Er, hey. Long time no see. In fact, it's been long enough that I feel the need to recap the end of the last chapter:
You're still peeking halfway out of the truck, speechless, when Ahkmenrah turns, two crumpled would-be kidnappers at his feet, and says, "I promised you reparation for your harsh treatment, but I think we should let your law enforcement take it from here."
You can feel your jaw hanging slack.
"Who are you?"
Chapter 3
Ahkmenrah looks a bit sheepish.
"I am all that I said before. There is, however, more to me than I may have led you to believe." If his bearing was any less regal, he'd be scuffing his sandal on the ground. Even so, he looks tempted to fidget. "I suggest we remove ourselves from this situation before the police arrive. I will explain my… circumstances… then."
You wonder why he is so eager to avoid the police. There is a cold pit in your stomach at the various possibilities.
Your soulmate is disregarding your rapidly paling face for the time being, rummaging through the unconscious guards' pockets. He finds what he's looking for, and with a little flip and a flourish he brandishes a switchblade at you.
In any other situation you'd be impressed.
As it is, you feel a bit faint.
"Wha—?" You can feel your IQ dropping as your vision narrows down to the glint of the knife. You're not sure this evening—morning, really—can get any more surreal.
"Your wrists look rather worse for wear. We should take care of those ties befo—are you well?"
Your lower lip feels strangely trembly. Your head feels like it's floating a few feet above your body, untethered and liable to blow away. You sniff.
Ahkmenrah looks horrified.
"You thought—? Oh, dear heart." He closes the blade and tucks it away, and with two strides he eats up the distance between you. Warm fingers tuck escaping strands of hair behind your ears. "You must know that I will never harm you."
You want to laugh the whole thing off—haha, I totally deal with kidnapping and assault all the time, no biggie—but you're starting to realize that you've come to the end of your tether for the night. You're overtired and overwrought, and you just want take a scalding shower and sleep for a week.
And maybe cuddle a little. You're never averse to cuddling.
"Yes." Your voice, when you find it, is tiny.
His hands are warm and dry (did he literally not break a sweat during that altercation? Your own palms are clammy and unpleasant) when he cups them around your face.
"As long as it is in my power, no harm will come to you." His eyes are serious, boring into your embarrassingly wet ones. Native New Yorkers will probably cast you out for this emotional display. Kidnapping is probably old hat for them. A rite of passage or something.
You are still staring soulfully into each other's eyes—or, he's staring soulfully, and you're trying to even out your breathing and beat back a flood of tears—when the constant soundtrack of sirens (a couple years of living in the city has inured you to it) becomes less of a background noise and more of a foreground noise. Ahkmenrah stiffens.
"We've lingered too long."
Your wrists are free before you register him reaching for the switchblade. He doesn't even knick your skin.
Ahkmenrah strides to the front of the truck, towing you in his wake, and reaches into the open passenger side. He hands you your purse and you gratefully sling it over your shoulder. You'd forgotten that they'd taken it. You'd also forgotten about his tablet, but he's kept his head during all of this and seems to be going through a mental checklist. Rescue soulmate? Check. Comfort said soulmate when she begins to lose her shit? Check. Retrieve priceless artifact? Double check. Run from approaching police sirens by ducking into shady alleys? Mission in progress.
Generally you avoid said shady-looking alleys, but you feel pretty confident about your chances due to the man holding your hand. You pity the fool who tries to get the jump on Ahkmenrah. He's only armed with a flashy chunk of gold (he'd tossed the knife away as soon as you were free), but you've never felt safer.
Now if only you can ignore this stitch in your side, things will be golden.
You almost trip over your own feet in amusement because haha, golden like the tablet—that isn't even funny, am I going into hysterics? Ahkmenrah braces you absently.
"We should—get a—taxi." You try and fail not to sound like a winded buffalo.
"I'm afraid I have no form of payment." And of course he sounds as unruffled as ever.
"—have—cash."
This, thankfully, prompts him to stop. You brace a hand against the nearest wall and pant. You're not sure where, exactly, the two of you have ended up. Or where you started out. One of the thugs had mentioned something about dropping you off in Jersey, but you had been too… distracted… to hear whether or not the truck had gone over a bridge.
God, I hope we're not in Jersey.
"I believe we've traveled out of the city." Dammit. "The fare is likely to be… exorbitant."
You pull a wad of tips from your back pocket. The amount of bills looks impressive, but given that it is almost entirely in ones…
"We'll have to take a bus."
