Chapter 22

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

Beta'd by Tomas the Betrayer.

Kyra can feel Trafalgar Law's fingers gently stroking her heart.

Such a strange feeling. It does not hurt, which at first was cause for great surprise. Surely it should be painful to have someone touch an internal organ? Yet Law handles her heart in his rough hands dozens of times every day and she never feels pain.

Breathlessness, nausea, depression, fury; she feels lots of things when he plays with her.

Just not pain.

He will doubtlessly bring it into their shared dreams once they both fall asleep, as he has for the last few days since removing the vital organ from her chest. For some sick reason, the Surgeon of Death seems to be obsessed with the taste of Kyra's blood. Somehow, having been cut from her chest by way of Law's Devil Fruit ability, the mage's heart remains filled with blood. It still beats. Kyra has spent the last six nights watching the pirate with whom she is soul-bonded suck on it like a child savoring a piece of candy. She has had her suspicions before that Law is absolutely insane, but this... this is just wrong. There are legends about pale blood-sucking monsters that require the crimson liquid to survive, but somehow she doubts that is the case with the Heart Pirate captain.

The feel of his mouth on her heart is without doubt the strangest thing she has ever felt in her life. Probably the closest thing to that in discomfort would be the upsurge in physical attraction that occurs during every one of these damn dreams. The lust had been expected, of course: her long-ago 'lessons' with the shaman had at least somewhat prepared her. But still, Kyra never expected it to be like this. She didn't know that it would be so painful. It physically hurts not to touch the Surgeon of Death in the dreams, not to kiss him back when his lips are on hers, not to put her hands on his bare chest to feel his twisted heart beating. It is an increasing struggle not to lean into his hand when he buries his fingers in her hair.

This... compulsion for touch is frightening. Kyra doesn't want it, she doesn't want any of it. She can't abide staying forever bound to Trafalgar Law, doomed to share his dreams. She is terrified at the thought of being forced by this damned bond to... to... mate with the sadistic pirate. It makes her skin crawl just considering it. She tells herself that the possessive feelings, the fear for his well-being, the possible tiny amount of curiosity or attraction she might have felt while part of Law's crew means nothing now. Her world has crashed down around her ears, and all those old feelings are like so much dust in the wind.

The sorceress just wants it all to end. She wants to be released from the hell her life has become. Death would be such a gift to her at this point.

The problem is, nobody ever gives a shit what she wants; and this time is no different.

The grinding sound of the cell door opening has Kyra wearily opening her eyes from her position in the corner, leaning tiredly against the wall next to her sorry excuse for a mattress. She slides an uncaring glance at the small group of Proeliators waiting outside the cell, eyes white with their power as their Imperator steps forward and grasps her shrunken upper arm in cold fingers. He hauls her up and marches her out, his men falling into step around them as Kyra stumbles along on trembling legs, so weak that only his iron grip on her wasted arm keeps her upright.

Maybe the starvation diet courtesy of her humble hosts is working a bit better than she thought.

The exhausted sorceress wonders where they are going now. It is evening - she thinks - and her daily torture sessions should be over until morning. Kyra is accustomed to spending all night curled up in her cell, falling asleep to be tormented by Law until the Proeliators wake her in the morning via a bucket of icy water dumped on her person. After the wake-up call comes the scraps from the shaman's table, followed by the march to the chamber set aside strictly for her disciplining. Merrick is always waiting for her there, joined by either the shaman or Lihla, depending on who was present the day before. Merrick himself does the majority of the dirty work - whether because he enjoys it the most or because the other two monsters have developed weak stomachs when their victims refuse to scream is up for debate.

Kyra wonders morbidly, as she often does when she lets her thoughts stray, if her mother screamed when her face was peeled off.

