Soulmate Stories

For a moment I just froze staring up into observant eyes, then with a physical hurl I threw my body off of his and toward the door. The door that promptly shut in my face with the car door lock clicking a second later. I search for a physical release almost madly with my eyes but find nothing. Then I try at the door handle pulling madly for it to open. All well feeling the observant eyes on me watching and judging. 

Then when my efforts prove fruitless I hear a tired sigh behind me. In the next instant my collar has grabbed as if I was misbehaving dog and I am boldly pulled into his lap my head pushed down on top of his thigh. His hand not holding a cigarette his smocking placed gently atop my head. 

When I try to get up the hand becomes a little heavier as the more I resist the more I am pushed down. With all my scrambling Lung just stares down almost in curiosity as he continues to press  my head into his lap. 

“Stop” the one word said in a force that makes my whole body freeze as if I was before a predator. The car starts up and I realize we’re moving to where I do not know. I start to shiver and try not to cry worried about ruining the man’s denim jeans. Lung above me takes another drag of his cigarette and once again places a gentle hand atop my head. He starts petting me again like I am some pet and the tears I am holding back start to trail gently down my face soaking into his pants he doesn't react. 

Another few drags of his cigarette. “Name” he asks in an even tone. I still shake and don’t answer wondering why he asks in the first place when he already has it. Though the tightening of his hands is warning enough that I am almost tripping over my own tongue blurting it out. 

“Taylor, Taylor Hebert.” My voice comes out in a loud high squick. I automatically blush at it but I pay it no mind for once having more important things to worry about then embarrassing myself. Lung doesn't give any reaction to my answer though just takes another drag of his cigarette and runs his fingers gently through my hair. 

“Age?” another question I don’t try to remain quiet this time blurting out.

“14” he doesn't react to this either and we just continue with questions as I slowly panic and he draws drags on his cigarette. 

“Family?”

“Father” 

“Name” I don’t want to say but I know they already know and another tightening of his hands through my hair and forces the answer out of me. Him winding my hair around his fist painfully and tugging until I give in. I am forced to arch my neck to relieve some of the pressure and when it starts to get too much I can’t help but blurt out.

“Danny” 

“Full” another tug and I answer. 

“Danny, Danny He-hebert” the words almost having to be forced past my lips. 

He grunts at this sound causing his legs to move just slightly forcing me to shift my head position to be more comfortable. For a second he places his hand fully atop it in warning but when he must realize that I am just shifting he allows me to do so. Then we are at it again. 

“Others?” It takes me a second to parse this question wondering if he means people in my life or just my family. I go with the most conservative answer. 

“No, just a grandmother on my mothers side I’ve never met” He hums at that almost in pleasure. 

“Friends?” 

That quiets me a little and it takes me a second to answer the words bitter on my tongue. 

“No” 

“Bullies?” I freeze at that and try to see his face but his hand once more presses down against my head stopping me from doing so. 

“Y-yes” the words said in resignation. 

“Names?” his voice not changing in the slightest. 

I think for a second about not answering no matter what the trio may have done to me they don’t deserve something terrible happening.  He doesn't tighten his hand just lets me think and I wonder if I should damn the consequences and refuse to tell him. To be a hero. 

Then like a viper he grabs my hand that's curled into my chest in a protective position stretching it out and exposing the white undersides. I look up the position I’m in, making it awkward and painful on my sore neck. I try to wrench my arm out of his hold but his fingers cover the whole thing almost like chains and my effort is fruitless. My other hand snaps out trying to claw his hand off me but my nails are over bitten snubs and my fingers are those of a small weak child doing nothing. 

He examines the skin for a second as if looking for something as I start to really cry. Moaning and begging out “no, no, no, please no” so incoherently the words become a garbled mess. Especially when the snot starts running down my face from my crying. 

Then his other hand holding his cigarette so gently as if it was a pen moves and my struggling only becomes more intense. Pain, blinding pain as the still hot nub is placed lightly into my skin on my forearm. White hot and intense flashing across my vision and making my entire brain shut off for a moment or two. All I could think was get it off, get it off, get it off. I scream. I think the sound itself escapes me from the high pitched sound of a wounded animal. It lasts for a second or two as I smell the scent of burning flesh and ash invading my noise. Then he moves the cigarette away and the pain turns from a blinding white into something constant but duller. 