Ahkmenrah acts as though he's never used public transportation before. You wish you could say the same for yourself, but the stale sweat and cigarette smell of the seats just makes you ill. Ahkmenrah herds you into an empty spot, claiming the aisle seat and clutching his tablet as though the shabby-looking gentleman the aisle over will try to pry it from him. Which, fair enough, he might. It's pretty… gold.
You hope your soulmate isn't hoping for much in the way of stimulating conversation on the ride back. You slump bonelessly next to him, head thumping against the smudged window. It's quiet for a minute, and you drift on the edge of consciousness. The second the bus shifts into drive, however, your teeth are nearly rattled out of your head, and you jerk away from the glass. A warm arm drapes over your shoulders and you're tugged inexorably towards an equally warm and considerably more comfortable chest.
"Sleep. I will prevent any and all kidnapping attempts."
"You never answered the question," you murmur.
"To which do you refer?"
So evasive.
"Is it still kidnapping if we're adults?"
He lets out a surprised snort. It is endearingly un-regal.
"I believe that is still the commonly accepted term. Regardless, you are in no danger."
"S'that a fact?"
"It's a promise."
You drift off to his thumb rubbing circles on your shoulder.
It's sometime after four in the morning when you stumble up your apartment steps. Ahkmenrah is still bright-eyed and alert, one hand on your elbow as you dig for your keys. You're really glad he remembered to grab your purse because heaven knows no one's going to buzz you in at this ungodly hour.
"I have a couple roommates, but I'm sure they're asleep. I can make us coffee?" Yes, coffee. Coffee is good. Sleep would be better, but first you want answers.
"I'm amenable." He holds the door when you finally manage to get it open. His manners are charmingly… old-school. His mother must be proud.
You direct him toward the stairwell because as exhausted as you may be, you're not about to risk the elevator. That thing is a deathtrap. The whole of your apartment building is… modest, to say the least.
Okay, it's a dump. You're a poor college student and your roommates are in the same sinking boat with only school loans to keep them afloat. You've all resigned yourselves to drowning.
Ahkmenrah glances around with interest despite the obvious water stains and general state of disrepair. Or, more likely, his curiosity is due to these. He has the bearing of someone who is used to a certain level of decorum and wealth. You try not to be too embarrassed.
"It's kind of a shithole." And there you go, with all the eloquence of a well-bred lady. You hunch your shoulders as you lead the way up the stairs.
"It has a certain… lived-in charm." He sounds amused.
"Are you a politician, by any chance? Because that was very diplomatic." You're joking, of course, but you glance behind you just in time to see a strange look pass over his features. "Wait, you're not, are you?"
"Not as such, no."
"You sure skirt around straight answers like one." You wince at your tone. "Sorry, that was harsh."
"No apology needed. I am aware that I've been… less than forthcoming about myself." He catches up to you as you stop on your landing and opens the door as you reach for it. "However, I have every intention of answering any and all of your questions in the relative privacy of your home. I just ask that you let me explain in full before… deciding on a course of action." He looks worried, which makes you worried.
"That bad, huh?"
"I wouldn't say 'bad,' per say, simply strange."
So yes, definitely that bad.
You square your shoulders.
"Honestly, after tonight I'm prepared for just about anything."
As it turns out, you are not prepared for the people in your apartment.
"Dios, you're okay." You're nearly bowled over as soon as you unlock the door by a pintsized Marisol. Ahkmenrah braces you from behind as your fellow waitress cups your face and looks over you for injuries. She's not happy with what she finds.
"Those bastardos! I knew they were no good the moment I saw them. I saw you get taken—esos hijos de puta grabbed you in front of the windows—but they were gone before I could kick their sorry asses."
Behind her, you can see your roommates, tired but alert, and Marisol's two soulmates. Marcus, Marisol's most recent soulmate, gives you a little wave from the couch.
"The police called half an hour ago. They found a truck and two suspects matching Marisol's description, but no sign of you," Marcus says. "Marisol's been beside herself. Hell, we all have. What happened?"
"Are you okay?" Jessica, one of your roommates, asks.
"Who's he?" Ricardo, Marisol's other soulmate, is glaring at Ahkmenrah.
"Dios, give the girl some space! Look at her, she's all roughed up. Move, move!" Marisol shoos Marcus to one end of the couch and ushers you onto it. You wince, bruised tailbone protesting the change in position. Ahkmenrah hovers over you, obviously unsure whether to sit or stand or flee. Marisol solves his dilemma by shoving him down next to you.
Jessica brings over a cup of coffee—sweet, blessed nectar of the gods—and eyes Ahkmenrah. In fact, every eye in the room is flicking between the two of you, unsure whether to focus on your sorry state or his… strange one. That costume has got to go.