In short order she finds herself dragged up the dungeon steps into the imposing foyer of the shaman's home. She has not been in this part of the house since her disastrous homecoming three months ago. The marble doors are thrown open as Kyra is forced across the room, the rays of the setting sun pouring in and blinding her light-deprived eyes. Blinking, her face soaking up the warmth once she is led outside, the battered woman is vaguely surprised to see the vast crowd stretched out before her. The city center is packed with people of all the classes, the sordes mixed in with the elite, rich with poor, all citizens mashed together in front of the shaman's home. The people of Veneficus stand as one mass for possibly the first time in the island-city's history, no longer separated by walls or rank.

And all of them are staring in silence at the raised platform in the middle of Veneficus' circular city center, upon which Merrick waits with the shaman, Lihla... and a little boy who looks to be no older than ten, who is holding Lihla's hand and bawling for his mother.

The crowd parts like water for Kyra and her Proeliator escorts, murmurs breaking out in her wake. A terrible feeling of foreboding wells up in her gut; if a certain pirate captain had not removed her heart, it would be pounding wildly against her ribcage. Kyra wonders if Law is watching it right now, if he is curious as to why her heart rate has suddenly sped up exponentially. But she cannot ponder this long; she must instead focus on the pressing question of just what the hell is going on. Why has the shaman so stupidly brought her outside? Without his hundreds of wards, outside of his magic-sapping walls, Kyra can already feel her magic swelling in power. It is akin to the feeling of continuous shots of adrenaline, and she feels as though she could fly with her power surging through her veins again. Why would her tormentors give her the chance to regain her dangerous strength? And why is that boy holding Lihla's hand?

Her magic may be growing stronger by the second, but Kyra still stumbles while climbing the stairs of the newly-built platform to stand weakly before the terrifying trio. The Imperator releases her arm and bows at the waist to his master before backing up to stand on the edge of the stage. The other Proeliators spread out around the structure, their impassive faces turned to the crowd and their arms crossed over their chests. The people of Veneficus go silent once again, and all is quiet but for the boy's continued pleas.

After a dramatic pause, the shaman steps forward and begins to speak in the ancient tongue. His magically enhanced voice blasts over the crowd, soaring into the air as he raises his arms high overhead. Kyra's mind automatically translates his words. All the while her eyes remain fixed on the crying boy.

"Ego , Veneratio Simultas of Veneficus , hic precor meus vox ut Rector of Totus constrictum illa duos liberi of Vox una ut unus."

I, the Honored Shaman of Veneficus, hereby invoke my right as Leader of All to bind these two children of the Power together as one.

The pompous old toad is trying to force a binding yet again, this time outside in the hopes that the island's natural magics will seal a bond. Stupid fool; it doesn't matter what he does, Kyra is already bound to Law. He will never be able to bind her to Merrick, no matter how many times he tries or where he chooses to do so.

"Permissum suum animus fio unus , suum fatum iunctus ex hic ut infinitio."

Let their souls become one, their destinies joined from here to eternity.

"Ut placo filiolus , EGO dedi is insons insontis parvulus ut vitualamen."

To appease the gods, I offer this innocent child as sacrifice.

Oh, shit. The damn shaman is actually planning on using a blood sacrifice to force the fucking bond. The blood of an innocent has enormous value, and apparently the old man has finally grown desperate enough to break the most sacred laws of Veneficus by sacrificing an innocent for his own gain.

"Suus sanctimonia vadum consecro iugum illae everto quod suus materia."

His purity shall sanctify the union of this demon and her mate.

No. It won't. All it will achieve is the senseless death of this poor little boy, because blood sacrifice or not, there can only be one soul-bond for a person. Kyra has hers. As long as Law is alive, she will never be able to form a soul-bond with another. If the shaman goes through with this, if he kills this boy, it will have been for nothing. The kid will die and nothing will change. No manner of forbidden ceremonies will ever have any effect.

The shaman reaches inside one sleeve of his pure white robe and withdraws a bone-handled dagger. He steps towards the child, who is now trying desperately to tear his hand from Lihla's iron grip, sobbing hysterically, bleating and bawling for help that will never come. The people make no move to storm the stage, not even a twitch to protest the boy's murder. Wherever his mother might be, she does not dash forward to save the life of her child, nor does she scream out in agonized protest. This boy's family is going to stand out in that crowd and watch him die.

