Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, but Kyra was my idea.

Beta'd by Tomas the Betrayer.

"So was Captain good, Kyra?"

"Yeah, come on, lady, you can tell us."

"We're your crew, right witch?"

"So spill already. How was it?"

Kyra hunches over a mug of coffee, shrinking into her chair at the table as Law's men press in on her from both sides. A few guys are even leaning over the table, all eagerly waiting for whatever she's going to say next. As if she knows what to say. Maybe, 'I sucked Trafalgar Law's blood last night and it was delicious.' Or perhaps, 'I had sex with your captain and I want to touch him again so bad I bailed from the room before he could wake up because I'm scared shitless.' Then again, 'If I let go of this mug, my hands are going to start shaking with how much I need him to get in here and be close to me.'

Yeah, that would go over real well.

She takes a tiny sip of the bitter brew, eyes fixed resolutely on the tabletop, and says nothing. Her mind is swimming in confusion and need. It feels like some magnetic force is tugging at her guts, urging her to leave the galley and get back to Law right now. Images from last night flash before her eyes: the way the falling lava had run off the magic shield outside when Law buried his teeth in her throat; the self-satisfied smirk on his face after he... sampled her; the expression of mind-blowing pleasure that had appeared the instant Kyra relented and wrapped her lips around the gash in his arm.

She can still taste his blood on her tongue, the flavor negating that of the coffee she's nursing. Can the Dark Doctor still taste her?

Go find out. Remind him of your flavoring.

Kyra scowls fiercely, barely noticing when the crew abruptly shuts up at the look on her face. That annoying voice is back yet again. She really wishes it would just go away for a very extended period. Possibly forever.

Never leave, it whispers in her ear. Always with you. Protect.

Yippee.

"Okay guys, back off," a voice demands from her left. Glancing over, Kyra sees that Sachi has just booted someone else from the chair next to her and plopped down, waving a dismissive hand at the rest of the men. She senses rather than sees the quiet Penguin take the chair to her right as Sachi adds, "You don't ask a lady a shitload of questions before she's had her coffee unless you've got a death wish. Give our girl some space."

'Our' girl?

Merrick doesn't own you; I do.

Kyra pushes the echo out of her head and instead ponders why the hell Sachi is trying to help her. What does he care if his crewmates want to bombard her with embarrassing questions? He owes her nothing. She has not been a friend to him. She was fully prepared to kill him along with everyone else if it meant the chance to get back to her mother. What can he possibly hope to gain by convincing his buddies to leave her alone?

Maybe he's just trying to make sure Kyra doesn't kill a few out of irritation. That would make sense.

Bepo ambles into the room before she can dwell on the question any further, little Aaron right behind him. The bear's black nose is twitching repeatedly as he follows some scent or other right over to where the tired and slightly achy sorceress is being interrogated. She eyes him warily as that snout brushes against her forehead for a moment before the first mate straightens up, blinking down at her.

"You smell like Captain. Does this mean you finally let him mate you?"

Kyra flushes red to the roots of her hair as the men all start howling with laughter. Aaron comes up to her and tugs lightly on her arm, whispering a question in her ear when she bends her head to him. She jerks back and gives him a stern look.

"Don't. Ask," she commands strictly, turning a spine-chilling glare on the crew that immediately halts all hysterics. "If you say a word in explanation to the kid, you will never be able to have children. So keep your mouths shut."

Everyone cringes at her threat, instantly clamming up and sheepishly returning to their breakfasts. Bepo wanders over to the stove and fills a plate for the boy while taking a platter of sausage for himself before beckoning for Aaron to follow along. The kid dejectedly detaches himself from Kyra's arm and slouches out of the galley with a pout to melt hearts. She watches him go, wondering for the millionth time what in the world has made the boy so fond of her. His behavior is not logical. He should fear her, having been born and raised on Veneficus and no doubt fed lies about the Demon Witch courtesy of all the adults. Yes, Kyra saved him, but she did not expect for a little boy to be able to so easily accept her - to prefer her company - when he has probably spent his whole life being taught to fear the Demon Witch.

Kids are confusing.

