AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Happy wedding day,” I responded a minute too late, Dev’s footsteps already echoing on the hardwood of the stairs.
I rushed through a cold shower, trying to wash away the blush that still hadn’t left my cheeks, and had barely gotten on a pair of workout clothes before Dev pushed open my door.
The idea of separating us the morning of our wedding had never been brought up, Alex and Bex both too obsessed with their partners to consider the thought in the first place, and I’d been too selfish to mention the supposed bad luck.
It didn’t feel like bad luck, at least, when Dev’s fingers ran through my hair, fixing the strands that had escaped my ponytail, while I drank my morning cup of chai. As we sat across from one another on my bed, picking at the fruit he’d cut up, knowing we’d be eating brunch with the rest of the crew later in the day.
We werethe only car in the driveway when we pulled in, which meant Bex and Wren were still at their house. They’d promised to stop by later in the morning for mimosas and brunch, but they must’ve decided to sleep in.
We walked into the house, the front door already unlocked, to find Ames smiling up at her fiancé, arms wrapped around his waist as he attempted to make coffee behind her back. They were always the picture of bliss, the two of them equally obsessed with each other, and the sight had a slight pang echoing in my chest.
“Happy wedding day!” Ames called when she saw us, untangling herself from Alex’s embrace to give the two of us hugs. She pulled back with a frown as she eyed our outfits. “Are you seriously going to work out?”
“Can’t let myself go now that I found a wife, A,” Dev told her with a laugh, pulling me closer to his side as he patted what I knew were abs underneath his t-shirt. “We’ll fit in a quick workout before Wren and Bex even get out of bed.”
“Have fun,” Ames waved us off over her shoulder, going back to Alex’s side as we made our way down into the basement.
The home gym had become a place of comfort over these past two weeks. It was somewhere I could get out some of the excess anxiety that still occasionally bubbled underneath my skin. I could jump on the treadmill instead of running away, push my muscles until they were too tired to tense, spar with Dev to prove to myself that I’d gotten smarter, better at fighting off those that could come after me.
The wall of mirrors allowed me to see my progress, the slight definition in the muscles of my arms and legs after daily workouts over the past couple of weeks. The improvement in myform, the way the weights I lifted now were a few pounds heavier than those on that first day Dev brought me down here.
But mostly, I liked the gym because it gave me the opportunity to watch Dev. It had become an obsession, attempting to watch him when he wasn’t looking. It felt appropriate, considering he had months to observe me before I ever knew his name. Besides, eavesdropping was something I’d grown adept at in my childhood, observing others to get to know them the only way I could. No one knew who I truly was, so I wanted to know everything about others. And the best way to do that was by watching.
At home, I saw how he moved about the space, how he seemed less familiar with some aspects of the house. The way he was surprised when certain doors squeaked, as if he had spent little time there. How he consciously took louder steps now, after I’d startled the first few times he’d inadvertently snuck up behind me. But when we were at home, I just saw Dev at home. Comfortable, casual, his usually happy-go-lucky self.
But Dev in the gym felt like Dev’s truest form. He was still happy, still smiling, laughing occasionally as he made a joke or told stories about his work as they popped into his head. But he was also brutal at times, the way he lifted weights with a jerk, his muscles taught. The way he pummeled the punching bag with sharp jabs, jaw set with brutal determination and dark eyes, as if memories were running through his head as he worked the bag.
He touched me more in the gym, too, as if the location made him less gentle with his affection. At home, it was forehead kisses and a hand on the small of my back. In the gym, he’d press close as he showed me how to work a machine, or his hands would bracket my waist as he corrected my form. A few times, his fist wrapped in my ponytail to pull my head back, making sure my attention was on him as he gave me instructions.
He worked me hard, with cardio and weights to help with my strength and stamina, with stretches to improve my flexibility, and with sparring that mostly revolved around self-defense rather than damage.
Like he’d begun doing these past couple weeks, he gave me a choice, “Sparring first or weights?”
I usually chose weights first, working my muscles with the machines and dumbbells as a warm-up before cooling down with our sparring sessions. But Dev was antsy this morning, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, towering over me as he rose on the balls of his feet. He clearly needed some sort of release, something less controlled than lifting weights.
So I told him, “Spar,” ignoring the surprise that lighted his eyes at my response.
We stretched first, running through the mobility exercises Dev insisted upon before we moved to the mat. Dev rocked his head back and forth to stretch his neck, grinning as we faced each other.
“I’ll take it easy on you today,” he said with a smile. “Your only goal is to get out of the hold.”
Dev often made me fight him off, practicing my punches and jabs in the softest parts of his body. But those days usually resulted in sore knuckles and self-inflicted bruises as I defended myself. I never minded either, but I was sure Fiona would have something to say about her bride showing up with injuries the day of her wedding.
Getting out of Dev’s holds was just as fun, the self-defense practice a necessary one. My bodyguards and my father’s men had attempted to teach me self-defense in the past, but they usually went too easy on me, unwilling to hurt or scare me. It had always been clinical, the two of us discussing which hold we’d practice escaping from that day, giving me the chance to think it through before we got into position. But Dev believedin teaching me to think on my feet, going for various holds and expecting me to find my way out of them in the moment.
I tried to watch his movements as he stood in front of me, to get some sort of clue as to which position he’d go for today. Would he go for a forward-facing chokehold or try to wrap his arm around me from behind? Would he throw me over his shoulder, his arm banded across my thighs to keep me from kicking?
Dev went for the attack when I didn’t expect it, too distracted by picturing all the ways he could come at me.
He lashed out with his foot to catch me off balance before wrestling me to the ground, my arms pinned above my head, his torso hovering above me as he straddled my hips.
“You’re still thinking too much, Red,” Dev said with a shake of his head, reminding me, “You have to react in the moment. It’s not chess, it’s survival. You can’t rely on predicting what the other person’s moves will be.” His criticism ended with a smile, lessening the blow of his words. “Now escape.”
I took a moment to collect myself, trying to monitor Dev’s weaknesses so I could use them against him. He’d spoken to me about weaknesses before, about how he’d become an expert at sussing them out and using them to his advantage. I hadn’t found many weaknesses of Dev’s, save for his family, who I’d never use against him.
Then again…I allowed my eyes to fall to half-mast, glancing up at Dev between my lashes as I tilted my hips up to meet his. It didn’t take much pressure for Dev to groan, and the heat in his eyes made me shiver beneath him as he lowered his body close to mine.
“Red,” he warned as his grip loosened around my wrist to run down my side, goosebumps raising in their wake. “Stop getting distracted.”
