Heavy Petting

2. Vanya

2

VANYA

I ’ve been locked in my cage in the cellar for longer than usual, and I’m beginning to think they forgot about me.

I haven’t heard anybody moving about in the house above me since my mistress left for the market yesterday. There’s not even been a knock at the door from the milkman or the boy who delivers the telegrams. I’m petrified my owners went on vacation or something. Did they grow tired and cold of the isolation here in their remote country manor house and want to spend time at their summer villa?

They’re not pleasant people on the best of days, but leaving me locked away to starve is cruel even for them. I’d give anything to don my ball and chain and spend the day scrubbing the floors, so I could earn a crust of bread. My stomach grumbles in agreement, and I rattle the bars of my cage again, but it’s no use. They’re too sturdy. I hunch back into the corner and shiver.

I’m going to die here. If not of starvation, then of cold, perhaps. Wendell had me stripped before I was sent to bed without supper, and my only blanket is smelly and threadbare.

Or am I to succumb to some other ailment? The water in my bowl is stale and dangerously low. And my cage is so filthy, I could even die from some contagion before anyone finds me.

Sadly, I’m almost hoping for any of these deaths, over the return of my mistress. She threatened to transfer ownership of me to her son before she left — and not the son with the kind smile, who sneaks me extra food when he comes home from college once in a blue moon. She wants to give me to the one who takes pleasure in whipping me for no reason when she isn’t looking. Wendell . The one who looks at me with thoughts I don’t have to know, to understand they’re malicious. My mistress says I’m getting too old to work for her but that I’m old enough to start working for him now. I don’t know exactly what she means by that, but I know I won’t like it.

I’d prefer to belong to someone kinder than any of them. And secretly, at night, I dream of being rescued by a big, strong hero, who’ll then carry me away to live in a castle like a princess. Not just any hero. A monster .

It’s been a silly fantasy. Everybody has always said monsters aren’t real. They’re made-up creatures invented to scare people into doing the right thing, which is why I’ve always yearned for one to save me. But did I hear my mistress whisper something about monsters killing people in a nearby town before she and Wendell left for the market? Surely they were only playing an awful trick on me.

Their being mean is much more realistic than a monster coming to rescue me, but I won’t let their nastiness break my spirit. I may be held captive behind bars, but my imagination is free, so I’ll simply dream up a new future for myself and escape into that.

Today will be the day I get a new home . A good home. With a nice mistress or master. Human, monster — I don’t care, as long as they’re kind.

I sit with my chin held high all morning, but nobody comes. The day wears on, and I lean my head against the bars with a sigh. The light in the tiny basement window is fading to dusk, and I’m still trapped.

Unable to bear reality, I close my eyes to imagine a place far from this cage. A garden filled with flowers, where the sunlight warms my back, and someone offers a kind word or a gentle touch. What might that be like? Pure happiness? Would I sing? There was a time long ago when someone sang to me, and I remember how comforting it was. The last time I sang, I was young and new to this place, and my mistress caned me for being a noisy nuisance.

But she’s not here now…

With nobody around to hear me, I start to sing. I don’t really know any songs, so I make up the words and the tunes, not caring how it sounds, but finding some relief in the expression of my woes.

A sudden pounding at the door above snaps my spine straight. Ripped from the sanctuary of my daydream, I hush and strain my ears.

There’s a loud thud, and someone with a deep, powerful voice, calls into the house above me. The visitor is definitely male and full of authority, so it’s not Wendell or my mistress.

I’m about to call for their help, but the sound of his extremely heavy footsteps overhead gives me pause. Whoever it is, he’s big . The manor is practically shaking beneath his feet. Who could it be? Will he hurt me? I can’t protect myself from such a large man.

I squeak and huddle in the corner of my cage. I cover my head, squeeze my eyes shut, and hope for a miracle.

The cellar door slams open, and the footsteps stop outside my cage.

Every hair on my body rises at the sudden change of energy in the room. There’s an incredibly masculine presence in here with me, and I don’t have to open my eyes and look up to confirm that he’s large. I can feel his size.

He says something in a language I don’t understand, and I shrink lower at his commanding tone.

He gives a quiet rumble and eases his tone to a gentle whisper.

I still can’t understand him, but the atmosphere has changed. I shift my head just enough to tentatively sniff the air. My nipples harden, and my mind spins. His male musk is mingled with the scents of smoky fires and pine, and when he speaks again, the timbre of his voice holds a rich softness that strokes warmth along my spine from the inside.

Slowly, carefully, I lift my head, peek through my hands, and freeze.

A monster is staring back at me.

A real one.

They exist .

Do I scream? I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. The sight of him is too overwhelming. Am I seeing things?

I take a moment to rub my eyes and blink my vision clear, but there he stands.

His skin is the deep gray of slate, and he almost looks made of stone, but when he momentarily rubs one huge hand over his broad, muscular chest, his fingers leave the kind of marks a rug gets when it has been brushed the wrong way.

He’s soft ? I sit straighter and study him more carefully.

The claws on his big fingers are blunted, and the hair on his head is thick and black. Subtle waves flow between his twisted horns and over his shoulders in a dark river while some locks frame his face in a way that emphasizes the handsome squareness of his jaw, and the mysterious glint in his dark-brown eyes. He tilts his head as he looks me over, but otherwise stays so still, I can’t tell what his intentions may be.

He’s twice the size of a human man and has the commanding presence of an intimidating warrior, and yet, there is no malice rolling off him. He takes no steps to instill fear within my heart.

If he’s not here to scare me, has he come to rescue me? Like I imagined? I search his face again, and then properly take his measure.

His trousers are practical but streaked with stains, which are likely related to the massive sword at his belt. There are no boots on his huge feet, and I stare at his trimmed and tidy claws when he digs his them into the dirt floor. I am most definitely looking at a monster, and I dare not look away for two reasons. One — I can sense his power. And two — I am in awe of his beauty.

He steps forward and gently rattles the door of my cage. The lock remains firm. He pulls his dark brows downward and grunts softly, before meeting my gaze.

My heart pounds in my chest, as I use the bars to pull myself to my feet and face him fully.

His eyes widen, and he stamps his foot. He rattles the cage harder, rips the door right off its hinges, and tosses it aside.

The aggressive maneuver startles me, and I gasp and press my back to the wall. But instead of coming forward to grab me, he crouches down, opens his incredibly muscular arms wide, and gestures with a flick of his fingers that I should climb into them.