"So... how tired are you this morning, girlie?" a guy down the table wearing a bright, knitted cap of lime-green yarn asks. He grins when Kyra glances at him, waggling shaggy blonde eyebrows. "Captain give you a workout? I'm sure he won't mind if you decide you wanna spend the day in bed."

And men are perverted bastards, the mage concludes with another fierce blush as the crew starts laughing again. She wonders how much trouble she will be in if she maims a few of them. Law will probably be pissed off, but maybe they'll shut the hell up if they go back to being scared shitless of her.

A full plate of food is banged down on the table in front of her, something hairy and floppy tossed down next to it. Kyra raises her eyes to meet the cook's gaze, not particularly intimidated by the hateful look he's giving her. She can feel Penguin go tense in the next seat, can sense the way Sachi is gearing up to get rid of the beanie-wearing man. She doesn't need their help. Surely these two remember what his face looked like the last time he really pissed her off.

"Make yourself useful, ya little slut," Neil sneers from across the table as he sits and stabs angrily at what Kyra thinks might be pathetically overcooked scrambled eggs. "Go give Captain his breakfast." He jabs an egg-laden fork at the hairy black thing next to the plate for Law. "You can wear that so's Captain don't have to wake up to your ugly face."

No one says anything for a moment, pausing in their consumption of a shitty breakfast to see what the witch's reaction will be. Ignoring their scrutiny, Kyra reaches out to pick up the unidentifiable accessory she's supposed to wear. It seems to be made of rubber, and she turns it over in her hands to get a better look.

A slack, eyeless face stares back at her.

Hello, lovey.

Danger. Too close under her shield turn and fight kill him -

Something in his hand. Bile in her throat. MamaMamaMama -

Her face. Empty eyes.

Do you have a kiss for Mummy?

Blood on the reverse side. Mama's skin on her skin. A deathmask, suffocating her. No air. No breath.

Can't breathe.

Help-me-Mama-somebody-help-me-help-me-oh-gods -

"Fucking bitch!"

Kyra jerks back to her senses at this shout, staring down at the remnants of the costume mask in her hands. It has been completely shredded, the pieces sifting through her fingers to decorate her lap like confetti. The cook is on his feet again, bellowing filth at her - "I got that in North Blue, dammit, what the fuck is your problem you goddamn freak!" - apparently furious that she has mangled his little toy beyond saving. Sachi has a hand on her right arm while Penguin is pressing up against her left. Their faces show nothing but concern for her. The rest of the crew is staring in her direction with expressions ranging from shock to worry to terror. Kyra lowers her gaze back to the destroyed mask, fighting down the remainder of her panic and deliberating on where she wants to go hide for a while. If they weren't docked at a fucking volcano she'd just go exploring or something. Stupid island.

She doesn't see him come in, but she knows he's there when strong fingers weave through her hair to begin a teasing caress. Her entire body snaps to attention, and it is a fight not to alter the rhythm of her breathing. She can smell him behind her, smell the man-antiseptic-ocean scent that follows her captain around and lingers on her skin from so many nights forced to share a sleeping space with him.

"Is there a problem?" Law asks politely, and Kyra doesn't know if he's asking her or his men but right now there's no way in hell she can answer him so the guys will have to deal with it. She tunes out whatever Sachi starts babbling and concentrates on hiding the way her hands have started shaking again. She's afraid of what ideas Law will get if he notices. Trying to get up is a bust; Law's fingers just tighten enough to let her know she's not going anywhere.

The Demon Witch twitches when cool lips brush against her ear, trying valiantly to ignore that damn voice and its whispers of he's right there, turn and meet his mouth with yours, claim him for all to see, he is yours -

"Have you eaten your fill?" the Dark Doctor murmurs huskily, blunt nails scratching at her skull. Kyra would rather starve than eat the slop Neil considers suitable for breakfast - for someone who can cook gourmet food for afternoon and evening meals, the guy is seriously challenged when it comes to toast - so she gives a single nod. The fingers retreat from her hair and Kyra is out of that chair and on the way to the hatch in a flash, leaving a trail of rubber flecks behind her. Once outside she scrubs trembling hands furiously at her prickling eyes. Thank the gods her cheeks are dry - she'd hate for those men to see her so damn vulnerable.

