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harmonyrae · 2 months ago

Text

Vow

Synopsis: You're so careful, so calculated, but one bad investment could ruin you. A leather-clad knight on a Harley has a solution to your problems, but are you brave enough to take the risk?

AN: Inked Sequel. The “FMC” was technically in Inked, so she has a set hair color. That is the only physical feature that has any relevance to the plot. Cover images from Pinterest.

Content Warnings: A LOT OF PLOT & angst, smut is coming soon & it's juicy (prepare yourself), explicit language & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, vehicle accident & serious injuries, blood/vomit mentioned, needles & medical procedures (stitches), masturbation (f), 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 14.8k

It’s cold. So damn cold. Is your evol acting up again? You feel something wet coating your leg, it’s warm and it hurts. Fuck, it hurts a lot.

Your eyes flutter open as the warmth spreads from your shin to your thigh and continues up your right leg. You slowly turn your head and feel a dull ache along your upper back. It’s so dark, why is it so dark? Your hands reach up to rub your eyes, but come in contact with your helmet. You struggle to unhook the strap, panic slowly bubbling to the surface, and nearly cry out when you finally pull your helmet off. The helmet falls to the ground beside you and you tug your gloves off with your teeth.

“Where the hell am I?”

You try to sit up, gritting your teeth to distract yourself from the searing pain shooting across your back. When you finally look down at the damp spot on your jeans, you roll to your side to vomit. Blood. Your pants leg is completely soaked in blood. Wiping your mouth with the backside of your hand, you squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head.

“You’re a fucking doctor, pull it together.”

You know how shock works and that the sight of blood wasn’t what turned your stomach. You see more blood than this on regular Tuesday, it’s just your body responding to the trauma. You push yourself upright and reach down to try and tear away the bloody fabric. Before you can make any progress you hear a loud rumble behind you. You stop to look around, your eyes burn as the wind whips across your face. You finally realize what happened and where you are.

You look over your shoulder and see your bike on the side of the road, tires popped, the body scratched and broken and a streak of blood leading down to where you’re sitting. You try to look for any sign of what caused the crash, but you’re too far down the ravine. There’s another loud pop and rumble. You scramble to place yourself behind the tree next to you, biting your lip to suppress a scream. Your hands sting from the sharp rocks and sticks slicing through your skin. You lean back against the trunk and wheeze, trying to catch your breath.

What if it’s a cop? Or someone who knows you from the city? Your bike is registered with the police as belonging to a racer, and your attire wouldn’t help your case. They’d have to arrest you and then you could kiss your career goodbye. The hospital would have to fire you, you’d lose your apartment… What would your family think of you? What’ll happen to Ollie?!

You’re on the verge of a complete breakdown when you hear the low roar of, what you think, might be another bike. Something big by the sounds of it. You wrap your arms around yourself and hold your breath, trying to become invisible. Boy, that’d be a handy superpower right about now. The bike slows and the brakes whine as it comes to a full stop. The rider dismounts and walks through the broken glass to your bike. Just as you’re about to lean over for a peek, you spot your helmet, discarded on the ground a few feet in front of you. You have no time to consider your options, the snap of a twig alerts you to the rider's new location.

“Hello?”

A man, his voice deep and smooth as silk, cuts through the frigid night air. Another twig snaps, he’s closer. There’s nowhere you can go, but you’ve somehow convinced yourself that if you remain perfectly still, maybe he won’t keep looking for you or –

“Oh, hello there.”

Well fuck.

You glance up at the mountain of a man before you and instantly recognize his signature leather jacket and custom helmet. The brilliant red dragon hand painted with wings that turned to fire along the edges glimmers in the moonlight. Ryūō. You want to let out a sigh of relief, but he still had his helmet on, you didn’t, he’s seen your face.

A gloved hand reaches up to slide the visor up and reveal his eyes, his stunning eyes. You’ve never seen someone with ruby red irises before. And the longer you look into them, the more you feel like you’re falling. Usually having red eyes would be a cause for concern, but for him… they’re beautiful, ethereal, even. He gives you a once over before looking back at your helmet. When his piercing gaze returns to you, his eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Yuki onna. As I live and breathe.”

Wait, he remembers you? He crouches down and examines your leg. He unzips his jacket and pulls a switchblade from an inner pocket. You shift, trying to create distance and he raises his hands, the blade balanced between two fingers.

“Just wanted to see how bad it is. May I?”

You stare at him for a moment. You don’t have many options at the moment, so you nod, letting him proceed with opening the knife and cutting away the stained fabric from your ankle to your knee.

“Are you cold?”

Your eyes snap to his and you open your mouth to respond, but the sound of your teeth chattering shuts you up. You shake your head. He shifts, letting one of his knees drop to the ground to sit back on his heels. His expression laced with doubt, or at least you think it is from what you could see of his face.

“I’m just in shock. It makes you shake, I’m fine.”

He tilts his head, his brows knitting together.

“You a doctor?”

You nod and his brows unfurl to rise.

“Okay then, tell me what to do. Should I –”

“Don’t call an ambulance! I can’t… I can’t go to the hospital.”

He clears his throat, his eyes narrowing.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that. I have someone I can take you to, but I don’t want to make this worse before we get there.”

You push your shoulders back and suck your bottom lip into your mouth in an attempt to stop it from trembling.

“Oh…”

He points at your leg with his blade.

“So, tell me what to do doc.”

You rest your head against the tree and close your eyes, exhaling slowly.

“Okay, umm, is it an open wound?”

He shifts, leaves crunching under his weight.

“Yes.”

“Is it still bleeding?”

“It is.”

“Great… okay, I need you to cut the rest of that fabric away. Then make another cut to it, to make a long strip, you need to tie it around my thigh to slow the bleeding.”

The sounds of a knife cutting through fabric fill the space around you. His steady breathing, muffled by his helmet, is strangely comforting. You flinch when you feel his hand against your thigh. His steady hands pause for a moment, waiting for your permission to continue. You open your eyes, blinking back tears, and nod. He gently lifts your leg to pull the fabric underneath, lifting the strands on both sides.

“You need to make it tight.”

“How’s this?”

He ties the makeshift tourniquet securely and you groan, the fabric squeezing you to the point of discomfort.

“Perfect.”

“Do you have any other injuries?”

You rotate your shoulders and shake your head. He retrieves your helmet and carefully places it on your head. You’d usually protest, your hands are fine, but your adrenaline is wearing off. He secures the strap and leans down to look at you directly.

“Can I pick you up?”

Your stomach flips and you’re almost afraid you’ll vomit again. Swallowing hard, you nod again. He wraps an arm around your waist and tucks the other under your knees, lifting you off the ground with ease. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and let your head rest against his shoulder. He carries you out of the ravine to the road where his massive Harley is parked next to your poor Katana. He carefully sits you down and props your feet up on the foot pegs.

“One sec.”

He walks over to your bike, pulling it off the ground and dragging it to the bushes. As he walks back, he fishes his phone from his pocket, presses a button and tucks it back into his pocket. He swings his leg over and sits in front of you.

“Luke, I have a bike I need you to pick up and deliver to the shop. Ping my location. And bring Kieran to clean up. Make sure he checks the ravine. Call me when it’s done.”

He lifts the kickstand with his heel and walks the bike backwards a few steps. He shoves the key into the ignition and the engine roars to life. His hand pats his side and you lean forward slightly, holding onto his waist lightly. You can hear his soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

“You know better than that Yuki.”

The bike lurches forward as he takes off and you squeal at the sudden jolt. You’re forced to lean forward and wrap your arms around him. His firmness grounds you, the way his abs tense when he leans taking a turn becomes damn near hypnotizing. You close your eyes and focus on following his lead.

“Hey, I need you at the clinic. Injured biker. Maybe a broken leg? Yeah, be there in 5.”

“You never said who you were taking me to.”

He lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

You wait for him to continue, but he remains silent.

“Well?”

“Don’t worry Yuki, he’s a good doctor.”

You scoff and squeeze your arms together making Ryūō laugh harder. You don’t have to live in suspense for too long, he pulls into the parking lot for a small apartment building after a few minutes. He parks his bike and dismounts, he gently lifts your bad leg and brings it over the seat. He takes off your helmet before leaning forward, expecting you to wrap your arms around him again. You roll your eyes, but comply. He picks you up and carries you into the building and straight to the elevator.

The inside of the building is opulent, with gold sconces and chandeliers, and art pieces look more expensive than your entire apartment. Looking over his shoulder, you realize the glass doors and windows are one-way glass. This doctor must value his privacy.