Rage boils Kyra's blood at this realization. What kind of parent abandons their offspring to a madman's control? What kind of person can stand there, silent and unconcerned, as an old fool murders a child in cold blood for his own personal gain? These people are pathetic, no better than the shaman who rules over them. This city-island is nothing but a blight upon the earth.

"Ut Ego decretum, sic is vadum exsisto!" The shaman cries, raising the dagger over his head in preparation for the killing blow.

As I degree, so it shall be!

The boy is screaming.

No.

The boy is going to die.

No.

The boy is going to die, and no one is going to lift a finger to help him.

NO!

Kyra flings herself across the platform in an instant, bowling Lihla over and snatching the child up in her arms as the knife descends. The ceremonial blade slices through her shoulder like butter, stabbing in and coming out again on the other side - scant inches to the left of the boy's face. Power explodes out of her, black magic expanding in a solid dome that throws everyone save herself and her shrieking cargo from the stage. The dagger disintegrates, the hole in her body healing in an instant as she huddles down and hugs the terrified waif to her chest.

Kyra's magic whips around them inside the protective sphere, little fingers of shadow lightly stroking her face and hair as she trembles. Three months she has waited for this day. Three months of torment as her magic broke down the fundamental make-up of the shaman's countless wards bit by bit, altering the genetic code of Kyra's blood so that the blood used in the wards no longer matches her own. Now, at last, she is complete again.

And there are three people close at hand who very much need killing.

But first she must get this kid to safety, lest the shaman try to complete this pointless ceremony. Rubbing a hand on the boy's back in an effort to calm him, Kyra runs on shaky legs to the edge of the stage and jumps down. Her limbs, weakened by torture and severe starvation, instantly buckle under her weight. She falls hard on her side and lies there for a moment, winded and hurting, her shield still encased securely about her and her arms wrapped just as tightly around the terrified boy. He clings to her, his face pressed into the fabric of her ragged smock over the empty space where her heart should be, soaking the cloth with his tears.

All around them is chaos. The crowd, panicked at the sight of their leader flung carelessly through the air by the proclaimed demon, runs in every direction in their efforts to get away, pushing and shoving like frightened beasts. The Imperator and his Proeliator minions hurl burning balls of magic against Kyra's shield. They reflect off its surface and shower upon the citizens, killing handfuls of them at a time. Merrick has vanished, disappearing into the rabble of people.

The shaman and his bitch daughter march towards her, dangerous and powerful and just begging her to slaughter them.

But there is the boy to consider.

Shit.

"Sordes vermin!" Lihla screams, perfect blonde hair tousled from her tumble off the platform. Kyra ignores her, pulling her magic in tight to her skin and staggering into the chaotic mob. She must find somewhere to dump the child. It would not do to put him in danger by engaging her foes while holding him in her arms. She plows a path through the frantic crowd, her powers easily relocating anyone in her way as she tries to put some distance between herself and the threat posed by her former captors.

Wait, what the hell is she doing? Kyra stops abruptly, cursing her own stupidity. Her magic is once more free to follow her orders, and they will get a hell of a lot further if she teleports than they will running in her condition. She can pop to the edges of the island, leave the kid, and come back to butcher the shaman and the harpy.

Having so decided, the Demon Witch yanks her magic inward and teleports with the child.

Right into Trafalgar Law's lap, knocking his chair to the floor of his submarine's galley and sending all three of them sprawling.

Double shit.

Kyra cushions the child's body with her own, which in turn crushes the Dark Doctor's lanky frame into the iron of his vessel's floor. She is quick to jump off of him, staggering sideways into the table due to her legs strenuously protesting such harsh treatment in their present state. Righting herself, the starved and exhausted mage backs into the nearest corner as she registers all the eyes that are fixed on her and her cargo. The crew has obviously gathered for a meal; everyone is sitting around the table, plates of food in front of them and mugs of some dubious substance in most of their hands. No one is moving, some of the men having frozen with forks halfway to their mouths as they stare at her in shocked silence. The boy is still crying, huge gulping sobs that only a child is capable of.