She doesn't move or speak when a male body crowds her against a section of railing, doesn't react when her hair is pushed over one shoulder and a warm mouth begins nibbling at the exposed chunk of her neck. A hand finds its way under the hem of her tank top to stroke at her quivering belly.

"My bedroom is in the opposite direction, my magician."

"Not tired," the sorceress mutters, palms pressing hard into her eyes so she isn't tempted to do something else with them. A chuckle reverberates through her back, pressed as it is against Law's strong chest.

"Merrick peeled my mother's face off."

The chuckling stops abruptly.

"Actually he peeled all of her head off," Kyra continues. "Hair, scalp, whatever, the whole damn head. Like he cut it off and then got rid of the bones and brains and shit. When I went back, they told me she was at the shaman's home, and Merrick showed up carrying her fucking face like a mask in his hand. Like your cook's little mask in there. I really hate that goddamn cook."

The lips against her neck are still, as is the hand across her stomach. Kyra rambles on, her own hands removing themselves from her face to wrap tightly around the railing.

"Sometimes, when he was toying with me, or if I hadn't passed out when he stopped for the day, Merrick would tell me what he did to my mother while he was trying to force her to give up where I might be. As if she would have known. He told me he didn't kill her until he got word that I met up with Jericho in that damn bar. He liked to tell me how much he enjoyed her screams."

They stand there silent for a long time, watching the lava from the volcanic island splatter harmlessly against the shield Kyra threw up last night. She doesn't know why the hell she just said all that. She's well aware that Law doesn't give two shits about her mother and could probably care less about how or when or why Naomi died. Hell, Kyra's more than cognizant of the fact that the Surgeon of Death doesn't care about her. He might be drawn to her, obsessed with her, possessive of her, but that's as far as it goes. The thought of Trafalgar Law declaring his undying love to Kyra is both totally absurd and absolutely terrifying.

Not that it matters, anyway. It's not like Kyra's stupid enough to feel anything for Law.

"How long are we going to be stuck here?" she finally asks, shifting slightly and wishing she could put some space between them. This closeness is doing weird things to her insides, and she can feel the tremors trying to start up again as the magic nudges her to turn around and do something stupid. Law doesn't seem to notice her discomfort - or maybe he just doesn't care. He actually manages to press closer, nipping lightly at her neck and following when Kyra tries to moves away. She nearly jumps in surprise when the Supernova groans, lapping at a sore spot on the side of her throat and tightening his hold on her abdomen as though to keep her still.

"Why," he growls, his fingertips digging into her gut and his breath hot against the sudden wetness on the top of her shoulder, "does your blood taste so damn good?"

Oh, hell, that's the spot where he bit her last night. Kyra finds herself turning without thought, bringing her hands up to Law's chest and shoving at him. She freezes with fingers clenched in his hoodie, gritting her teeth against the urge to yank him back to her. This is fucking ridiculous. The damn shaman seriously failed to explain just how strong the soul-bond is during those long-ago lessons. From what she remembers, after the initial... coupling, the pair should be perfectly normal as far as their sexual appetites. Kyra should not be feeling this aching need to touch Law's bare skin.

She doesn't know about the pirate captain: he might just be some kind of sex fiend or something. Kyra wouldn't be surprised.

Law's laughter vibrates down the sorceress' arms as he leans in, putting his arms around her so that his hands rest at the base of her spine. His lips are red and it only takes her a second to realize that the coloring is from her blood.

"Stubborn, stubborn little girl," he coos, forcing her back until she once again bumps into the railing. "I don't recall you being so unwilling last night. Unless my memory is playing tricks on me, I could swear that you begged for me to touch you. Why not now? You're trembling just the way you did before, my magician. What new game are you trying to play?"

"Don't," she barks out, bending over the railing backwards to dodge that damn mouth. "You got what you wanted last night, so get the hell off me you jackass. Leave me alone."

Law smiles, and it is so akin to an animal baring its teeth that Kyra can't control her flinch away.

"I believe -" - crap, he's speaking in that almost-whisper tone that means he is not happy - "- that we had a discussion yesterday evening about the consequences of trying to give me orders, Kyra. You seemed to understand just fine at the time."

I'm-sorry-please-don't-stop-I-need-you -

Dammit.

"As I've already explained, you are mine. I will touch you whenever I feel like it."