"You, uh. You want a cup?" Jessica asks. She's looking at his gold chest piece. You want to say, "His eyes are up here," but that's ridiculous. She's not checking him out, and he's not exactly a damsel in distress. That would be you.
"No, thank you." He's very subdued under the gaze of your (admittedly very judgmental) friends.
"Now," Marisol says, "What happened?"
You take a bracing gulp of the steaming coffee. Mmm, hazelnut.
"Well, I'm not sure what their motives were, exactly, but they grabbed me for… insurance? They weren't very forthcoming and then they were unconscious. I think they knew that I overheard them plotting in the diner—not that I heard anything worthwhile—and figured I was as good a hostage as any. Although why they needed one in the first place, I never found out. Basically their plan was a hot mess."
"There were just the two men? The two you served?" Marisol asks.
"Mhm. They were after this—" Here, you point at the tablet. Ahkmenrah's grip tightens under everyone's speculative stare. "—and that's how Ahkmenrah got involved. He works for the AMNH."
Sort of. You think.
This would all be so much easier if they had waited to ambush you until after Ahkmenrah explained… whatever it is that needs explaining. His situation. His sordid past. Whatever.
"So they tried to pull a National Treasure?" Jessica is perched in a chair across from you. Your other roommate looks like she's nodding off at the kitchen table. You envy her.
"Basically. Ahkmenrah laid 'em out, though." More stares. "Just to clarify, he's my soulmate."
That gets a reaction. Hoo, boy.
"He's your what?"
"Both of you got kidnapped on the same night?"
"Is he into some kind of weird role-play shit?" There's a slap after that one. Ricardo rubs his shoulder and glares balefully at Marisol. "Was a valid question," he mutters.
"He's my soulmate. And yes, obviously. Kismet is sort of a huge part of this whole soulmate thing, you know. And we haven't discussed kinks yet, Ricardo." You answer rapid-fire, your patience at the end of its tether.
Ahkmenrah looks vaguely horrified at the direction this conversation has taken. He sinks about two inches lower in the cushions.
"Look, I, for one, am exhausted. I appreciate you guys' concern, but I'm about two minutes away from total system failure. Can we reconvene later?" You chug the last of your coffee.
"I'll call the police and let them know you're safe." Marcus is standing up, his hand on Marisol's back in an effort to herd her to the door. Marisol is unconvinced.
"You're sure you're okay? You don't need a doctor?"
"She's fine, Mar. Strong girl like her? She's probably the reason one of those guy's has a fractured jaw." Ricardo winks at you.
At the words "fractured jaw" you have a flashback to Ahkmenrah's foot burying itself in possibly-Gary's face. You smirk. Your soulmate can kick some ass.
"Yes, yes. But tomorrow, chica, we're having a talk." She looks significantly between you and Ahkmenrah. "And put some ice on that face!"
Marisol's soulmates finally manage to shove her out of the door. Marcus shoots a parting, "Go to the police station tomorrow!" and then it's you, Ahkmenrah, Jessica, and soft snoring from the kitchen table.
"I'll put that one to bed. Nice to meet you… I'm sorry, what's your name?" Jessica is hovering over your sleeping roommate, balancing politeness with a desire to get back to bed herself.
"I am Ahkmenrah. I'm sorry to have met you under such… inauspicious circumstances."
"Well, the way it sounds we're all lucky that you were there tonight. So thanks." She nods at him and when he glances at you with a soft smile, she gives you a discreet thumbs up. At least someone approves.
"Onward, then," you say, taking his free hand and pulling him towards your closet.
Room. You mean room.
You both pile in and you immediately toe off your work shoes. Ahkmenrah closes the door behind you. You think you hear the lock click.
"Sorry for the mess. And the close quarters." You don't see any bras lying around, so there's that, at least.
"This is hardly "close quarters," and you needn't keep apologizing. You have yet to show me anything that would make me think less of you." He sets his tablet on the dresser. The lights shining through the half-open window blinds cut across his face like a character in a noir film.
It strikes you suddenly that you are alone with him. In a bedroom. With a bed. As would be expected of a bedroom.
"Do you mind if I grab a quick shower? I'm sure I still smell like diner food." Way to set the mood, self.
Ahkmenrah glances out of the window as if gaging the time. As if you can do that in the city.
"Of course. I have time."
In the bathroom, you take the quickest, hottest shower of your life. You even manage to shave. Because of reasons. Reasons that have nothing to do with your soulmate standing in your bedroom. Or possibly sitting. On your bed.
You rush through brushing your teeth.
You reenter your bedroom considerably more awake than when you left it. You also smell like floral shampoo instead of fried food, which is a huge plus.