I take big lungfuls of air just to try to catch my breath, my struggling having completely ceased from my earlier thrashing. I see him through blurry eyes examine his work for a second then seeming satisfied he releases my arm and puts out his cigarette. I don’t dare to look too afraid to see how he had married me. I didn't dare to move either. I had gotten to my knees in my throes of pain and just sat there almost like a bird perched in my seat watching the man like prey watches a predator. Just clutching my wounded arm to somehow protect it. 

He goes and reaches into his jean pocket pulling out a carton of cigarettes and I flinch at his movements he pulls out another thin white stick popping out without flourish and then lighting it. I watch the process in sick fascination as he places one of the white sticks ends onto what looks like thin slits that open through his mask at his mouth. It would have been silly if it wasn’t so terrifying. Then he brings his other hand up and I notice it is big thick callused fingers scarred throughout and blunted nails. Skin pigmented a whitish yellow. It is not a pretty hand. A small flame sprouts on his index finger, seeming to quiver every which way in front of my eyes. Then his cigarette is lit and he takes another drag. 

I watch his other hand as it pats his thigh in a quiet command and I scramble to obey laying back down onto his lap. My head resting gently on his legs. If I was in any other situation I might have blushed at that moment. I just scrambled as fast as I could, my tired stressed body reacting to my command faster than ever before. 

He lays his hand back onto my head no longer stroking my hair just keeping his hands presence as a constant reminder to behave. I know what he wants and know that he won’t ask twice. 

“Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements” he rumbles a bit as if to soothe me. A part of me just becomes more scared but another part is comforted by the sound. The part that looks for any positive social feedback, a part I hate. 

“Money?”

I wonder why he asks this then realizes it’s to figure out if I have any resources to get away from him. I feel like I should be more terrified by this but at this point I am just so tired that I can’t raise even more terror. 

“Allowance” Another drag. 

“Medications?” 

“None” 

He doesn't ask questions after that, I hear him turn his head rolling down his window and let the smoke out of the car. I realize then how cloying the smell is, seeming to have infused in every surface tainting the nice leather and wood of the interior with a sickly scent. I worry that the smell is going to sink into me ruining my skin and lips and nose. My hair and most importantly my hair. 

He continues to play with my hair gently twisting the ends here and there between his fingers as he thinks. I take him in then unlike when I was too terrified to even think I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He is wearing that metal dragon mask glowing amber eyes and harsh lines. It stands promptly against the rest of him standing in stark contrast to the denim faded and torn jeans he is wearing. Unlike his public appearance he is wearing a black t-shirt, nice quality wool and obviously expensive but little else. He looks more like one of Medhall’s executives on a weekend outing than the ferocious man who slaughtered the Empire 88 and took full control over Brockton Bay like his own personal fiefdom.  

He is a muscular man. I can see that toned definition in his arms and chest with little fat on his body. He is almost halfway between a swimmer's build and a bodybuilder. Not thin or lean enough for a swimmer but not bulky enough for a bodybuilder. He is tall. I can see that probably six feet. He has tattoos of dragons up and down his arms curling things in flight and battle. Only adding to his presence. 

Soon enough the car slows down. I have no idea how long we have been going but I know it couldn’t have been that long. We were already in the docks, the place lung likes to keep his establishment. I can’t see up and out the window until Lung lifts his hand off my head opening the door as he does so, a cigarette hanging from his steel mask. I get up quickly, my sour neck protesting at the sudden movement. I care very little for my hair which is now messy and out of order or my glasses which have become fogged up and barely function. Still, I wipe them on my shirt removing the moisture from them to see more clearly. I put them on and look outside, my breath catches in my throat. 

We are at a tall building large and ornate in the Japanese style. All ornate wood paneling and sloping tiled roofs. Once before the golden war on earth shin when the protectorate was an actual fighting force and the triumvirate still lived such an ornate display of wealth and illegality wouldn’t have been tolerated. Now though, when the government is little more than corrupt fools who follow the highest bidder and laws are mere words on the page such displays are commonplace. 