A firm hand slides up her thoracic vertebrae and exerts pressure to straighten her spine. She can't even push back against it; her damn body isn't listening to her anymore. As soon as her mouth is in his line of fire Law swoops in and kisses her with bruising force, sinking his teeth into her bottom lip and holding on when she tries to pull free. His eyes are glittering, taunting her, reveling in her weakness and her inability to resist him. Her helplessness makes Kyra feel sick the way little else can.

He releases her mouth and starts to back towards the hatch, arms still like iron bands around her. Kyra slips her foot around one ankle and jerks, tripping Law and sending them both to the deck. Immediately he flips them and pins her beneath him, grabbing her wrists and slamming them down to the floor. She snarls up at him, wriggling and twisting in an attempt to unseat him. The Dark Doctor doesn't seem at all perturbed; he hasn't even lost his smirk, the smug bastard.

"Why must you continue to fight the inevitable?" he muses in a tone that makes her want to beat the shit out of him. "Don't try to tell me you didn't enjoy yourself last night. What is so horrible about accepting the fact that you like it when I put my hands on you, you crave my lips on yours, and my blood is just as addictive to you as yours is to me?"

"I can't help it!" Kyra spits at him, hating herself for how much she enjoys having his fingers wrapped around her wrists, for how right it feels to be so damn close to him. "It's not by choice, what's happening between us! It's just the damn soul-bond, and I don't know how to get rid of it. I hate feeling compelled to touch you. I hate the way I want to bite you on the off chance I'll get a sample of your blood. I hate the way this fucking bond make me feel and act! I'm tired of having confirmation that I'm a freak!"

He has the gall to laugh at her like she's just said something funny. She longs to punch him, to make him hurt the way she hurts. She wants to take that self assurance, that confidence, and shatter it into a billion tiny pieces. The son of a bitch probably hasn't ever had a moment of self-doubt in his entire life. What the hell does Law know about how she feels?

"Your problem, my dear magician, is that you spend far too much time fighting your own nature. You fear what you are capable of, possibly because you spent your childhood being reviled for your amazing abilities. But just because you do your damnedest to deny it, this does not change the reality that you are what most people would consider a monster. Even if you had been given the chance to be some kind of child prodigy, joined the Navy and spent your life saving people from scoundrels like me, there would still have been countless voices whispering behind your back. You would still have been feared, still have been hated, and without pirates like myself and my men who accept the weird and dangerously unexplainable, you would have been completely alone."

Kyra hates his fucking voice. She wants him to shut up. Her eyes clench shut and she turns her head away from him, trying to block him out.

"You are a monster. You are a freak. You will never be normal. You will never be accepted by civilized society. No sane man is ever going to allow you to come within fifty feet of them, let alone waste the time getting to know you. What has yet to penetrate that thick skull of yours is that I have never once claimed to be completely sane. I don't give a damn about civilized society or what they consider proper. I have never been afraid of you, not even when you still retained the ability to kill me with a wave of your little finger. My crew was never afraid of you until you threatened to slaughter them all if I refused to allow you to go back to your precious mother. You mentioned that your magic is what chooses who you become soul-bonded with, correct? Perhaps you should pay attention to its decision. It didn't bind you to some boring civilian. It bound you to me. What does that tell you about your true nature, Kyra? When the magic that everyone hates you for tied you to a pirate who doesn't care how far from the norm you are?"

She doesn't want to hear this, damn him. She doesn't want to acknowledge the ring of truth behind everything he's just said. She can't stand the thought that she might actually fit with this man.

Warm lips sweep across her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Hands trail up across her chin, turning her head so those lips can dominate her own yet again. Pressure to her jaw forces her teeth to part, leaving Kyra to lie helpless as Law takes what he wants. She is breathless when he pulls away, tugging her up with him and holding on until she opens her eyes in defeat.

"What did you do with my hat last night?"

The furry thing is wrapped in her magic and zipping towards them from the far side of the deck before Kyra has fully processed the question. Law catches it with a grin and jams it onto his head before sticking a hand in a pocket of his hoodie and pulling out something very similar. The Demon Witch doesn't realize what it is until her captain places it on her own head, uncharacteristically gentle as he pulls his old cap in place. The fur is soft, just as Kyra remembers, and she wonders where he found it after she left. Law's hands curve to fit her face, lifting it so that she is forced to meet his gaze.