Seeing motion from the corner of her eye, Kyra's full attention snaps to Law as he picks himself up off the floor, dusting imaginary dirt from his clothing and readjusting his hat. He looks at her, and the young woman cannot control the flinch that jolts through her at the fire in his normally cold grey eyes. She hugs the child protectively, waiting for Law's reaction, terrified of what he might do or say.

After a long, tense, gut-wrenching moment where the Surgeon of Death simply stares at her, the captain of the Heart Pirates lets a spine-chilling smirk curve his lips. The expression dominates his face until he looks quite mad, a cross between the sadistic genius he always is and a little boy who has just been told that all his deepest wishes have come true. Law flows across the floor towards her, not seeming the least bit perturbed when Kyra cringes away from him and presses herself hard against the wall, or how she flinches again when he reaches out and buries his fingers in her hair. Again he gives her a look that is so full of heat it practically scorches her, freakishly ecstatic smirk firmly in place.

"Well, well, well," Law drawls, sounding horrifyingly pleased. "Welcome back, my magician."

Triple shit.

His woman is pressing herself into the wall of his galley like a trapped animal, her arms wrapped tightly around the crying boy in her arms. Kyra is filthy, her skin dotted with old blood stains and smeared with dirt, her black locks a tangled mess. The smock she wears has seen better days. She is paper-white, and so thin the bones of her face jut out unattractively.

Law thinks her the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.

She is trembling under his hand, shaking as though chilled to the core. Her eyes have slammed closed, and the pirate captain watches as she hugs the kid in her arms closer. Kyra's lips part, her tongue darting out to wet them, her mouth working for a moment as she tries to say something. Law plants his free hand on the wall beside her head and leans in until their noses brush, ignoring the boy she holds, ignoring his watching crew. He is so close to his magician that in the absolute silence of the galley he can hear the absence of her heartbeat.

"Please," she croaks, her voice the metallic rasp of one who has not exercised their vocal cords for long periods of time. "Don't hurt him. The child. Please."

Were it possible for Law to smirk wider, he would be doing so now. The boy? Who gives a damn? He has no interest whatsoever in the sobbing brat. He leans away slightly, cocking his head to the side and regarding his magician for a long moment before releasing her hair and taking a measured step back.

"Bepo."

The bear is instantly at his side, fur standing on end and ears laid flat against his head.

"Take the boy."

The hulking first mate moves to do just that, only to be rebuffed by a magical shield that immediately pops into existence. It passes over Law as though he is not there, pushing Bepo away so that it encompasses the three humans. Kyra's shaking has intensified, and she has shifted slightly so that the boy is between her and the corner - presumably safe from a sudden snatching.

"Don't touch him," she rasps out, opening eyes black as tar. Law quirks an eyebrow at her, not impressed in the least. He steps back up to her and slips his hands under her arms, getting a good grip on the kid before giving him a sharp tug. The boy wails louder as he is jerked from Kyra's arms, her weak limbs no match for the wiry strength of the Surgeon of Death. Law backs out of the shield and passes the brat off to Bepo, grabbing Kyra's wrist when she attempts to go past him. The girl is barely capable of remaining on her feet, her wrist so thin that the surgeon is nearly surprised that her bones don't simply snap under the pressure of his restraining fingers. He wraps a steadying arm around her tiny waist as an added precaution when she wobbles dangerously, free hand reaching for the kid now tucked under one of Bepo's arms.

"Bepo, take the child to Kyra's old room," Law orders quietly. "Take some food with you. You will stay with him until I say otherwise."

"Yes, Captain."

Kyra's shield collapses as she fights weakly against Law's hold, trying in vain to reach out as Bepo exits the galley with a large plate of food and the bawling brat. The rest of the crew is watching silently from their seats at the table, some of them staring at Kyra's extremely malnourished body while others examine their captain for a sign of what he plans to do next. He ignores everyone, his grey eyes seeking out Neil and pinning him in place.