When I was younger I have vague memories of beaten husks of tankers and a decrepit filthy area of poverty and violence. Then the endbringers suddenly disappeared one day and the ship graveyard was cleared out to make room for a bustling trade hub. Now instead of poverty the docks, especially the heart of the ABB, have been turned into a flourishing Asian market district where the streets are clean and fusion architecture reigns supreme. 

I shake my head to clear it of thoughts and try to focus on my surroundings. I know we are in a nice area even if the building outside is a brothel. Realizing that I have kept Lung waiting I scramble to get out of the car. The door on my side is still locked as I try the handle and so though it makes a pit drop in my stomach I crawl out of his side. Lung is leaning against the side of the car still puffing away looking out at the surroundings. 

I know that the people are looking at us some in curiosity, many in fear. I feel their eyes on me as I step out of the car and it makes my shoulders hunch up. Many don’t even pay attention to me looking at Lung, not me I’m just his female accompaniment. Still, when some of their eyes trail over me I see some light up in curiosity others do a double take I assume because instead of the buxom beauty they are expecting they see a skinny kid with too long limbs and an acne ridden face. Then again it could just be that my face is covered in a mess of snot and tears and I am clutching my arm to me like I have lost it. 

Our driver, someone I paid no attention to at the moment, stays in the car but I catch the glimpse of a fatter asian man vietnamese maybe in the driver's seat. He doesn't get out of the vehicle. 

Lung glances over to me briefly as ever assessing with cold eyes then turns around and starts walking. His strides are long and sure. He is even more intimidating when standing than sitting. 

For a second I realize that there is no one to stop me and I could try to get away right then and there. I look around thinking of how I would run. Then I think of my arm and my father and know that if I do run they might kill him. That kills the temptation very quickly, very quickly. 

Lung stops a few feet ahead having not heard my footsteps behind him most likely. He turns to me then and there is no anger in his eyes, just that cold assessment that seems to always linger. I can’t see it but I know that behind his mask is a single raised eyebrow. 

I am afraid but I am also desperate. That gives me enough fearful desperation to ask. 

“What’s going to happen to me?” I don’t realize at that moment that I am challenging him in a broad public view or that I am undermining his position or even treating him like an equal. All I can think is that I need to know because I am terrified and I don’t know anything else. I almost reached my hands out to clutch at him to make him answer still no matter how stupid I was in that moment I am not that stupid. 

He stares at me as if contemplating if he should squish a bug or not. Then he brings his hands up to his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth and rolling it between his index finger and thumb. The motion and its implications make me flinch so openly someone two streets away would have seen. My face pales. I feel the blood draining from my cheeks and I huddle into myself curling my arms even tighter around myself. Until I am almost keeled over. 

He lets me stew for a moment or two then with a resigned sigh states “Come” in a commanding voice brokering no argument. He turns on his heel and throws the rest of the cigarette he was smoking onto the street curb. He marches off after that strides fast and long, I know not to protest further and I hurry to follow after him. I am tall for most girl but he is taller and so much faster making me almost jog to keep up with him

I don’t think about how he has shown his strength at my flinching or superiority. I don’t think about the fact that people will know me now from that display. The fact the dragon himself was my guide or that I was able to challenge him in public and remained unburned. I don’t think how this will be seen, how I will be seen from it. 

I will learn these things later when I have too much time on my hands and little to do with it. I will learn about his slaughter of the Yangban and how he is much clever than most give him credit for. That every instance of temperamental rage is far less temperamental then they would think it. That he chooses to be seen as a raging beast that his masks are varied and complicated. 

At that moment though all I could think about was my fear. When we entered the business it was much nicer than I thought it would be. There were no scantily clad women hanging in the halls shouting for customers or the smell of something foul in the air. It was an ornate hallway almost like a nice hotel but with a oriental theme. Tasteful furniture and the subtle scent of jasmine incense. It probably wouldn’t be an uncommon sight in any Asian tourist trap, a nice tourist trap at that. 