"You're mine, Kyra. Your mother is dead, your cousin betrayed you. You have no reason to leave my crew again. I have no intention of releasing you from my service. Besides -" - he smirks down at her and moves one hand to tap against her nearly-hollow chest - "- this time I do have leverage, and I don't anticipate giving it up any time soon. I believe you would be much less miserable if you came to terms with your situation, my magician. It isn't going to change just because you continue to deny it."

Trafalgar Law removes his hands from Kyra completely and walks around her, heading for the hatch that will lead him back into his submarine.

"We'll be docked here for the next three days. Keep the shield up unless I tell you otherwise. I will be in the infirmary until lunch if you need me; don't skip the meal, you're still too thin."

The heavy metal door bangs shut behind him as the first of many tears slip their way down Kyra's cheeks.

Fuck.

Law watches Kyra closely during dinner. She picks at her food, only actually eating when prompted to do so by Penguin or Sachi on either side of her. She says nothing, keeping those blue eyes fixed on her plate as though afraid to look up. Law can't seem to get rid of the tiny smirk adorning his lips, knowing full well that his magician can feel his scrutiny and it's making her extremely uncomfortable. Kyra has been trying very hard to avoid the Dark Doctor since their little tussle this morning. She did not disobey his order to attend the noon meal, but still shoveled her food in so fast she was in danger of choking herself. Kyra was up and gone again before anyone else was halfway through with their first course.

Her avoidance tactics and the fact that she feels uneasy around him after having his tongue all over her last night is rather adorable.

"Kyra," he calls now, smirk deepening when the girl twitches. She reluctantly raises her head to look at him, an almost fearful expression on her face. He wonders for a moment what exactly she thinks he might say, to look so afraid.

"The men would like to go onto the island for the evening," Law informs her smoothly, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with half-lidded eyes. "What can you do about getting them there without lowering your shield? Bepo is staying to watch the boy, and I'd rather not give him a chance to resume his fussing about the heat."

"They can do whatever they want. I'm just keeping out the worst parts of the lava." Kyra goes back to poking at the produce on her plate, apparently having lost interest in the conversation already. Law says nothing further, sitting silently at his table and nursing his drink until his magician pushes her dinner away and stands to leave. When she moves to go around his chair, he hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her into his lap. She fights him - of course she does, she wouldn't be Kyra without a fight - but after months of torture even a strong person would have difficulty struggling with Trafalgar Law. He maneuvers them until her side presses against his chest, his arms around her torso constricting any thought of escape. The pirates are snickering into their dinners, and Kyra gives her amused captain a look that would have lesser men quivering in dread.

He just smirks and holds on tighter.

"Why the hurry to leave? Sit with us for a while." Law grins, leaning toward her ear so he can breathe the next words for her alone. "Unless you're headed for bed. If that were the case, I would be more than happy to join you."

"The majority of your crew is scared shitless of me. Why force them to put up with my presence longer than necessary?"

This gives him pause for a moment, more from the carefully bland tone than the words. Why is his magician purposely hiding everything in her voice? If Law didn't know any better, he would say that the crew's unease around her might actually bother Kyra. Perhaps she cares a tiny bit more about his men than the Surgeon of Death has previously thought.

Or she's just toying with him.

It isn't until he rubs his chin against her shoulder that Law notices the tiny tremors. Intrigued, he moves his head back and sits quietly with his arms around her. Yes, he can feel it now: vibrations, barely noticeable unless he looks for them. He can feel them against his chest, arms and thighs. Kyra is trembling.

"Goodnight, men."

The crew knows him well enough to understand that they have been politely prompted to get lost immediately. In a remarkably short amount of time Law is alone in the galley but for his magician. The mess will be taken care of in the morning. The ship will be deserted tonight except for Bepo and the kid, and the first mate of the Heart Pirates wouldn't even consider bothering his captain when Law's bedroom door is shut and locked.

"Better?" he inquires teasingly, fingers searching for the bottom of Kyra's tank top so he can touch her bare skin. "Don't hold the men's behavior against them. They'll get used to you again in time. You'll simply have to be patient."