Ahkmenrah is, indeed, sitting on your bed. He has a book in his hands.
"Is that my high school yearbook?" Please, god, no.
"Your friends' comments are very… colorful." He's looking at the front pages, where your friends had signed it. And written some vulgar poetry. Among other things.
"Not really the impression I wanted to give on our first day. High school was a dark time." You try to tug it out of his hands.
"Someone was a very talented artist." He's pointing to… oh, god, they're little drawings of dicks. You'd forgotten. You'd repressed the memories.
"Are you still standing by that comment about not thinking less of me?"
He uses your grip on the book to tug you forward. He tips his head up and kisses your chin, the closest part to him.
"You're right. After this, I have changed my mind about you. That you kept such company is unforgivable—" You cover his smirking mouth with your own, finally wresting the book from his hands and tossing it somewhere behind you. You hope the binding breaks.
Ahkmenrah seizes your hips in his now free hands, pulling you down to straddle him. You find this arrangement to be much preferable to a bouncing truck bed. He's gentle with your bruised face, peppering kisses along your jaw. You move to reclaim his lips, but he ducks to lay a kiss against your fluttering pulse, his teeth grazing gently down your neck.
"Ah-Ahkmenrah." You rock a little in his lap.
He responds by tipping you back into your pillows, following you with a groan. He kisses you with purpose, as if he could take you apart with his tongue. You're not sure how far this is going to go, but he has one hand under your knee, hitching it up on his hip, and that angle brings with it the most delicious friction. You cant your hips and he responds with a growl that sounds like your name. He nips your lip a little too hard when you scrape your nails along the base of his neck, and soothes it with his tongue in silent apology.
Time seems fluid—one kiss turns into two turns into ten—and you never get more clothes off than his chest piece. You're smoothing your fingers over your words when he stiffens, looking toward the window in silent alarm.
"No—the dawn—I mustn't be here when the sun crests the horizon." His voice is panicked, but you're far too languid to match his manic energy.
"Your carriage gonna turn back into a pumpkin?"
"No, I—forgive me. I need to leave." He's already off the bed, tablet in hand. You sit up, already missing his weight. A glance out the window reveals a glow rapidly spreading across the small sliver of sky you can see between buildings.
"You're going to the museum, right?" He nods jerkily. "I hate to say it, but I don't think you're gonna beat the sun there."
He looks despairingly toward the sky. His shoulders sag.
"I was a fool." He covers his face with a hand. "I shouldn't have… and now it is all for naught. Forgive me."
"You're scaring me." He'd faced down two armed men and hadn't broken a sweat, but a little sun and it's as if the world is ending.
"I need a favor of you." He kneels before you, setting the tablet beside him and taking your hands in his.
"Anything." Need a kidney? I've got two.
"I need a place… a closet will do. You need to close it and leave it undisturbed until nightfall. Do not open it for any reason."
"Wait… close it? With you inside?" You give him a have you completely lost it? look.
"Yes. It is of utmost importance." His eyes are deadly serious.
"…Do you have a sun phobia?"
He doesn't even crack a smile. Not that you were joking, but you can't imagine what his reasoning could be for this… insanity.
"Please don't ask me anymore. There is no time, and I fear—" He breaks off, pressing your hands to his forehead.
"Hey, hey, okay. Whatever you need." You gently disengage and open your closet door.
Oh, there's the rest of the mess.
"Thank you." He doesn't even seem to notice the strewn clothes, stepping into the tiny space and sitting cross legged on the floor.
You stare at him.
"You sure about this? You can crash on my bed, or—"
"I would not ask this if the situation were not so dire." He looks miserable.
"Right. Well. I'll just…" You motion vaguely. "…Goodnight?"
A corner of his mouth quirks up the tiniest fraction of a centimeter.
"I could not have asked for a better soulmate."
"Well, you probably could've asked for one with a bigger closet, but here we are." You close the door.
Silence reigns for a couple minutes while you wait for him to reemerge, ending this bizarre prank. He doesn't. As the room lightens, you begin to consider that he wasn't joking. He really intends to stay in the closet all day.
"Hey, uh, I forgot to get some clothes out." You knock on the door, feeling absurd. "Do you mind?"
He doesn't answer.
"I just need to grab a shirt. Two seconds." You grip the handle, ready to nab the closest garment to the door. You crack the door, peer inside, and—
You scream.
End Note
So, I'm not dead. Surprise!
Thanks for all of the reviews and support. I really, truly appreciate it. I've had a lot of changes in my life since my last update, though I've never for a moment forgotten about this story or the others. Here's to hoping that as this semester winds to a close I'll get some time to crank out some chapters.