HE HAD TO admit; the forest that had been his prison was more of a home for him this past week than the years he spent in that godforsaken lodge.
He had a warm, furred mat to sleep on in front of the fireplace. Blankets that kept him heated, fresh clean water that tasted better than anything he had in the town, and food that kept his belly full.
He had expected to entertain her the way he entertained the townsfolk; on the bed, making her toes curl while he sullied himself with her juices.
Instead, she put him to work.
Cooking was not one of his original chores, but while he appreciated a free meal, he could not stand the lack of spices and salted dried meats. It took several hijacked meals with fresh herbs to convince her to let him handle the small stove. She kept the knives close to her, but at least he could supervise.
Though her expression did not change, her appetite increased. And he has been on meal duty ever since.
Thank god.
The other jobs on his list she gave to him.
Carrying logs for the chilly nights. Stocking up water from the well. Patching up rot that grew between the cabin boards.
Sharpening and cleaning her axes.
Which was his least favorite job.
She made him maintain her weapons as a reminder of his grim fate and brief life. This task he did not refuse.
In fact, he followed all of her tasks.
She never let him stray too far from her. Finding a proper escape route could take more time than she will give him.
As he peered towards the wall, looking at the weapons, he flinched and touched his neck.
If he did not earn her favor.
If he did not find a way out…
“I will make it quick.”
He shivered and grimaced.
A lonely, beautiful woman.
A terrifying, cold killer.
Which one was the real Red?
He lifted his head, blinking several times.
It was pitch black.
There was no light from the rising sun streaming into the cabin, and the fire had just gone out.
It was quiet and still…
Except for soft whimpering.
He sat up, pulling the blanket over his shoulders.
Where was it coming from?
“Pa… pati…”
He jerked his head over to the bed.
That small voice.
The voice of a little girl.
“Baaba… neene… Pati…”
He blinked, seeing the trembling form of Red curled up into a ball.
She never seemed so small before.
“I’m sorry… I’m so-sorry…”
He crept closer to the bed, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The chain clinked against the wooden boards. But she was still locked in her memories.
In her nightmare.
“No..no Pati… don’t… please! I’m so-sorry, I’m so so sorry…”
He bit his lip, peeking up at her. Her left shoulder, covered in old, vicious scars, twitched violently and there was sweat dripping down her face and chin. What brought a pang to his heart were the tears.
She was sobbing, her whimpering in pain and terror. Her body curled up further, as if trying to sink within herself, “Baaba… help me, please… it hurts, it hurts!”
He didn’t understand who she was calling for. Those were names from a language he didn’t understand.
However, he understood fear.
He understood pain.
The unbreakable, terrifying Red suffered a different Hell.
He pulled himself up to his knees, frowning as he took in her vulnerable form.
It was still Hell.
“I have been bitten many times before.”
She wasn’t lying.
Her body, bare from the blanket she shook off in her fitful sleep, was covered in round marks. Dark divots were buried in her skin. Her skin shone with cold sweat and she panted, sweat causing her hair to cling to her tear-stained face.
So small… so vulnerable.
So beautiful.
This woman who gave him a home…
She can’t keep suffering like this.
“Red… hey… Red. Wake up.” His fingers reached forward, “You’re okay. It’s just a nightmare, Red…”
He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, “You’re okay-”
Her eyes snapped open; red glares in the dark. She snarled, her teeth bared as her hand lashed out.
In a millisecond, a silver blade was pressed against his throat. His eyes stared at the knife’s edge, blood already coating it as it pressed against his skin. His breath was caught in his throat as he looked for the courage to gaze at her.
Hate.
Pure hate mixed with animalistic terror filled those scarlet eyes. The small little girl vanished into the Hunter.
Everything was frozen still, no sound except for his heavy breathing and the low rumbling of her growl.
“R-Red…”
She flinched, the hate in her eyes dissipating as he whispered her name. She blinked and pulled the knife back, her heart pounding as she returned to the present.
His hand moved back to the cut along his neck, trembling as he checked its depth.
Shallow.
He was still alive.
“What…” Red gulped, taking slow breaths before shuddering like a large cougar, “What are you doing?”
He blinked, looking back at her before lowering his head, “You were having a nightmare… I wanted to wake-wake you up.”
“… I see…” She set the knife back under her pillow, her brow knotted as she cursed herself, “I’m awake.”
Tristan chuckled ruefully, lowering his hand. “I can tell.”
His eyes shifted to the side as she stayed still, like a gargoyle staring into the far off night. Touching his neck again, he sighed in relief as the blood had stopped. “I’ll he-head back to sleep, Red. Pl- please be careful with that knife.” He gave a strained smile before turning his head.
“Wait.”
He stopped, looking back at her.
She was looking at him again, her lips pursed. She motioned to a spot next to her, her hand rubbing the back of her head, “Sl-sleep with me?”
It was a request said in a whisper that he barely heard.
“Are-are you sure?”
She nodded, curling her knees up under her chin, “C-Comfort me, dog.”
He chuckled again, nervous, his cheeks heated. Instead of killing him in cold blood, she was inviting him to her bed.
She was not his first woman. The bed was where he belonged, used as a living dildo while the town took out their frustrations on him.
So why did he feel so… warm?
He got on the bed, moving to the spot she motioned for him. He kept his face on hers, still terrified of her and yet entranced.
She was beautiful and haunted.
He never expected her to look so exposed.
He shifted his body under the covers, watching her as she stayed seated, knees pressed tightly against her, “Red?”
His hand reached for her again, fingers landing on her back, gently caressing her bronze skin, colored a deep blue in the night.
She shuddered again, before sighing softly. She turned towards him, falling next to him in a slump. Pausing for a few slow seconds, she shifted closer to him until her head was under his chin and her fiery breath was against his neck, “… Stay.”
Tristan wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close. For the first time in a long time, he smiled.
A genuine smile.
He never felt so safe before.
He never felt so protective before.
He really was her dog, and he didn’t hate it.
“I’m right here, Red. I’ll be right here.”
