my hands and let out a sob of fear. It’s pathetic, but it’s all I can manage as my head spins with my phobia.
It’s stupid, when you’ve been kidnapped, to be scared of your captor’s dog.
But I was prepared to be taken away for this forced marriage. I’ve been expecting this day for years, knowing it was just around the corner. For the last three years it’s been hanging over me.
I was not prepared for there to be a dog involved.
When I peek out again, the dog is gone. The dark-haired man stands alone, staring out the window, so I can only see half his face.
“You don’t like dogs.” He raises an eyebrow and turns towards me. Those black eyes flicker over me as though he doesn’t want to meet my eyes directly.
I pull the covers tighter over me, feeling chilled by his eyes. I’m relieved to find that I’m still wearing the yellow silk dress from my date. Although someone must have tucked me into bed.
This man doesn’t have that kind of tenderness in him.
“I’ve been scared of them since childhood.”
“That will be a problem. Chekhov is around here more than I am.”
He has the faintest hint of a Russian accent, but his English is perfect. Other than the extremely stilted way he’s speaking to me.
“Well… I’m not staying.”
“Yes. You are.” His replies are infuriatingly brief. He’s back to looking out the window, only the side of that brutally sharp face visible.
I follow the line of his black tattoos with my eyes. The branch of a tree spreading over his neck. A flock of black birds, maybe ravens, soaring. A word written in Cyrillic script I can’t read.
“I am? Why?” I’m still groggy from whatever sedative he stabbed me with yesterday, and my responses feel slow and confused.
He nods slowly and rakes a hand through his tousled hair. There’s frustration in his every movement, as though he’s not pleased with this state of affairs either. “The Pakhan’s orders.” I might be imagining it, but I think his lip curls as he says the Pakhan. “He’s dealing with business elsewhere. I have to keep you safe until he returns.”
“He doesn’t think I’m safe?”