You watch the numbers above the elevator doors rise, pointedly avoiding the heat of Ryūō’s gaze. Which you can feel burning into the side of your face. The elevator finally stops at the top floor and you're carried into the penthouse. A comfortable living space, large kitchen, sliding doors leading to a balcony - nothing special. And then you’re brought to a room that makes you nearly swallow your tongue.

The dimly lit room is a fully stocked operating room. Machines lined neatly against the wall, cabinets you assume are full of supplies, an industrial refrigerator sits in the corner humming softly. You’re carried through another door into what looks like a recovery room. A soft bed, a vitals monitor, an ensuite bathroom, shelves stocked with surgical gloves, blankets and rolls of gauze. Ryūō sets you down on the bed and props your leg up.

“The bed I –”

“We have replacement sheets and mattresses, don’t worry.”

You shut your mouth and finally let your body relax. Every muscle screaming, every nerve completely shot. You close your eyes and hear Ryūō walk to the door and open it, stepping through to talk with someone on the other side. You lift your head and stare at the door - like staring at it will help you hear them better. A familiar muffled tone reaches your ears and you sit up, your hands braced behind you.

“She was nearly at the finish line too. I don’t know why no one else stopped, her bike was right on the side of the road.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you did or she may have bled out. She’s in recovery?”

There’s no way.

The door opens and Ryūō walks in, but the man behind him makes you want to scream.

“Zayne?!”

Zayne’s shoulders tense as he looks up at you. His eyes widen and his body becomes rigid. But just as quickly as the panic settles, it vanishes and he stalks over to the bed. His expression alone made you wish you had bled out on the side of the road.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Angry Zayne usually amused you, but being on the receiving end was not so fun. You glare at him and cock your head to the side.

“I could ask you the same question.”

His brows furrowed and he steps back, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. Ryūō approaches and leans against the wall next to your bed. His eyes lit up with curiosity.

“You two know each other?”

Zayne looks over at him and sighs. He puts his glasses back on and turns to face you again.

“Sylus, this is my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

Ryūō, or rather Sylus as Zayne referred to him, undoes the straps of his helmet. With his real name used, he doesn’t see a need for it anymore. As soon as he pulls it off, you wish he hadn’t. His eyes were stunning, but now seeing them with the rest of his face… You almost forgot about the pain in your leg. The sharp line of his jaw, his prominent nose, his heart-shaped lips set in a smirk - he’s devastating. He removes his beanie and runs a hand through his hair, the same silvery white as your own. He looks too young for it to be natural, but then again, so do you.

Sylus raises a brow and you realize you’ve been caught staring. You return your focus to Zayne.

“Zayne, what are you doing?”

He shifts uncomfortably, but then he catches sight of your leg and his anger melts into concern.

“Questions later.”

He motions for Sylus.

“We need to get her into the OR.”

“Zayne, you’re not going to perform surgery on me in an apartment, are you?!”

Sylus picks you up and you yelp. He smiles down at you and looks to be thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment. He walks back into the makeshift operating room and sets you down on the raised bed. Zayne washes his hands at the sink in the corner and puts on a fresh pair of gloves. He begins to examine your leg, completely ignoring your influx of questions.

“The skin is broken, but it’s just a cut, not a compound. Zayne, talk to me.”

Zayne puts pressure on either side of the wound and a trickle of blood oozes from the wound, dripping down your leg. You gasp and Zayne looks at you over his glasses. Typical.

“Zayne, seriously, you’re not –”

“Wouldn’t be the first surgery I’ve performed here.” He interrupts. “I won’t operate if I don’t have to, but I need to know how serious this is.”

You groan, wincing with every poke and prod.

“She needs an x-ray.”

Sylus is picking you up again before you can even comment. There’s no way they have an x-ray machine here, impossible. Sylus seemingly reads your mind.

“We have an MRI too. Impressive, right?”

He carries you into a room with a whole ass x-ray machine, the wall nearby lined with aprons. Sylus places you on the table and moves to let Zayne work. He drapes an apron over your stomach and hips, carefully straightens your leg, moves the detector under your leg and the collimator overhead.

“You know the drill.”

You cross your arms and look at the wall in the opposite direction. Zayne’s footsteps, joined by Sylus’s, exit the room and after a few minutes you hear the machine turn on. You force yourself to stay still and try your best to calm your racing mind. Zayne is the head of the Cardiothoracic department, why is he working as an underground doctor on the side?

“Turn to the right, if you can.”

Zayne’s voice echoes from a speaker somewhere in the dark room. You carefully rotate and let your leg rest on its side. Another brief moment of silence before the machine whirs. The machine shuts off and he and Sylus re-enter the room to collect you. Once you’re in the “operating room” again, Zayne leaves to get the x-ray results and Sylus goes into the recovery room and closes the door partially. You’re left alone with your thoughts for a moment and it takes all your willpower not to spiral.

“Is it done?”

Sylus’s muffled voice grabs your attention and you look up to see him in the partially opened doorway. You silently pray he doesn’t look over, because you’re absolutely staring now. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it in front of him as he talks on the phone, your mouth starts watering. Jesus, you really need to get laid or something, this is embarrassing.

His bare torso is like a canvas at an art gallery with all the ornate tattoos etched into his smooth skin. His arms were covered in what looked like traditional Yakuza tattoos, but they were somehow… softer. The lines are delicate, faded, merging to create something beautiful. The arm you could see has traditional Japanese waves and bright red maple leaves. When he turns, the lines of something almost geometric etched along his back, like wings, come into view. As he slides a t-shirt over his head, you spot the body of a dragon weaving down his side and over his stomach, disappearing at his waistband. You have a single moment to get your shit together before he re-enters the room and approaches you. You keep your eyes locked on your hands, picking at your fingernails.

“So, what should I call you?”

You force yourself to look up at him, putting on your best poker face before you give yourself away. But before you can speak, you see another tattoo and your brain shuts down. His sweater and helmet covered most of his neck, so now you can see it clearly, especially with how close he is to you. Down the center of his neck a traditional katana striking through the mouth of the lower half of an Oni mask. The mask is a gorgeous scarlet, surrounded by matching spider lilies.

“Like what you see?”

Shit.

You clear your throat and meet his eyes.

“Just admiring the tattoo… It’s nice.”

He smiles and dips his head to level with you.

“Just call me Yuki.”

Sylus opens his mouth to respond, but Zayne cuts him off.

“You’re extremely lucky.”

He holds the film up to the light and points to the hairline fracture along your tibia. You let out a relieved sigh. Zayne sets the film down and pulls his chair over to the table before carefully laying out a suturing kit.

“I still need to suture this and I recommend using crutches, but knowing you, a boot will suffice.”

He turns to wash his hands, slowly rolling up his sleeves. If you had a dollar for every time you’re rendered speechless tonight, you’d have enough to buy multiple overpriced coffees at the hospital coffee cart.

“Zayne?! What the fuck?”

Zayne dries his hands and wrists before grabbing a pair of gloves. He returns to the table and opens a new syringe to prepare the local anesthetic. Your eyes are locked on his wrists and forearms, you’re barely able to form a sentence.

“When… when did you… wha…”

Zayne looks at you, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He injects the anesthetic and begins to clean the surrounding skin.

“When did you get tattoos?”

He chuckles under his breath and sits back in his chair, looking down at his nearly blacked out forearms. Patterns of icicles and snowflakes stand out against the dark ink. The tattoos continue up to his elbows and, you assume, beyond. But his hands are completely bare and the starting line is perfectly lined up with the ends of his sleeves. How many other tattoos does he have hidden?

“A few years ago.”

You reach out to hit him, but he rolls his chair backwards to grab more gauze.

“Did you have them when I got my first one?”

He hesitates before rolling back over. He refuses to meet your eyes and you grab the pillow behind you, launching it straight for his head.

“And you let mom and dad lecture me about tattoos being ‘inappropriate for the workplace’ especially ‘within the medical community’ - and you said NOTHING!”

Sylus laughs, clearly enjoying the argument.

“No one knows. I don’t show them to anyone.”

“I know.”

Sylus’s shit-eating grin almost makes you forget yourself.

“Of course you know. You were there when I got them.”

Your eyes widen and you look between the two men.

“Wait, how long have you two known each other?!”

Zayne gently taps the skin around the wound and you shake your head. He begins threading the needle and conveniently ignores your question to focus. Sylus, on the other hand, is more than happy to give context.

“About six years ago now, right doc? A little incident helped our paths cross. Since then we’ve been associates, maybe even friends.”

Zayne glares at Sylus over his glasses.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Sylus gasps dramatically.

“Oh, I’m hurt, I thought we had something, doc.”

Zayne shakes his head and begins suturing the wound closed. His steady hands threading the skin and carefully pulling it closed. While you know it’s numb, you still wince at the sensation of something lightly pricking at your skin. Zayne keeps his focus on your leg as Sylus crosses his arms to watch him work.