"Make some soup," he commands, bending slightly and sweeping his magician up in his arms. "Nothing too heavy, her body will reject it. Bring the largest bowl you can fill of it to the infirmary once it's done."

Neil nods dumbly as he rises from his seat, staring warily at the woman who has gone still in his captain's embrace. Law can feel the tremors wracking Kyra's body as he turns away from his crew and strolls out of the galley, holding her tightly against his chest and savoring the experience. She is real. This is not a shared dream. She is real, and she is back on his sub, and she is in his arms.

The Dark Doctor is very, very pleased.

He sets his cargo on one of the infirmary beds and is about to step away to get an IV line set up when shaky fingers latch onto the fabric of his hoodie. Bloodshot blue eyes stare up at him, the skin around them bruised from lack of sleep and proper nutrients. Kyra's lips move as she whispers something, the words jumbling into an unintelligible mutter. Law bends down and places his ear near her mouth as she repeats herself.

"Where is it?"

He knows immediately what she is talking about. Trafalga straightens up and smirks down at her, laying one hand flat against her empty chest. "It's safe. I assure you, I'm taking very good care of it."

Kyra stares up at him for a long moment, eyes flittering across his face as though looking for answers to unasked questions. Whatever she finds is apparently not pleasing, for she closes them and clenches her fist in his hoodie for just a second before releasing it and letting her arm fall. She says nothing else as Law moves away and gathers the materials he will need to correct the atrocious state of her health. It is clear that the girl has been starved, and he has been aware for some time that the continuous beatings bestowed upon her by her captors were taking their toll despite being healed by her magic. She has dropped a dangerous amount of weight in the months of their separation. Her muscles have likely begun to atrophy as well, and the strength of her bones has probably been negatively affected. Getting her back into a reasonably healthy condition is going to be something of a chore, especially since Law doubts she has given up her desire for death. She is not going to make this easy for anyone, but that is alright: he enjoys a challenge.

His magician doesn't move again until he slides the IV needle into a vein in her arm. She jolts on the bed, her eyes flying open and the opposite hand swooping towards the needle. Law quickly grabs her wrist, restraining her from yanking the tip out as she so obviously wants to do. He gives her a squeeze and levels a stern look at her.

"Do not think that I will hesitate to strap you to this bed," he warns her quietly, using his free hand to tape the IV line in place. Once it is secured his fingers dance up her arm, over her shoulder to wrap lightly around her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive spot just under her jaw on the left side. She shudders violently, wild eyes fixed on the needle until his fingers move enough to grasp her chin and redirect her attention to him. "It will not hurt you. You will not touch it. Do you understand?"

Her sea-blue eyes are incredibly dull, not at all the sparking orbs of three months prior when she leapt to protect her precious cousin from Law's death threat. She doesn't fight him as he half-expects her to; her arm goes limp in his hold and she turns her head away, staring at the far wall. The surgeon moves his fingers back to her throat, stroking softly as he releases Kyra's wrist and lifts the hem of her ragged smock. She is bare under it, but he is more interested in the way every one of her ribs is pressing against her skin as though trying to come through. Her belly is practically nonexistent, so sunken in that it appears someone has hollowed out the area below her ribcage. Law is at least pleased to note that she is not swollen with fluid, as sometimes happens with starvation victims.

Yes, it's going to take a lot of work to get his magician back in tiptop shape again.

The Supernova hears a knock on the door of the infirmary and pulls the smock down again before bidding Neil to enter. The cook hurries over with a large glass of some bright green substance, which he hands to Law.

"Protein shake, Captain," he explains in a rush, already walking quickly back out the door. "I'll be back as soon as the soup's ready."

Law watches his back until the door closes behind him, at which time he turns his attention back to the girl in front of him. She has also refocused on him - or more accurately, on the glass he holds in one hand. Her face is expressionless, but the pirate captain would bet a substantial amount of money that Kyra is about to start being difficult.