She does not reply. Her head is facing away from him, staring at the wall behind the table with unnatural intensity. The quivering is slowly growing more noticeable, and Law looks down to watch as dainty little hands fist so tightly the knuckles stand out white against the skin. One eyebrow rises and teasing lips graze over a twitching shoulder. Kyra is acting like a druggie whose poison has been removed from her reach. The difference is in the fact that the pigheaded girl is sitting in her poison's lap.

"I really dislike it when my crew does things to hurt themselves, Kyra," the surgeon murmurs against her neck, wishing she faced the other way so that the bite mark on her neck was under his mouth. It had pleased him immensely this morning to find that Kyra's magic has not healed it; it can serve as a sign to the world that Law has definitely laid claim to the Demon Witch. His crew knows better than to say anything about it, and anyone else foolish enough to comment is easily disposed of.

"I'm not doing anything."

He grins into her skin, tongue darting out for a taste. "You're shaking. Why is that?"

Kyra's body goes completely tense. Law can feel the strain her muscles are under from this attempt to hold absolutely still. She mutters something about the soul-bond and moves as though to stand, trying to get away from him like she always does. Apparently her attitude has not changed at all from last night - unless you count a new sense of deep shame that's been following her around like a black cloud all day. If Law's ego was less resilient, he might be insulted. He doesn't loosen his hold to allow her to run off. Instead he gets to his feet, adjusting the positioning of his arms so that she is cradled against his chest like a teddy bear. Dangling off the floor, Kyra is obviously not pleased, if the hands pressing against his shoulders are any indication.

"What the fuck, Law? I can walk, you idiot, so can you put me down? What are you doing?"

The pirate hums noncommittally in answer, striding towards his room and tuning out her continued protests. He drops her on his rumpled bed-sheets and closes the door before moving to perch on the edge of his desk. Kyra sits up and scrambles to stand, flinching away from the bed as though it burns her. Law watches her eye the door for a moment before settling against a section of the wall and hesitantly meeting his gaze.

"Tell me more about this soul-bond you're always complaining about," the Dark Doctor prompts coolly. Her face visibly blanches with shock for a moment before she peers at him suspiciously. Law doesn't react, just folds his arms over his chest and waits for her to begin speaking.

"Um, okay..."

"As well as anything in your past concerning the soul-bond."

She frowns but takes only a moment to consider his request before continuing. "The island I'm from is called Veneficus. Pretty sure it's somewhere here in the New World, but I don't know anything about reading maps so I couldn't point it out to you unless it was labeled. It's perfectly circular, and Veneficus is the name of the city as well as the island it sits on. It's divided into seventy-seven rings, segregated by class, with the dregs of society living on the outskirts of the island. That's where I grew up. I was a citizen of the seventy-seventh ring. The elitists called us sordes, which means filth in the ancient tongue."

Law listens closely, filing away all the information she is giving him by both her words and the minute changes in her expression.

"Veneficus is... I don't know, there's something under the surface of the island that gives its really lucky citizens magical abilities. It's ruled by the shaman, which is a title passed down from father to son to mother to daughter. It's like a royal family, supposedly from the first people to make a home on the island. Actually they're kind of like the Tenryubito: you piss them off and you die. They rule with an iron fist. They have a personal army of trained mages called the Proeliators, led by the strongest person outside of the shaman's family on the island. That person, man or woman, is given the title of Imperator. The Proeliators answer to him, and he answers directly to the shaman."

She pauses, giving him a searching look as though to see if he is following her so far. He nods once, indicating that she should continue.

"You know how my magic is black unless I'm healing someone? That's not the norm on Veneficus. Neither is the pure white. Everybody else's magic manifests in this kind of eggshell color. Plus, magic is always inherited. It's more a family trait, like hair or eye color. If your mother or father have it, you might. If neither of them do, if no one in the entire history of your family has it and you somehow get the gift, people treat you like a freak and call you a monster."

Kyra is pacing restlessly now as she goes into greater detail. "The islanders with magic can't transport the way I do. They can't kill people with a gesture. They can't bring people back from the dead. Only a small group of them have the ability to heal major wounds. They all have to be trained by the shaman for years to manifest their magic on command. I don't know if they can even use their powers if they were to leave the island, because the Veneficus itself is what gives them power in the first place."