“Tattoos, a clinic on the border to the N109 Zone, an illegal one at that. Who are you?”

Zayne’s jaw twitches, his movements remain slow and steady. He finishes a perfect line of sutures and looks up.

“I’m not the only one with secrets. You’re a racer? Illegal bike racing? If you get caught you can kiss your residency at Akso goodbye, and your career for that matter.”

You rub your hands down your face and shrug.

“Guess we both have alter egos then.”

He scoffs and stands to grab a roll of gauze. He bends your knee and places your foot flat on the bed and does one final clean before wrapping your leg.

“What were you thinking… you could have died.”

Zayne’s voice is clipped, but you can feel his concern. Your chest aches and you dig your nails into your thighs, none of this should be happening to begin with. With your adrenaline level and your wound addressed, the metaphorical fog clears and you remember what’s at stake.

“No no no no… fuck… I’m fucked…”

Zayne stops wrapping your leg to hold onto your knee, attempting to steady you. Your body shakes violently.

“Is she in shock again?”

Sylus hurries to your side and looks to Zayne for answers. Zayne presses the back of his hand to your forehead and reaches up to hold your face in his hands.

“Hey, hey, breathe, what’s going on?”

The time for shame was long gone, your career was hanging by a thread and now your life might be as well. Sylus leans on the bed and looks down at you, his stoic expression softened with concern.

“I… I owe someone.”

Sylus and Zayne share a look. You flop back onto the bed and cover your eyes with your arm.

“I started racing a few years ago. I was doing so well in amateur races that I got invited to the professional, high stakes ones.”

“The buy-in for those races… how did you afford that?”

Zayne was all too familiar with the financial struggle of residency. He not only lived through it, but started the Residency Relief program at Akso to help struggling residents.

“I did… really well in the amateur scene.”

“You gambled.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, glaring at Zayne as he tapes over the gauze.

“And I made enough money to pay off my student loans and cover the downpayment for my apartment. The rest I invested in my bike and it paid off.”

“So what went wrong?”

You lock eyes with Sylus, his finger rhythmically tapping his cheek as he listens.

“There was a competition and I… I made a bad investment. I didn’t even place. When I found out who I really made the deal with… it was too late, I’ve been trying to pay him back.”

“How much?”

Zayne removes his glasses and crosses his arms. God, he looks like dad when he does that - it’s terrifying.

“I bet $250k…”

Zayne’s mouth drops open and Sylus chuckles.

“And let me guess, the bastard slapped a loser's fee and interest on top.”

You side-eye Sylus, of course, he would know the ins and outs of racing bets.

“The total came out to a little over $600k.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Zayne collapses back in his chair as Sylus whistles.

“How much have you paid back?”

You cover your face, you never thought shame or embarrassment could kill, but here you are, barely hanging on.

“He doesn’t do payment plans.”

“Who?”

Sylus’s voice is rough, darker than before. You drop your hands and look up at him. He doesn’t look away, his eyes burn straight through you. You barely know who Sylus is outside of who he presents himself to be as Ryūō. He rests his knuckles on the bed and leans forward, his nose almost brushing yours.

“Who?”

You clear your throat and try to maintain eye contact.

“Volkova.”

Sylus smiles. A sinister, venomous smile that sends a chill down your spine.

“I had nearly $500k saved and today’s race was supposed to be the last one. I was so careful, planning everything, I’d only have to make one double or nothing bet and I’d have enough to pay off Volkova and get caught up on bills. Maybe even have a little extra to chuck for savings. It was a track I’ve done before, turnout was lower than predicted, I was so goddamn close.”

“And then you crashed.”

You can’t stop the tears from spilling over. Sylus stands and crosses the room to look out the window. Zayne stands and rounds the bed to sit beside you. His arm wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you into a hug.

“I lost everything… I can’t pay… He’s going to…”

“He’s not going to do anything, I’ll write a check.”

You push against his chest so you can look him in the eye.

“No, you can’t. He’ll see your name and… he’ll come after you. Writing a check for that much, for me?”

“You’re worried he’ll extort me? I can give you cash.”

“He’s tracking my bank statements, he’ll see a massive cash out and realize I lost a bet. And then if I suddenly pay him in full he’ll be suspicious, he’ll find out, I know he will.”

“Did he give you a deadline? Maybe we can stagger the deposits?”

Your chest caves as you fall forward, Zayne catches you and holds you close.

“It’s… in a week. I’m… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… god…”

Sylus’s voice startles you, the timbre of his voice making you shiver.

“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you exactly what will happen if you fail to pay?”

You peek over Zayne’s shoulder at him. He sways gently, his hands tucked in his pockets. His strong features bathed in moonlight. When you don’t respond, he continues.

“He’ll probably use you. If he knows you’re a doctor, he’ll probably make you his private, personal and permanent physician. Forcing you to be available to him at any given moment.”

You shiver at the thought of being dragged into some dark warehouse to dig bullet fragments out of wounds or ordering you to steal medicine from Akso.

“I have a solution for you.”

Both you and Zayne sit up and look over at Sylus, who finally turns to face you.

“Marry me.”

“What?!” You and Zayne shout in unison.

Sylus laughs, he rubs the back of his neck as he walks over to the side of the bed. You expect his expression to change, to make it clear his offer was a joke, but his jaw is set, brows relaxed - he’s serious? He places a hand behind you and leans down.

“We’d both benefit.”

Zayne stands and yanks Sylus back. He meets his gaze as an unnatural chill settles between them. You look over Zayne’s arms, the dark ink doesn’t hide the veins of ice forming, they spread down his wrists and over his hands. You see Sylus eyeing the crystals of ice forming on his sleeve where Zayne holds onto him.

“Doc, I assure you, it’s a business arrangement, not a plot to get into your sister’s pants.”

Zayne’s eye twitches as snowflakes start to subtly fall around the men. You shift to the side of the bed and try to stand up, indoor flurries are never a good sign, he’s about to snap. When your feet hit the floor, you stumble, your legs are weaker than you expected.

“Shit!”

The sensation of falling only lasts a moment before you are weightless, streams of black and red circle around you keeping you upright. The threads pick you up effortlessly and sit you back on the bed. Zayne rushes to your side and holds onto your shoulders, forcing you to sit back as he guides your leg back up on the bed. Sylus remains stationary, but you feel his eyes on you.

“What was that?”

“It’s his evol, are you okay? What were you doing?”

You shove Zayne back.

“Stopping you from making him into a popsicle!”

Zayne glares at you, he tucks his hands under his arms to hide the frost, even though he knows you’ve already seen it.

“Don’t tell me you’re considering it?”

“I don’t think I’m in any state to consider anything!”

Zayne’s expression softens, he knows you’re right. He hasn’t even addressed your blood loss or potential road rash across your back. He uncrosses his arms and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gently holding your face for a moment.

“You’re right. I’m going to get an IV from the kitchen, we’ll talk about all of this once you’ve rested.”

Your brows knit together and you open your mouth, but Zayne already knows your question.

“Don’t ask. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves and you make a mental note to ask about the kitchen IVs later. You sense Sylus' approach, and you slowly look over to him.

“I’m serious, by the way. Think it over. I’ll be in touch.”

He turns to leave and you reach out to grab onto his arm. His muscles twitch and he stares at your hand before dragging his eyes up to meet yours.

“My… my bike?”

Sylus places his hand over yours. His warmth spreads through your fingers, up your arm and straight to your head. Your cheeks flush as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“It’s been delivered to the shop. And the crash site has been cleaned. No blood, or vomit, left behind.”

You pull your hand back, god, you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Sylus’ raspy laugh doesn’t help things, your head spins just from his touch, and he wants to marry you? For business, of course, but… no, you can’t really be considering this? Right?

“Talk to you soon, Yuki.”

You’re dissociating again. Everything feels far away, sounds, smells, even your vision - it’s like you’re looking through a tube. Your nerves are so fried when a hand touches your shoulder you jump.

“Oh, sorry! Your eggs are burning hun.”

Yvonne’s soothing voice slowly draws you back to this plane of existence. Looking down you see your eggs are sticking to the pan in dark clumps. You jab at them with a spatula and it dawns on you, you didn’t put butter down first. You pick up the pan and carry it to the sink, dropping it into the empty side with a loud clatter. You turn on the water and a huge plume of smoke billows upwards as the cool water hits the hot pan. You cough, swinging your hand wildly.

“Shit…”

Yvonne rushes to the balcony door and slides it open before grabbing the newspaper off the kitchen table to fan the smoke outside. Ollie, your rambunctious Maine Coon, rushes out the door and jumps up on the railing.

“Ollie! No!”