It won't make any difference. She will drink every last drop of this green goop if he has to plug her nose and pour it down her throat.

Actually, force-feeding her might be entertaining... if he does it a little... differently.

"Are you going to drink this like a good little girl, my magician?" He is sure to make his voice as condescending as possible, banking on pissing her off by treating her like the child she so obviously wishes she wasn't. Now that he's had his idea, Law wants to try it. It won't do for Kyra to suddenly decide to cooperate and spoil his fun.

She wraps her wasted arms around herself and turns completely on her side, back facing him, shaking again. She doesn't answer his question. Law takes this as a refusal and brings the drink to his own lips so that he can take a sip. Thankfully, the stuff isn't as disgusting as it looks; the flavor of mint is heavy on his tongue, along with what might possibly be kiwi and lime. A strange combination, but far from unpleasant. The surgeon holds the liquid in his mouth as he walks around the bed on which his patient lies, fisting a hand in her hair and turning her head so that it faces the ceiling. Blue eyes watch him distrustfully, and Law gives his magician a close-lipped simle before he seals his mouth over hers, transferring the protein shake to her in the process.

Kyra gasps sharply, probably from surprise, and promptly begins to choke.

Law pulls away so that the girl can weakly prop herself on her elbows, twisting away from him and coughing in an attempt to clear her lungs of however much of the shake she just inhaled. He is slightly annoyed that with the taste of the drink in his mouth he is unable to pick up the unique flavor he has been sampling in his dreams, but brushes this aside. Kyra is here now, and as he has absolutely no plans to let her leave again - ever - he will easily have access to her whenever he pleases.

"Why... why won't you just... stop?" she whispers once she finishes clearing her throat, collapsing back on the bed Law knows she hates and looking absolutely exhausted. "Why won't you just let me die, you fucking bastard? What do you want from me?"

He traces her quivering lower lip, smirking when she tries to flinch away from his touch, lowering his head again to mouth at the flesh of her throat. What does Law want from her? An excellent question for his magician to ask. He could tell her he wants her magic backing his quest for One Piece. He could tell her he wants her personal scent cutting through the odors on the sub. He could say that he wants her sharp wit matched with his own, breaking up the monotony of long hauls at sea. He could claim he wants the sweetness of her blood and skin and mouth within easy reach. He might even confess that he wants her undying loyalty, freely given to him and no other, so strong that she would kill everything in her path to return to him if ever they became separated again.

Instead Trafalgar Law whispers a single word into her neck.

"Everything."

"I don't have anything left to give!" Kyra barks in reply, twitching under his lips and trying to sit up. Law pushes her down with one hand as the other carefully keeps the shake from spilling. He climbs up on the bed with her and straddles her bony hips. She lashes out at him with her fists, her blows as weak as swats from a newborn kitten. "I've lost everything! My mother! My freedom! My fucking heart! I don't even have a reason to live anymore! What can I have that you would possibly want, you psycho? Isn't it bad enough that I'm soul-bonded with you for the rest of my life? That you've cut my fucking heart out of my chest? What more could you possibly fucking want from me?"

Tears are rolling down his magician's face, and Law has no compunctions against licking them off as best he can while Kyra tries her damnedest to avoid him. Her painfully thin body wiggles beneath him, her hips bucking upwards as she tries to unseat him. He grins at her, pressing his own hips down to meet hers, grinding against her and leaving no doubt as to what exactly it might be that he wants. She freezes, staring up at him with eyes fully dilated by instant terror.

"It seems to me, my dear magician," the Dark Doctor purrs softly against her cheek, setting the protein drink on a wheeled medical tray within arm's reach so that both his hands are free, "that at least part of the answer you want is painfully obvious. Trust me when I say that you have plenty left to give me. Perhaps I will even return the favor by providing you with another reason to live, hmm?"