"But not you," Law interrupts smoothly.

She gives an unladylike snort in response. "Me? I was making stuff fly through the air as a toddler. You've seen me kill. You were there when I resurrected Firefist Ace. The first time I brought somebody back to life, I was three. I was playing around the trash heaps in my district with some other sordes kids and one of them got buried under a mountain of garbage. She was dead by the time some adults managed to dig her out. I remember bawling in my mother's arms, wanting to know why she wasn't moving. I was told a few years later that a white dome appeared around us, I started talking to the girl like she was right there next to me, and then she took a gulp of air and sat up like nothing was wrong with her.

"The shaman took me on as his apprentice two years after that. We covered soul-bonds when I was ten."

Kyra stops again, rubbing her hands nervously against her thighs. Law can see that she is sweating, though the temperature in the sub has been pleasantly cool since she put a shield around them the previous evening. It's fairly obvious that she is not comfortable talking about this subject, but he is the Surgeon of Death - he enjoys torture, physical or mental. He rises from his seat on the desk's edge, crosses the room to stand in front of her and puts his hands flat on the wall to either side of her head. His magician flinches into the metal as though trying to put nonexistent space between them when Law moves in to nuzzle the bite mark on her neck.

"Go on," he orders softly right before he takes a small portion of her flesh between his teeth and clamps down gently. Kyra's breath hitches, her voice shaking as she plows on desperately.

"U-um, soul-bonds are like... m-marriage on a deeper level. Your, um, magic picks out the one person in your life who's most c-compatible with you and kind of... sews your souls together. Sometimes the shaman uses his own power and his total authority to force a soul-bond, like he wanted to do with me and M-Merrick - s-shit!"

Law has pressed his body flush against hers upon hearing that man's name on his magician's lips. He lifts his face from her neck and looks down at her quivering form with lazy eyes and a satisfied smirk, enjoying the feel of her heat against him. Her eyes are clenched so tightly closed that she's probably giving herself a headache. Her fingers are digging into the skin of his hips through the fabric of his jeans, but Law has doubts that Kyra even realizes she is touching him. She starts babbling again as he studies her, almost like she hopes the words will anchor her.

"Once a pair is bonded, they're supposed to be able to control each other's magic if they both have some. If not the non-magic person is safe from his partner's abilities, which is why I can't throw you through a fucking wall. Their dreams are tied like ours are. Okay there I explained, so get the hell off of me you freaking maniac."

She looks about ready to crawl out of her own skin. Law is extremely amused.

"Ah, ah, not so fast," he scolds her gently, liking the way her cheek jumps under the flow of his hot breath. "You haven't giving me a reason as to why you are shaking. You said it was because of the soul-bond. Elaborate."

"I'm trying not to touch you, okay?" Kyra abruptly blurts out, grip on his hips tightening significantly. "I don't want to touch you! The soul-bond is like - just - tugging me to put my hands all over you and it's pretty difficult not to when you're being such a fucking cuddle whore! So if you'd be so kind as to back the fuck off -"

Law silences her with a kiss that bangs her head against the wall with its force. He makes quick work of shedding his hoodie, prying her hands from his hips and planting them on his chest before pulling away from her mouth to let her breathe. Kyra jerks frantically at her arms, obviously desperate to pull away from where they rest over the Dark Doctor's sadistic little heart. Law holds them in place with an iron grip, delighted at the panic plain on his magician's face.

"Why would you resist an urge like that?" he purrs, cataloguing the way that particular tone sends additional shivers through the trapped girl. "I don't believe I've done anything to give you the idea that I dislike your touch. If I have, I would be more than happy to rectify the situation."

Still gripping her wrists, Law starts backing slowly towards the bed, watching Kyra's expression get caught somewhere between relief and abject horror as he pulls her along with him. She seems a little stunned, which explains why she hardly puts up a fight when the captain of the Heart Pirates flops upon the comfortable mattress and drags her up against his chest. "Touch away, my dear magician."

She freezes, staring at him with wide blue eyes. Law lets go of her and folds his hands behind his head, a lazy smile on his lips as he meets her startled gaze.