You abandon the smoking pan to run after him, he’s too clumsy to sit on the railing like that. You approach him with your hands on your hips and he dips his head. He’s the perfect mix of black and white, his green eyes blinking slowly as he tries to guilt trip you into letting him stay. Not today. You pick him up and he stretches his front legs around your neck, his hugs will always soothe your soul.

“Come on ya big baby. You can be outside if you use your tower, not the railing.”

You plop him down on the top level of his cat tower and hurry back inside. Greyson is at the sink addressing the mess you made. He looks over his shoulder and gives you his best attempt at a scowl.

“What is up with you lately? You didn’t even turn off the stove!”

“I’m sorry… I’ve just… Not being at work has been messing with my head.”

Zayne convinced, or rather forced, you to take at least 3 days off to let the swelling in your leg go down before returning to work. No one questioned his approval for your time off and Greyson and Yvonne have been hesitant to ask what really happened to your leg. Your story about falling down the stairs at the gym was… less than convincing.

“Well you get to go back tomorrow, yeah?”

You nod and sit down at the kitchen table. Yvonne places a bowl of cereal in front of you and you give her an apologetic smile. She runs her hand through your hair and looks over at Greyson.

“How about we bring home dinner tonight? We can play jeopardy, Greyson, you still have the board from last time, right?”

He nods, carrying the pan to the garbage can to scrape the burnt egg into the trash.

“Yeah, I’ve written up some new prompts too.”

Greyson prides himself on the jeopardy game he created to help residents study for the boards. Even Zayne was impressed with the level of detail.

“Okay then! We’ll see you tonight. Call me if you need anything, promise?”

You smile up at Yvonne, she’s been your best friend since the very first day of your residency. This soft spoken, tiny woman was a powerhouse when she needed to be. She had worked at Akso as a nurse for about 3 years before taking an extended leave to attend medical school. She’d earned her place in the residency program before she even graduated. Greyson, an attending, had started dating Yvonne when she was still a nurse. They’ve been together ever since. Moving in with them was an… interesting decision, but you’ve never once regretted it.

“Shit, we’re gonna be late.”

Greyson rushes out of the kitchen and into his and Yvonne’s shared bedroom. Yvonne giggles and pats your shoulder.

“With how he drives, there’s no shot we’re late.”

You laugh while she follows him into the bedroom to finish getting ready. Ollie jumps up on the table and lays down in front of your bowl. He might have been the runt of his liter, but when he stretches he’s still extremely long, almost the width of the table. He gives you the saddest look and you know what he’s asking for. You finish your cereal and dip your finger in the milk, extending it to him so he can lick it off. His little chirp of satisfaction brings a smile to your face.

Greyson and Yvonne leave a few minutes later and you’re on your own. During your time off, you’ve tried studying or reviewing old case notes, but your current predicament was too distracting. How are you supposed to focus on your boards when your life hangs in the balance?

Ring Ring

Your cell phone chimes and your stomach drops when you see the caller ID. The only unknown caller you’re used to getting calls from is Volkova. And he called yesterday… Did he find out about the accident? Does he know you lost all the money you’d saved?

“Hello?”

“Good morning Yuki, how’ve you been?”

A voice deeper and rougher than Volkova’s flows through the phone. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment as you search for the right words. You hadn’t expected to hear from Sylus so soon.

“I’m… umm… I’ve been better.”

“I assume you’ve heard from Volkova?”

You grunt as you stand from the table to shuffle over to the couch. You flop down and cover your eyes with your hand.

“I – oof!”

“What happened?”

You start to laugh as you look down at Ollie who jumped up on your chest. He crouches down and tucks his front paws under, the ultimate loaf. You rub his ears and his motor starts, you’re sure even Sylus can hear him purring.

“It’s nothing, just my cat. Wasn’t ready for his chunky butt to land on my chest!”

Sylus chuckles, he sounds almost… relieved?

“But yes, I’ve heard from Volkova.”

“Four days, right?”

Goosebumps spread over your body. The threat Volkova made is still fresh in your mind.

“Yes, and according to him, I won’t like what happens if I don’t have the money.”

Sylus pauses. A tear drips down your cheek and you close your eyes to slow the flow.

“Have you considered my offer?”

You let out a shaky breath and hold onto Ollie, the steady rumble of his purring grounds you.

“I don’t get it, how does marrying you fix anything? I mean, I assume you have some kind of power if you think Volkova wouldn’t fuck with me if I’m with you. But then – I mean, what’s in it for you? I’m just a doctor! Not even an official doctor, I’m a resident. I don’t understand how –”

“Woah, slow down there sweetie. I can only answer one question at a time.”

His sudden switch up in nicknames renders you speechless. You close your mouth and wait for him to start filling in the blanks.

“You assume I have some kind of power?”

“Yes.”

“How familiar are you with the N109 Zone?”

“Not very, I mostly just know the city layout thanks to races.”

Sylus laughs, the sound is infectious. It’s a carefree laugh, you’re a tad envious.

“What do you know about Onychinus?”

“The gang?”

“I prefer ‘criminal organization’.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the only sound that escapes is a squeak. Ollie’s ears twitch and his eyes open half-way, he stares at your mouth as if waiting for a mouse to crawl out. You lift your hand to rake through your hair.

“Surprised?”

You nod, realizing a few seconds later that he, in fact, cannot see you.

“Ye-yeah. You… you’re…?”

“The N109 Zone has been relatively peaceful under my control, but now Volkova has weaseled his way into the racing scene. And apparently, is taking advantage of young women who’ve clearly never made high-stakes bets before.”

“Hey!”

“So you were aware he would charge you an outrageous losers fee and stack unrealistic interest rates?”

You can’t argue with him there. If you had known, you never would have made the bet.

“Volkova’s been in the game long enough to know a novice when he sees one. And you’re not the only one he’s doing this to. He’s crossing lines and staking a claim. In my territory. And that… just can’t happen.”

“So marriage…?”

“Marrying me puts you under my protection. You won’t be paying him a penny and unless he has a death wish, he won’t come after you. He needs to learn his place. And you need time to rebuild after the accident.”

“Rebuild?”

“I can offer you protection and stability while you get back on your feet, both physically and financially.”

“And I’m just supposed to be a pawn in your game with Volkova?”

“You’re already a pawn, I’m offering you a chance to become the queen. Protecting you from him is just one way you’ll be helping me regain control of the Zone.”

“What else do you expect from me then?”

“You’re a doctor, with a completely clean record. I have legal businesses who want to work with Onychinous but won’t sign a contract with my name on it. They’re worried it might ruin their reputation. You, however, can present yourself as an up-and-coming surgeon who wants to make the N109 Zone a ‘better place’ - they’ll sign in a heartbeat.”

“And no one will question why this completely clean ‘up-and-coming surgeon’ married the notorious leader of a ‘criminal organization’?”

“Of course they will, but if they know what’s good for them they’ll keep their mouths shut. And if you’re worried about your hospital friends, my public persona in circles where my real identity is a mystery, I’m just the owner of a successful Winery.”

“A Winery?”

“Who lives at his vineyard in the N109 Zone.”

Ollie’s automatic feeder turns on and the sound of his food trickling into the bowl wakes him up. He leaps onto the coffee table and sprints for the kitchen. You stand up and limp out onto the balcony. His plan is solid, his offer makes sense… no matter how many times you review it in your mind, you can’t find a reason to turn it down.

“Still with me?”

“Yeah, yeah… I just… I don’t want it to seem like… ugh…”

“It’s not about the money. I’m not buying you and you’re not a gold digger. We’re partners in this, business partners.”

The tension in your shoulders fade, the knot in your stomach uncoils, and you can finally take a deep breath for the first time in weeks. You’ve always been independent, determined to take care of yourself with zero help from anyone. Sylus wasn’t offering to fix it for you, you’d be helping each other. You’d never even considered getting married, your career was more important. But this was a business deal, logical, realistic, beneficial for multiple parties. It wouldn’t intrude on your career plan.

“Okay. Let’s do it. On one condition.”

“And what is that Yuki?”

“We revisit this arrangement yearly. If it’s no longer beneficial for both of us, we part ways. I’ll sign a prenup or whatever else you want if you agree that we’re not going to take advantage of each other.”

“Deal.”

You stare at your hands.

“So what now?”

“Give me a day to make arrangements. We won’t do anything ostentatious, it’ll draw too many wandering eyes. But we’ll want Volkova to hear about it and see us together, just so the message is clear. I’ll call you tonight. I suggest talking to your family, whatever story you come up with I’ll play along.”