It was probably one of the nicest buildings I had ever been in. That I think is what threw me off the most. That or the fact that the service desk lady dressed in a tasteful but conservative suit was white. Pretty too of course with almost natural blond hair and baby blue eyes with a bone structure that looked like a doll she was very pretty. Little curves though but then again curves would have ruined her sleek aesthetic. I turned my eyes away, quickly embarrassed by my interest. Still, I knew that the ABB was a multi-ethnic gang having moved away from their more Asian roots as they grew but still it was hard to rationalize that with the idea of this place with a complex multi-ethnic group like them. 

Still I only got a moment to look around and appreciate the decor until Lung walked up to the service desk. The lady was nervous. I could see she was nervous but it seemed professionalism won out and with a polite “Hello, how can I help you sir” she projected an air of keen interest. 

Lung didn’t even look at her, instead looking through her as he grunted out “Nicest room currently available.” An accent entered his voice that wasn’t there before. I found it strange but didn’t think of it much. 

Without looking like she was rushing as fast as possible which I thought was impressive she checked her computer and a second later with that same impersonal but pretty smile answered “A deluxe on the second floor is currently available if that is acceptable, sir.” 

“No women” was Lung's simple command then he turned and stalked further into the building with his shadow trying to keep up behind him. For just a second I made eye contact with the pretty receptionist and I see a hint of confusion break through her professional mask but it is quickly covered up as she turns to her next client. Still I can feel their eyes the entire time making my skin claw further. 

Then we were in one of those nice steel elevators, professional and roomy, when the men beside us saw where they politely didn’t enter and so it was just me and him. He leans against the far wall and I just try to stay as close to the door as possible. 

I feel his eyes flicker to me for a second as I stand there hunched over and uncomfortable. 

Then we are off and walking in a rather nice plush carpeted hallway with dragon iconography around us in the wall poster and in the jade vases that line the hallway. There are three doors per section, nice wooden ones, the most western part of the entire hotel but still somehow fitting in with their dragon aesthetic. Despite the many dragons funny enough it is all still tasteful and appeals rather than repulsive to the eye. 

We stop at one of the doors and a scan of Lungs fingerprints against the door scanner and then we are in. 

It is a nice room with a little kitchenette, an expensive stainless steel sink and marble countertops. The rest of the room is in japanese style with sliding bamboo doors, dark wood floors, and white walls. The western bed takes center stage however it sits in the middle of the room on a raised platform of mahogany wood. It is all white with no headboard and two pillows big and fluffy perfectly arranged on both sides. Thin mattress and sheets with two very nice wooden desks on either side. Everything in the room is perfectly arranged and symmetrical. It makes me uncomfortable as if my presence is staining such an immaculate room and I tighten my arms around my midsection even more. 

“Clean yourself” Lungs stern voice snaps me out of my thoughts as he lazy waves to the adjacent bathroom. I just nod. The bathroom is as immaculate of the rest of the space and I try not to think about it as I turn on the tap and splash cold water onto my puffed up eyes and use one of their fluffy white towels to wipe down the crusty residual that had started to make its home on my face. 

When I looked up and saw myself a chill went down my back. I look scared, my hands shaking slightly. I looked like myself after a particularly nasty prank by the trio only tens times worse. I tried not to think about it as I made my way out of the bathroom. I refuse to look down at my arm and just drop it by my side trying to prevent it from brushing against anything. 

When I entered the main area once again I almost missed my step. Lung had taken off his mask and I could see his face. He was sitting at the glass table smoking another cigarette and looking out the window in contemplation. His mask laid out on the table in front of him. 

 The first thing that stood out for me was how plain he looked. For all his terror and fear mongering I suspected something either horrendously ugly or jaw droppingly handsome. 

Instead his face was simply unremarkable with a mix of what I could place as Chinese and Japanese features. He had hard features, large eyebrows and a sharp if bulky nose. Thin lips that looked disproportionate to the rest of his face and slighted almost catlike eyes. All in all outside of his impressive figure Lung wasn’t all that impressive. 

“Done staring.” His eyes flick to me for a second and I blush at being called out and noticed. 

Still he seems like someone who likes when people respond so I nod my head.

He looks at me a second longer, taking me in fully now and then waves the hand holding the cigarette toward the chair beside him. I hesitate for just a second then scurry over to the chair and try to sit down as quickly as I can. I don’t like being with a man but I also know not to disobey. My arm throbs at the thought. 