He takes her slack lip between his teeth, holding her gaze as he bites down hard enough to draw blood, letting his own flutter half closed as the sweet liquid drowns his taste buds. Law kisses the girl in earnest, forcing his tongue between her jaws and exploring her warm mouth as his hands move to grip her sides roughly. That touch seems to galvanize Kyra, as she jolts and jerks her head away, shaking hands coming up to her captain's chest as a pathetic barrier.

"No," she rasps breathlessly, the delicious fear in her voice and eyes doing nothing to calm the fires in Law's veins. "Don't. Please don't. Not this too. Please, I can't -"

"Shhh," he hushes her, darting back down to take a swipe at her bleeding lip. "Relax. You're much too thin for the activities I have in mind. Neil will have to put some meat on your bones before we have our fun. There's no rush now. We have all the time in the world."

Not that Law has any intention of waiting any longer than absolutely necessary, but she doesn't have to know that.

"I won't stay here," his magician whimpers pitifully as his fingers stroke up and down her sides over the cheap fabric of the smock she wears. "I won't stay here while my mother's killer is still alive. I won't stay here and play your bitch like my magic wants when the shaman and his fucking daughter still breathe. I'll leave. I'm going to kill them. I -"

"You will not step foot off of this sub without me by your side," Law interrupts smoothly, digging his fingertips into her pasty white skin. "You will stay here until I say differently. You will share my room, you will share my bed, and - trust me on this one - you will enjoy it."

Kyra whips her head back towards him, her eyes wet and wild as her magic explodes out of her skin.

"I won't!" she screams hoarsely, shoving weakly at his chest. "I won't be your whore! I won't let you take that away from me too! Don't you get it, you stupid fool? None of this is real! None of what you're feeling is real! It's all just a forced reaction because of the fucking soul-bond! It's just a goddamn illusion! I'd rather die than let you fuck me! I'll kill you before that happens!"

Things are breaking all over his infirmary. The mattresses on the other beds are ripped to shreds, stuffing flying everywhere. The glass fronts of his cabinets shatter, as do the glass bottles within. The protein shake explodes, splashing green liqiud everywhere. Law ignores it all, smirking down at his magician.

"And how do you plan to accomplish that, I wonder? Do you really think you're strong enough to kill me without the aid of your powers when you can't even push me away?" He laughs at her, amused by her pointless rebellion, not caring in the least for her aversion to him. "Pirates aren't known to take 'no' for an answer, Kyra. I don't care about this soul-bond. Unless it was formed back at that slave auction, it has nothing to do with me."

He cocks his head to the side as a wonderfully amusing thought comes to him. Laughing softly, the Surgeon of Death regards his woman with bedroom eyes and a sly smile.

"I have to wonder: are you really trying to convince me that what I feel isn't real? Or are you actually just trying to convince yourself that whatever you might feel for me is just a compulsion forced on you by this bond of ours? Perhaps, my dear, something other than the physical presence of your heart on my ship brought you back here tonight. Maybe you should simply stop fighting yourself. If you let go of your stubborn refusal to let yourself want me, perhaps you would find that you do indeed have something to live for."

He tastes her lips one more time, lifts himself off of her and casually sidesteps the destruction of his infirmary on his way to the door.

"I am going to check on what is delaying the delivery of your soup. When I return, I expect my med bay to be restored to its proper condition. Do not remove the IV from your arm. Do not get up from that bed. I will transfer you to my room after you have eaten your soup. You will bathe, then sleep. You can tell me why you brought a brat here with you in the morning. I will be back shortly."

Law closes the heavy door behind him and leans his back against it, a twisted grin dominating his facial features when he hears the sound of his magician sobbing. He will not be sleeping tonight; he will allow the girl her privacy in the dreamscape to give her a little extra time to process everything. He will assign Bepo to babysit the brat until something can be done about him, and then he will devote his time to systematically breaking down all of his magician's resistance. By the time Kyra is healthy enough for strenuous physical activity, Law has every intention of having her completely infatuated with him.

After all, he is Trafalgar Law: Surgeon of Death, Supernova super-rookie, and notorious ladies man. How hard can this be?

A/N: Please review.