“Okay, yeah…”

“Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up and you stare at your phone. When you decided to get into racing you never thought you’d end up here. You know would-ofs and could-ofs are pointless, but your whole life is about to change. You pull up Zayne’s number. Your parents have become more easy-going in their old age, they won’t like the idea of a shotgun wedding, but you doubt they’ll cut you off because of it. You’re their baby girl, they’ve always been a little softer with you. Zayne, on the other hand…

“Hello?”

“Hey Zayne!”

“Are you okay? Did your stitches rip?”

“No no, I’m okay. I need to talk to you. Could you come over for lunch?”

Zayne is silent for a while. You’re tempted to repeat the question, but he clears his throat.

“I can. I’ll put Greyson on call for me.”

“Okay, yeah! Umm… I’ll make some…”

You stand up and waddle into the kitchen, which still smells like burnt eggs.

“Actually, I’ll order something. Does noon work?”

He hums in agreement. Before you can say another word you hear the tell-tale sound of his pager. He gives you a hasty goodbye and hangs up, probably running down the hall to the OR by now. The possibility of Zayne being angry with you turns your stomach. He’s the most important person in your life, you can’t lose him.

Meow!

Ollie strolls into the kitchen and rubs against your boot. You stumble as you shift your leg away, he clearly doesn’t care that you’re unsteady because he just turns to rub your other leg. You bend over and pick him up, his legs wrap around your neck and you shove your face into his fur.

“Don’t worry buddy, you’re still my baby boy. Nothing will change that.”

He purrs and rubs his face into your hair. At least you’ll always have Ollie.

You’ve just set down the last box of takeout when your doorbell rings again. You shuffle over to the door and peek through the peephole. Zayne stands on the other side with a small box in his hands, his hair wet from the rain that started just moments ago. You swing open the door and invite him in.

“It was just sunny out 15 minutes ago! Where did this storm come from?”

Zayne sets the box on the entry table and shrugs his coat off, hanging it on the hook by the door. You pick up the box and lift up a corner. You see two cupcakes, decorated with a thick layer of chocolate frosting. Zayne smacks your hand away and takes the box back.

“The Italian bakery across the street from Akso added new items to their menu.”

He walks past you and sets the box down amongst the takeout boxes. You follow him and push a container towards him.

“Well, I got onigiri, udon and curry rice from Katei ryōri, they opened up a new location closer to us so Greyson and Yvonne have been ordering a ton. I had coupons for free nama donuts cause they’ve been ordering so much. So you can pick and choose, whatever you want, totally up to you and –”

“You’re rambling.”

Zayne sits down and opens the udon to put in a bowl. You sit across from him and pick at your fingernails. He watches you as he makes himself a plate of curry rice.

“I assume you wanted to talk to me about the Volkova situation?”

You nod.

“So, you’re accepting my help, yes?”

You shake your head. He sets the container of rice down, takes off his glasses and tucks them in his breast pocket. He links his fingers together and rests his arms on the table, leaning forward to stare at you.

“Zayne…”

“Please tell me you’re not considering Sylus’s offer.”

You bite your lip and dig your nails into your palms.

“I already agreed to it.”

Zayne’s face goes from stern to shocked to angry in rapid succession. He pushes his chair back and stands. He walks toward the door and takes his coat off the hook. You quickly stand and run - well more like quickly walk - to stop him. You grab his coat and hold it tight against you.

“Zayne please…”

“You’ve already made up your mind. I’m not sure why you couldn’t have told me this over the phone.”

His tone is eerily calm.

“Because you would have hung up on me and avoided me for weeks. I know you think this is a bad idea, but…”

“It is a bad idea.”

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else since the accident. I’ve tried to figure out a way to deal with this and Sylus’s offer makes the most sense.”

“How can you possibly think that? You don’t even know who he is!”

“I do! He told me. And this arrangement is beneficial for both of us, it’s like a business deal! It’s the most logical –”

“A business deal? You’re marrying him. You’re making vows. How can you think this is the best option? I’m right here, offering you a way out and you’re trusting him over your own brother?”

He reaches for his coat, but you hold tight. He rubs the bridge of his nose and retrieves his glasses, sliding them on before grabbing the door handle. He only opens the door a crack before you step in front of him and press your back against it, slamming it shut.

“Zayne please! I… I need to do this. You don’t have to like it, but I’m begging you, please, please don’t walk away.”

Zayne’s image becomes blurry as your eyes fill with tears. Your big brother has always been there for you, if he walks away now you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. He turns and walks into your living room, sitting in the armchair by the window. Ollie jumps up on his lap and he doesn’t even try to push him away.

“What will mom and dad think?”

You sit down across from him and quickly swipe a tear away as it falls.

“I’ve already talked to them.”

Zayne looks up with wide eyes. Ollie chirps as if he’s responding in kind.

“I told them I met someone and I didn’t mention being in a relationship because I didn’t think it would last given the pressure of residency. That he proposed and we don’t want to waste time or money on a big wedding. Mom’s surprised but happy and dad’s just glad he doesn’t have to pay for anything.”

“And what do they think he does?”

“Sylus told me he has a persona that owns a Winery. That his vineyard is in the N109 Zone and he’s very private.”

“And what are you going to tell mom when she asks about grandkids?”

“She’s always known I put my career first. That won’t change.”

“So you’re just going to marry him and what? Live a lie?”

And with that, your last shred of self-control disappears.

“You can’t say shit about living a lie! You have secrets that I still can’t wrap my head around! Tattoos? A secret clinic or, actually, a whole ass secret hospital that you use to treat racers and whoever else Sylus might bring to you! You can’t be serious, Zayne!”

Zayne looks down at Ollie on his lap. His nimble fingers stroke the center of his forehead, making Ollie’s eyes close.

“Sylus helped me a few years ago. I wouldn’t be a doctor if he hadn’t stepped in. I doubt I’d be alive. And you’re right, I do have secrets. I never wanted you to get too close because you have your whole career ahead of you. But now…”

He finally looks up at you, his anger long gone, replaced with fear. You’ve never seen him look afraid. He was always your brave big brother. Helping you manage your shared evol, teaching you how to use it to keep bullies away when you entered high school, protecting you from Wanderers or creeps on the street. But now, he’s afraid, and you don’t know why.

“Now you’re facing something equally as dangerous and I… I don’t want you to throw away your future.”

You lean forward and take his hand, ignoring Ollie’s disgruntled growls as Zayne stops petting him.

“I’m not. I’m making sure I still have one and that I’m the one in control of it.”

“And you think Sylus can give you that?”

“I do.”

Zayne sighs. When he looks up at you again, his fear has been locked away.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea, but… I will support you. Just don’t come running to me when you realize what a pain in the ass Sylus is!”

You giggle and stand to wrap and arm around him. His stiff posture relaxes and he pats your shoulder.

“Let’s eat, I have a left ventricular remodeling in an hour.”

When Sylus informed you the wedding would be on Saturday - literally 2 days away - you may have panicked just a bit. And by a bit, you may have spiraled while on the phone with him and he had to talk you through some breathing exercises.

“We’re scheduled with Judge Bishop for noon. We’ll get the vows and paperwork out of the way and then around 5 the reception will start.”

“The reception?”

“Since we’re doing a private ceremony, a public reception is the best way to get the news out. It’ll also be a chance for you to celebrate with your friends and family - I don’t want our arrangement to drive a wedge in your relationships.”

You lay back on your bed and pull your blanket up to your chin. Ollie chirps at the sudden change in his sleeping arrangement. He quickly readjusts, curling into a ball against your back.

“Okay, vows at noon, reception at 5.”

“Tell you what, how about we meet for dinner on Friday night. We can go over the details in person. I have a few more things to finalize anyway.”

“Uhh dinner? Wh-where?”

Sylus is quiet for a moment.

“I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll go wherever you like.”

Work was unbearably slow - which is objectively a good thing in the medical field - but you’re miserable. Ever since you told Greyson and Yvonne about the wedding, they’ve been distant, even at work. When Yvonne finally stopped giving you the silent treatment, she nearly cried arguing with you over why you kept your “relationship” a secret from her. While she forgave you, you know she’ll be hesitant to trust you for a while.

Friday afternoon held the same pattern, the ER was slow, your appointments were postponed thanks to your leg and Yvonne and Greyson avoided you for the most part. Thankfully they sat with you at lunch to discuss the reception happening the following evening. And by the time your shift was over, Yvonne was hugging you and squealing about being invited to the vow exchange. She would be your maid of honor if you’d done things the traditional way, so she deserved to be there.

While you thought ahead and brought a dress to change into, you were almost tempted to just wear your scrubs. Why were you trying to dress nicely for him? He wasn’t marrying you for your looks - it shouldn’t matter. Right? Against your better judgement, you peel off your scrubs and carefully pull on a pair of thick black tights, adding a pair of leg warmers to protect your bandages from your walking boot. The black oversized sweater dress you toss over your head is one of the few dresses you own that you actually wear. Your phone buzzes on the bench next to you and you nearly drop your lipstick.