"I'm going after One Piece, Kyra," he reminds her in a quiet, intense voice he usually reserves for situations in which he is extremely angry. "And you are coming with me. Raftel is the last island in the New World, located somewhere past all the others. If your Veneficus is indeed in this half of the Grand Line, there is a very good chance that we will pass it. I find myself curious to meet with this shaman. Perhaps we will see if he enjoys being part of my experiments, as he so obviously likes to conduct them. If by the time we get to Raftel we have still not passed your old home, then won't they be honored to receive a visit from the Pirate King himself? We'll have to stop by and say hello."

One hand comes up to stroke along Kyra's cheek, curving around to grab a hank of hair and pull her further up his body. She doesn't resist at all, still staring at Law as though the pirate has grown an extra head. He kisses her roughly, tongue plunging into her mouth and exploring at will while hesitant hands grab his sides in an unsure grip. He grins against her lips and pulls back, admiring the flush on Kyra's face.

"The kid's an orphan," he informs her flippantly, fingers digging through her curls to stroke her scalp just for the split second of pure bliss that always flashes across her expression. "Bepo says your little Aaron confessed that his mother and father died of some disease or other at some point before you went home. I don't care if he's on my ship or not as long as he doesn't cause a problem. There is no reason to rush back to Veneficus. The brat is as safe here as he would be there, and I'm sure this shaman you speak of will still be there when we come to call. You've lost your excuse not to stay with me. As a wanted pirate, I have no doubt that we will meet up with Mr. Merrick at some point in the future, and you will have the chance to avenge your darling mother. So why don't you just set aside this idiotic stubborn streak of yours and enjoy the fringe benefits of the soul bond you loathe so much?"

Law kisses her again before his magician can attempt to argue, his hand trailing down from her scalp to the base of her spine and slipping nimble fingers under the hem of her top. Kyra twitches, tenses... and then goes limp against him, all struggle draining out of her body like shadows fleeing the sunlight. He lets her scoot down enough to bury her face in his chest, exulting at his little victory as he manuevers the shirt over her head so that her skin can press against his. The surgeon places his palm on the back of Kyra's head, stroking gently through her hair. He has given her much to think about today, dumping it all on her right after their activities last night. He will give her time to process it all. Law can be patient when the situation calls for it, and this is one of those times. Once Kyra has everything squared away in her head he has every confidence that she will approach him as she did last night - perhaps not as frantic, but still asking for the same thing. Until then Law will content himself with teasing and touching her whenever the mood strikes him, whether awake or in the world of their dreams.

That should keep him well entertained for quite a while.

Merrick hefts the old man's head in one hand, listening to his gibbering daughter scream from a few feet away. The shaman's eyes have rolled back, exposing the whites to the scientist's gaze. His body lies at Merrick's feet, blood soaking the stone floor of a beautiful solar in the obsidan mansion. Spread out around them are the corpses of the little army the old man controlled, mutilated beyond recognition following a brief attempt to kill the scientist at their master's command.

Kyra has been gone for a month, and all the shaman's attempts to force her return through magic have failed miserably.

A month.

Merrick's patience has long since evaporated.

Lovey...

He tosses the shaman's head aside and steps towards Lihla, who is screaming and crying, pressed against the wall and unable to move.

Where are you, lovey-dearest?

He reaches out and gently strokes a line down the blonde woman's cheek, shushing her as one would a frightened child.

"Hush now, Lihla-pretty," Merrick croons, cupping her cheek in a hand coated with her father's blood. "Don't be afraid, dear. I'm not going to hurt you. No, no, no. I still have use for you."

You're mine, lovey.

"Come now," he prompts softly, drawing Lihla's frozen form away from the wall and leading her firmly for the front door. "It's time to leave, Lihla-pretty. I have to go back to work, I'm afraid, and I'll have to take you along with me. Could I perhaps convince you to play nurse again for me? It worked so well last time. Come; let's go to my ship. We'll go to Navy HQ so I can check in, and I will introduce you to my superiors. I'm sure they'll love you. We should have no trouble having you installed as a Navy nurse under my command. Won't that be nice, dear?"

And I will find you again.

I'm coming, lovey. I'm coming for you.

A/N: Please review.