He looks at me then really looks at me I squirm a little at the focus he is giving me and then seeming satisfied does a little nod of his head as if confirming something to himself.  

“You wanted to know what will happen to you?” to his question I quickly nodded my head like an overeager puppy I thought to myself flagrantly. 

Still looking in my eyes, his impassive face not changing, he states “you will stay here for a few nights, I have things to arrange, then you will come live with me.” I frown at the last part not suspecting he would actually want me around but deciding not to ask.

“Can I leave? Or talk to someone? Can I call my dad?” the three questions tumbling out of me. 

Another drag of his cigarette then as if speaking so much pains him he answers. 

“No, I will have guards in both rooms surrounding this one. They will stop you if you try to leave. Your food will be delivered to you and I will send someone to ask for your needs. No phone will be provided to you and this room will be monitored for calls. A doctor will come by in a few days to check up on you. Books can be provided for entertainment, I know you like them.”

Then he took another drag and raised his eyebrow as if to ask if there was anything else. I just sat frozen there the entirety of my situation crashing into me all at once. My hands tight balls by my side. And without thinking I couldn’t help but blurt. 

“So, I am a prisoner then?” Despite having cried multiple times I could feel tears brimming my eyes ready to fall at a moment's notice. I already had a headache from all the crying and I knew it was only going to get worse later. 

Lung considers me for a moment and then responds “In a way” that only makes me suck in a panicked breath. 

“You are my pearl, I protect what is mine”

 It should be corny, the statement should make me burst out laughing at how terrible it sounds. It doesn't, it just makes me panic more.

In some part of me that is still there in the room, I see Lung put his cigarette down on the table setting, get up and move around toward me. The majority of me was just trying to prevent myself from having a panic attack. I dimly realized I was already in one but not enough of me could think rationally about that. 

I just couldn’t breath and all the air entering my Lungs felt more like water. I couldn’t breathe oh god I couldn’t breathe.

I felt arms around me hugging close to an inferno that felt strangely comforting and someone rubbing soft circles on my back. It took a few minutes to get my breathing under control and when it did I realized that it was Lung’s arms that were circling me. My cheek pressed into his chest, his head atop my own in a comforting embrace. He was kneeling on the floor as he slowly stroked my back.

When I calmed down enough I just asked “please would you explain what you meant?” Too tired to care anymore. 

He sighed the sound rumbling through him and made me shiver slightly. His deep voice started up and it was hard to focus on the words with it. 

“I have many enemies, many who would use you, hurt you, I cannot allow that.”

“So what, I am meant to stay in my room and never go outside again?” the tone of defeated bitterness entering my voice.

He pauses as if searching for the words “no, it is dangerous now, things are new, when things settle it will be safer.” 

“That doesn't answer my question.” I mumble.

A hum leaves his chest then he thinks for a second “You are mine now, mine when that dragon curled itself on your stomach, I will not lie to you I am a jealous man, when something is mine I do not share, I will not share you.” 

A laugh sharp and cutting leaves my chest but I don’t push the arms around me away. I felt like if I do I will lose the only tether I can clutch onto. 

“My father?” I can’t help but ask. 

Another hum, another thoughtful silence. “He will make himself a hindrance, I will not deal with him in my usual fashion out of consideration for you, but I cannot let you see him, he will be too desperate to get you back.” 

A defeated tear makes itself way down my face, another joining the many. He doesn't comment. 

For a few moments there is silence as I sit limply in his arms.

“I protect what's mine, you are mine, for all I might do to you I promise you that no other hand will hurt you, no other words will spite you, you will never have to worry about money or security, you will be comfortable.” 

I just let more defeated tears slip down my face and can’t help but stop myself. 

“Yes,” I responded, “but I will never be free.”

He doesn't deny the accusation. Out of everything, that feels most condemning of all. 

It is still early evening but I am tired and can feel myself flagging. Starting to drift off. 

I dimly feel arms around me gently cradling me to a chest and moving me to the bed. I feel someone laying me down on the soft mattress and pulling the covers over me and then tucking themselves in beside me. Cradling me to them in a warm if suffocating embrace. It is not long until I drift off to sleep in a peaceful embrace comforting me.

I dream of cages.