Sylus 𝘐’𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?

Me 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥.

You stuff your scrubs in your backpack and pull on your denim jacket. The walk to the front entrance from the locker room wasn’t far, but you hoped you wouldn’t run into anyone who cared enough to ask why you were so “dressed up.”

The gust of cold air that hits you when you open the door makes your eyes water. Winter is fast approaching and you’ve barely had time to enjoy it. You even missed the first snow of the season thanks to an MCI that kept you in the operating room nearly 12 hours past the end of your shift. But it’s fitting, you getting married during the winter.

When you don’t see Sylus’s bike in the parking lot you stare at your phone, your finger hovering over the call button. Before you get a chance, he calls you.

“I’m not on my bike.”

“Oh, wait why?”

“I didn’t think you’d be too comfortable on a bike with that boot on your leg. I’m pulling up now.”

The call disconnects and you look up to see a blacked out Escalade pull up to the curb. The driver's door opens and you see the top of his head over the roof of the car, his hair nearly glowing under the fluorescent lights lining the entrance. He rounds the car and approaches the passenger side, opening the door for you. As you approach you notice there’s something different about him, and then you catch it, the sparkle of steel.

His ears are lined with various studs and small hoops, an industrial bar crossing the top of his left ear. A small septum hoop hangs above his lip, which holds two piercings of their own. Two silver studs sit on the outer edges of his lower lip. He raises a brow, bringing your attention to the piercing there as well. You can feel your mouth run dry.

“Is there something on my face?”

You roll your eyes to match his teasing tone.

“I just didn’t realize you had piercings…”

“I take them out when I’m racing, more comfortable. Now, after you…”

He motions towards the car and extends his hand for you. Accepting his help, you step up to the car. He places a hand on your waist and guides you onto the seat, bending to lift your bad leg into the car. He closes your door and returns to the driver’s side. Ignoring your pounding heart, you buckle yourself in.

“So where would you like to go?”

Sylus turns on the heat and you feel your legs warm. Heated seats? In a custom Escalade? Jesus. Suggesting a cheap burger feels out of the question.

“Uhh… well I don’t know what you like.”

“I’m not picky.”

“Well, maybe…”

You’ve only been to a handful of fancy restaurants in Linkon. And always as a result of a work related event: an employee appreciation dinner, the first year residency celebration and a Christmas banquet. Only one name comes to you and you pray you can remember what you ordered.

“The Linkon Grille?”

Sylus nods and pulls away from the hospital entrance. As he drives, you take this opportunity to examine him out of the corner of your eye. Sleek black suit pants, a red dress shirt with the collar open to showcase a stack of silver necklaces and his signature leather jacket. You’ve always wanted to ask why he wore a jacket with, what looks like, red and white lightning strikes when it didn’t quite match his alias.

“Is the lightning intentional?”

You’ve always wanted to ask, you had no intention of ACTUALLY asking, oh god. Sylus smiles.

“Not really. I liked how it looked, so I bought it.”

Might as well keep the conversation going.

“You wear it when racing, does it… relate to Ryūō somehow?”

“No. My helmet has Ryūō artwork, my jacket is just a jacket.”

“Oh…”

Okay, no more attempts at small talk, you suck at it. Thankfully, you arrive at the restaurant before you have to explain your silence. The valet approaches and Sylus hops out to open your door. He helps you out and hands the keys to the young man.

“Shit… I’m not sure if this place requires reservations…”

“How many times have you been here?”

You stare at the ground as you walk. Sylus laughs, but doesn’t stop. He opens the door for you and rests his hand on your lower back to guide you inside.

The interior was outrageously ornate - dark wood, armchairs instead of dining chairs, waiters wearing gloves carrying boxes of cigars to each table. You’re out of your depth here.

Sylus approaches the hostess and you don’t miss how she gives you both a once over and scowls before speaking.

“Hello! Do you have a reservation?”

You stare at your feet to hide your embarrassment.

“It’ll be under Ony.”

You look up at him to find him smiling from ear to ear. The hostess pauses for a moment before looking at her book. Her expression changes to sheer terror a moment later and her entire demeanor changes.

“Oh, Mr. Sylus! I apologize, I didn’t recognize you! Would you like your regular table?”

“That’s fine. Shall we?”

He extends his arm and you hook your hand around it. You follow the hostess to a private table at the back of the restaurant. Sylus helps you out of your coat and pulls your chair out for you. He hands your coats to the hostess who apologizes once again before rushing through a nearby door. A minute later a man in a three piece suit arrives with a bottle of wine.

“Mr. Sylus, I do apologize for Regina. Please accept this Pinot, free of charge.”

Sylus takes the bottle and traces his finger over the label. He smirks and hands the bottle to the man with a nod. He opens the bottle and pours two glasses.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order and I’ll make sure Osvaldo prepares it personally.”

He sets down the bottle and bows before taking his leave. Sylus chuckles and you realize you’re completely zoned out, just staring at the bottle of wine.

“Maybe I should have mentioned I am an investor at this location.”

You pick up your glass and down the wine in one go, grabbing the bottle for a refill without hesitation. Sylus picks up his glass, twirling the stem between his fingers before taking a sip.

“I’ve been here once. I have no idea what to order and oh my god, this wine is expensive!”

You look at the label and recognize the brand. Just one bottle would set you back two months rent. You set the bottle down and push your glass away. Sylus leans forward and fills your glass himself.

“Please, indulge.”

“I can’t… I can’t afford this.”

“Sweetie… When you’re with me, you’ll pay for nothing. That’s part of our business arrangement.”

“Since when?”

“Right now. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re a caviar and oyster girl.”

You wince, your last experience with oysters had not ended well. You shake your head.

“How about I order for you? If you don’t like it, I’ll order something new until you find something you like.”

Your cheeks warm, surely it’s just the alcohol. You nod.

“Benji, we’re ready.”

You look around, wondering who he is talking to and gasp when you turn around and see the man who brought the wine appear out of thin air. Sylus swirls the wine in his glass and keeps his eyes locked on you while he orders.

“We’ll both have the lamb chops over lobster mash with honey glazed carrots. And tell Osvaldo to make some fresh espresso, we’ll be having tiramisu for dessert.”

The man nods and rushes away. Just the thought of tiramisu makes your mouth water. You pick up your glass and take a small sip, taking a moment to savor it this time.

“So… tomorrow…”

Sylus smiles, he’s clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Yes, tomorrow. Paperwork at noon, reception at 5. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask?”

“Yes… a ton actually… uh…”

“We have all night, sweetie. Take your time.”

You forgo your tiny sips and down the rest of your second glass. You reach for the bottle to refill while considering which question you want to ask first.

“The reception, where will it be held?”

“I own a club along the border to the zone.”

“A club?”

“Paradise.”

“You own Paradise?!”

“Is it really that shocking?”

“No, I just… I’ve heard about it from my colleagues and it’s… impressive.”

“I take it you’ve never been?”

You take another sip of wine, your body slowly relaxing as the buzz from the alcohol settles in.

“I don’t really go to clubs, or parties for that matter. My weekends are for sleeping and studying.”

“You and Zayne are very similar then.”

“Aha… yeah, now you’ll say I copied my big brother in becoming a doctor, right?”

Sylus frowns, he taps his wine glass.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

You clear your throat and stare at your wine glass, wondering if you’ll be officially drunk if you chug this third glass.

“Is that what most people say? That you copied your brother?”

You nod and place your glass on the table, forcing yourself to make eye contact with your future husband.

“I skipped the same grades, went to the same medical school, was offered the same residency at Akso, where he works. I mean, we even have the same evol. It’s like I’m a carbon copy.”

“I disagree. You don’t look like him, that’s one difference.”

“I used to, when I was a kid. People thought we were twins.”

“Is that why you changed your hair?”

You tuck a strand of your ivory locks behind your ear, subconsciously twirling the end over and over.

“I… didn’t…”

His brows drew together and you chuckled.

“I have pernicious anemia. Basically, my body doesn’t produce the protein needed to absorb B12. Usually, the lack of B12 would cause hair loss, but in some rare cases it can cause premature graying. My hair started turning white when I was 10, but I had been dealing with symptoms for a year before that. I missed a lot of school because I couldn’t stay awake and I’d faint from dizzy spells. I was in the hospital for almost a month between figuring out what was wrong with me and then trying to get stabilized enough to go home. My hair has been white ever since.”

Sylus nods, his expression turning somber.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay! I mean, that time in the hospital is what made me want to become a doctor. My parents are both doctors, so I spent a lot of time in hospitals anyway, but as a patient I got to see the other side. I was like a puzzle. Watching everyone trying to figure it out was fascinating.”

“Are you okay now?”

“Oh yeah, I take vitamins and get B12 shots when I need to. It’s completely manageable. Just a horror show when you’re a kid, you know?”

He nods, but he doesn’t look up from his glass. You spot Benji rounding the corner and start to clap, making Sylus jump. He smiles as he watches you bounce in your seat as the food arrives. You almost whine when he pulls the wine bottle to his side of the table to keep you from grabbing it.

The tender lamb sits on a bed of lobster mashed potatoes, the honey glazed carrots perched on top with a healthy sprinkle of decorative herbs. The lamb is perfectly cooked, falling off the bone to swim in the savory potatoes. You can barely contain yourself, sighing loudly as you devour your meal.

“Oh… I like carrots!”

“That’s… great.”

Sylus sits back to watch you as you lift a carrot on your fork to look at it.

“Zayne doesn’t like them, I do, that’s another difference!”

He smiles, finally understanding your outburst.

“So I explained my hair, what about yours?”

Sylus runs a hand through his hair. He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist.

“What about it sweetie?”

“Why is it silver? And white? Silvery white. You’re too young for it to be natural.”

“My job is pretty stressful, it could be.”

You shake your head and squint at him.

“No, no. I can tell.”

“Well, I don’t know, if I’m honest. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember.”

“What about your parents? Will they be there tomorrow?”

Sylus’s smile falters and he looks down at his plate, lining the carrots up in a row with his fork.

“My parents are… gone. It’ll just be me and the twins tomorrow.”

“Twins! Oh… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… uhh… wh-who are the twins?”

His gaze softens and he lifts a finger. You look over his shoulder to see Benji rush into the kitchen.

“Luke and Kieran. They work for me. They’ve become… like family, in a sense.”

“I look forward to meeting them.”

Benji reappears and sets two plates of tiramisu on the table.

“I can make a to-go box if you like ma’am?”

“Oh that would be lovely, thank you!”

He takes your plate and Sylus’s and disappears through the door once again. You reach for the plate closest to you, but Sylus pulls it away. You look up to glare at him.

“I thought we could practice for the cake cutting ceremony.”

“Oh! Uhm… okay… wait, there’s gonna be cake?”

“Of course. Chocolate with white icing and red roses. I thought it best to keep it classic. Unless you want something different?”

“That… that sounds beautiful. I… I honestly never thought about what kind of cake I would want. I never thought I’d get married.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Just… never thought about it. My career has always been my focus.”

Sylus places a plate between you and holds out a knife.

“Well, I hope you enjoy what I have planned for tomorrow regardless.”

You reach out and wrap your hand around his. You both guide the knife through the soft layers. You let go and pick up a dessert fork, watching him pick up a forkful first. You scoop up a bite and lean forward. Sylus moves the plate out of the way and extends his arm towards you. You carefully take the fork into your mouth while feeding Sylus his serving. The bitter espresso soaked ladyfingers melt on your tongue, the sweet cream so fluffy you could barely keep your eyes open.

Then you feel the fork in your hand move slightly. You finally break eye contact and look at his mouth, the corner tilting up into a smirk. You can feel his tongue circle the utensil, making sure every ounce of the delicious dessert is consumed. Your heart pounds in your chest and you lean back until the fork slips out of your mouth. He does the same and you stare at him for a moment, unsure what to say or do.

“You’ve got a little…”

He leans forward again and brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth. You freeze, almost afraid he’ll feel how hot your skin is, or how your entire body is pulsing with your heart beat. He pulls his hand back to reveal a bit of cream on his thumb. You open your mouth to thank him, but you’re rendered speechless as he sticks his thumb in his mouth to suck the cream off.

“I think that went well, we just have to do it in front of a crowd tomorrow.”

You sit in silence, staring at his mouth. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch the silver studs rotate slowly. He’s definitely aware you’re staring and doesn’t seem to give a fuck. He releases his lip and extends his hand to gently take hold of your chin. He tilts your head up until you meet his eyes.

“You think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself out of your drunken, horny haze to reply.

“Yeah… yes. For sure.”

“I think you may have had too much to drink.”

You try to shake your head, but his fingers holding your chin keep you still.

“How about I get us a room? I don’t think I should drive.”

Your bleary eyes clear slightly and you sit back, pulling your chin from his grasp.

“You barely drank!”

“I have a relatively low tolerance. Buzzed-driving is still drunk-driving, you know.”

Benji approaches the table with your to-go box and gives Sylus a pat on the shoulder.

“Osvaldo is thrilled you ordered the tiramisu, he sends his thanks. Is there anything else I can do for you two tonight?”

“Yes, can you prepare my usual room and –”

Before Sylus can finish you wave your hands, attracting both Benji and Sylus’s attention.

“I… we are not… I’m not getting a room with you, I don’t… we shouldn’t…”

Sylus looks at Benji with a knowing smile.

“If you could replace the twins beds with a queen, I doubt she’d be very comfortable on a single.”

Your eyes widen as you slowly realize your mistake. You sit back in your chair and fold the napkin on your lap into a tiny square. You hear Benji’s footsteps fade and Sylus clear his throat.

“Sweetie? Did you not realize this restaurant is part of a hotel?”

You shake your head without looking up.

“I have a suite on stand by with a separate room for the twins when we stay here. I wasn’t going to force you to sleep with me.”

You quickly look up at him, embarrassed and unsure.

“No, I didn’t think… I… I’m not a prude I just…”

“I don’t expect anything from you. And I will never force anything on you. I want that to be perfectly clear. You never need to worry about that when you’re with me.”

Your throat stings as you try to keep yourself from crying. Damn, you’re emotional when you’re drunk. You grab your glass and down the rest of your wine, wincing at it burns the back of your throat. Sylus' smile returns.

“What about tomorrow?”

Sylus stands and extends a hand to you. After a moment of consideration, you take it. He helps you stand and places a hand at your waist to steady you. He walks slowly, making sure you don’t trip over your boot.

“I’ll wake you up with plenty of time to get ready. Don’t worry.”

He ushers you into the elevator and presses the penthouse button, of course it’s the penthouse. You roll your eyes and a wave of dizziness hits you. Sylus leans back against the wall and you lean with him, your back resting against his chest.

“I had your leftovers sent to the minibar, if you wake up and want a midnight snack. There’s also spare clothes in the wardrobe if you’d like to sleep in something more comfortable. Just call the front desk if you need anything else.”

You look over your shoulder at him and melt under his heated gaze. You find yourself staring at his lips again. Would it be uncomfortable to kiss with those piercings? Or would it feel… thrilling? The ideal mix of hot and cold with his tongue in your mouth and the cold steel on your lip. You rest your head back on his chest and sigh, you just want a taste… one… little… taste…

Ding

The elevator reaches its destination and silently swear, you had almost worked up the courage to close the distance. Sylus takes a step forward, forcing you through the door into the large penthouse entryway.

He guides you through the suite, pointing out the kitchen, the living room, the laundry closet and the door to the balcony. He stops in front of a set of doors and slides them open to reveal a small hallway. He points to the room on the right.

“That’s my room, if you need anything just knock.”

He opens the door on the left to reveal your room for the night. Sure enough, a queen bed was delivered and made up with a luxurious comforter and nearly a dozen pillows. He leads you inside and opens the door to the bathroom, a clawfoot tub catches your attention. If it wasn’t for this damn boot and stitches, you’d soak in that tub for an hour.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He lets go of your hand and waist and you instantly miss his warmth. You watch him leave, disappearing behind the door to his room across from yours. You hurry across the room to close the door and lock it. You’re flinging your sweater dress over your head onto a nearby chair and kicking your shoes off, using only a tiny bit more caution with your injured leg. Your tights follow and then your underwear.

You lay back on the bed and shiver as the silky blankets cool your bare skin. You pull the blanket to the side and slide under, propping your feet up to keep your legs spread. Your body moves on instinct, your mind is too fuzzy and filled with the filthiest images, you need to release the tension, now.

Your fingers slide down your naked body, pausing over your chest to roll your perky nipples between your fingers. One hand slides further, dipping between your folds and spreading yourself open. You shiver at the thought of Sylus’s fingers replacing yours. Those long fingers tracing your clit and sliding into your pussy with ease. You close your eyes as your fingers start to work your clit with urgency. His thumb wiping that cream off of your mouth, fuck, you wish you had grabbed his wrist and pulled him to you. To watch him stare at you with those hungry crimson eyes as you close your lips around his thumb and suck. You lift your other hand to your face and stick your thumb in your mouth, imagining it’s Sylus’s.

Your fingers dip into your throbbing pussy, which almost immediately sucks them in deeper. You pump in and out, rubbing against your clit with the palm of your hand. A strangled whimper escapes your throat as your tongue circles around your thumb. You’re so close, and you’ve only been at it for a minute. You imagine his lip rings brushing against your nipples as he kisses down your chest. Does he have piercings anywhere else? What if he does, what would they feel like? You bite your thumb as you come undone.

You lay there, sweating and sticky, letting your mind wander. You haven’t been attracted to someone for a long time. You’ve never let yourself get into a serious relationship. One night stands in college? A fuck buddy in medical school? Sure. But a relationship? Someone you see and talk to everyday? And yet, here you are, getting off to the guy you’re going to marry after knowing him for a week. What are you getting yourself into?

You went to sleep later than you intended, you wanted to wash your bedding - no way you’re letting the hotel staff find your mess and it somehow gets back to Sylus. You also took the time to shower and wash your hair. You were planning on doing a full body shower at home to prepare for the wedding, but the bathroom here had everything you needed.

When you finally fell asleep your dreams were full of Sylus. He wore a fitted tuxedo, his hair slicked back, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You saw yourself in the mirror, a gorgeous white wedding dress, lace, tulle, the works. He handed you the flowers and adjusted your veil, twirling his fingers through your curls. Black and red roses lined the aisle of the church. Rubies hung from the ceiling, shimmering in the sunlight to cast intricate patterns on the walls. His voice calls out your name and the world stops spinning, it’s just the two of you. He holds your waist and you press yourself against him.

A series of knocks at your door bring you back to reality. You quickly get out of bed and wrap a plush white robe around you. Hobbling over to the door, you unlock it and open it a crack. To your surprise, it’s not Sylus.

“Hello Miss. I’m Veronica. Mr. Sylus wanted me to deliver these dresses. Tanya is here with your breakfast as well.”

You look over your shoulder at the clock on the wall, 7 am, you have plenty of time to go to your apartment and get the outfit you originally planned to wear. But you’re curious, what did Sylus get for you? You open the door and let the women in. Veronica wheels in a clothing rack, setting up in the corner next to the bathroom. She unzips each garment bag and pulls the dress out so you can see it fully. You sit on the bed and stare at the spectacle unraveling before you. The dresses, a small table unfolded and covered in plates of food. Tanya smiles at you every chance she gets and you try your best to return the pleasantries.

“I brought you a variety, you can pick and choose. Quiche, french toast, crepes, a fruit platter, coffee, juice - if there’s anything else you want, please just call the front desk. I’ll bring it right away!”

Tanya gives you one last smile, her eyes full of tears. She hurries out of the room and closes the door. Veronica laughs.

“Sorry about Tanya, she’s always wanted Sylus to get married, she treats him like a son. She’s a little emotional today.”

She picks up a bag off the bottom of the rack and pulls out a large makeup bag and curling iron.

You glance over at the makeshift vanity she’s setting up and quickly put down your glass of juice. You rush over to her before she can unload any more equipment.

“Wait, wait… Sylus, he… uhm…?”

Veronica places her delicate hands on your shoulders.

“Sylus hired me to help you get ready. He told me you might not want any help, but to offer it just in case. If you already have a dress, I can send someone to pick it up. Or you can choose one of these. They should all match the measurements I was given.”

You look over at the dresses then back at Veronica.

“Wait, how’d you get my measurements?”

Veronica smiles, her eyes sparkling.

“Sylus has a knack for that kind of thing.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and look around the room, trying to balance on your good leg. Veronica continues setting up her station and gives you space to think. You glance over at the clothing rack and decide looking can’t hurt. Up close, the dresses are divine - silk, chiffon, organza, lace, anything you can imagine.

“Feel free to try them on. Sylus asked for long dresses, but I can pin them up if they’re too long.”

You smile to yourself. Long dresses to hide the boot. He really thought of everything it seems.

You look through the dresses and find one that you love. While you can’t imagine yourself wearing it you decide to try it on. You take the dress into the bathroom and slip your panties on. Suddenly very thankful you decided to wash your intimates after the bedding was finished. You carefully drape the dress over your head and try to zip it up. When you’re finally done criticizing your short arms you open the bathroom door to seek Veronica’s help.

“Hey Veronica, do you think you could –”

You stop short when you realize Sylus is sitting at the breakfast table Tanya set up. His eyes light up when he looks at the dress you’re wearing and the butterflies in your stomach swirl once again. Veronica comes up behind you and zips your dress closed and ties a bow to secure the halter neck. She holds your arm and leads you to the full length mirror, which is right next to the breakfast table.

“You were right, this one does look spectacular on her.”

Veronica steps aside and you finally see your reflection. You’ve spent years laughing at those bridal shows and rolling your eyes at brides who cry over their weddings, but now you feel a little guilty for the mockery.

The soft white silk feels heavenly against your skin, the halter neckline is flattering to both your chest and shoulders. You turn to look at the back and smile as you spot your tattoo framed within the open back design. The dress is the perfect length, hovering off the floor so you don’t trip, but long enough to cover your unsightly boot. It’s not fancy or frilly, it’s no ball gown, but it makes you feel like a bride, even if it is just for a courthouse wedding.

“Do you like it?”

You run your hands down the front of the dress and sway, watching the mermaid base swish around your ankles. Sylus steps up behind you, his clothes from the previous night slightly wrinkled. You look at him through the mirror and he smiles, his eyes dropping to your back. You feel the ends of the bow shift away from your skin.

“It’s beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks flush and when you check in the mirror, sure enough, your cheeks are nice and rosy. You clear your throat and put your hands on your hips, feeling the fabric stretch over your curves.

“It’s a snow leopard, right?”

You nod, your smile widening.

“Yeah! It took me years to find the right hyperrealism artist and then I was hung up on what color blue I wanted for the background. Three six hour sessions later, I have my spirit animal with me forever.”

“Your spirit animal?”

You cross your arms and glare at him.

“Do I not give off vicious snow leopard vibes?”

He laughs, that same carefree laugh that makes your heart skip. He steps closer to you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders.

“I’m not sure yet. What I do know is you look like an angel right now.”

You scoff, your bedhead and bare face could hardly be considered angelic. His hands squeeze your shoulders.

“I mean it. You look incredible.”

Your eyes stay locked on him as he circles around you. He stands before you, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands.

“This might be a business arrangement, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel like a bride on your wedding day. And you’re certainly…”

He lifts one of your hands to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“... the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

You let out the most outrageous giggle, your hands instantly moving to cover your face in embarrassment. Sylus grabs your hands and stops you, so you quickly change the subject.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day?”

He rubs his thumbs over your fingers, slowing down when he reaches your ring finger.

“Well, we’re hardly doing things the traditional way. But… I will leave if you want me to.”

He lets go of your hands and you reach out for him, grabbing his wrist.

“No… stay.”

Now it’s his turn to blush, his ears turn the lightest shade of pink and you silently celebrate not being the only one flustered in this encounter. He sits down at the breakfast table and puts a quiche on his plate.

“You should try on the reception dresses I picked out, so V can make alterations this afternoon.”

You look over at Sylus and then to Veronica, who casually walks out the door into the hallway.

“Reception dress?”

Veronica rolls another clothing rack inside and starts unzipping the garment bags. Compared to your wedding dress, these are… bold. Red velvet, purple lace, black silk. Long skirts, once again, to hide your boot, but a variety of necklines and cut-outs. Your wedding dress was intended to be classy and subtle, these… These are sexy.

“Sylus… I… these are…”

“All going to look incredible on you.”

You stare at him for a moment. Is this your life now? Designer dresses, penthouse suites, making grand appearances at his club while holding onto his arm? Not that you’re complaining, but compared to the life you expected… you're…

“Overwhelmed?”

Sylus’s voice cuts through the noise. His eyes shine as if they’re burrowing into your soul and you don’t look away.

“My world is complicated, sometimes messy. I’m sure being a doctor is like that as well.”

You nod, your fingers mindlessly tracing the lace pattern on the dress in front of you.

“What do you do when you’re overwhelmed in the operating room?”

“I… imagine I’m floating. On a cloud, just… blue sky, sunshine, a soft cloud under my feet. Everything is quiet, clear… peaceful. I just float.”

“Okay, then for today, let’s float together. No expectations, no danger, just… float.”

You turn back to the dresses in front of you and take a breath. You look at the dress you’ve been holding, a red velvet off-the-shoulder number with a black lace corset and lace gloves. If you’re going to step into this new world, you might as well step into it looking fucking hot.

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Also, for funsies, this is what Sylus looks like in this fic. (The one on the right I made in Canva it's rough lol)