Enslaving the King

Lord Hayden returned to his penthouse, working at his clumped hair with quick swipes of his fingers. The locks tangled, agitating his attempts to tame it. Sweat lingered on his brow and face, gathered tacky and uncomfortable beneath the stretch of his mask. He paced to the kitchen, poured out a scotch and took a single sip. Moving to his large master bedroom, he kicked off his shoes, ripped the layers off his body- there seemed fewer than usual, he thought with a chuckle - tossed them in the corner. Less to deal with. He finished his drink and wound up in the bathroom in preparation for a nighttime shower to wind down. He’d had an...interesting night. Or so he thought. Everything was confusing at the moment. It could’ve been the alcohol buzzing in his system, but... Hadn’t he gotten laid? Hayden unclipped his mask, barely letting himself think of the grotesque sight beneath, the one he saw almost every night, save for those nights when he just couldn’t face it. The mask pulled - no, peeled - away, exposing his flushed face to the air. It was something of a relief. He sat it by the sink and ran the back of his hand over his features, knuckles coming away damp with his sweat. Something caught his attention. He leaned in to observe himself better. His body was littered with varying amounts of bite marks, scratches, bruises. Yep. He’d definitely got laid. However, that wasn’t what had drawn his eyes. The stupid handprint - soulmark - thing on his face...glowed. Or what was left of it. Most of the mark had been obliterated by the same force that’d delivered the scar, but he could see that the remaining fingerprints were radiating a soft holographic blue. Hayden narrowed his eyes, glaring at it. He poked it a few times with his finger. It seemed to tingle in response. Great, now his face looked even more screwed up. Like some novice face sculptor had tried their damnedest to do something cool but had epically failed. Or something. If he were being honest, Lord Hayden had never really believed in soulmarks. He might’ve a long time ago - not that he even remembered that well - long before that belief had been destroyed by falling in love for the first time and no signs of life in the mark. Or the second time. Or third time. He knew the soulmark was pure bullshit. Or broken. No, both. Broken bullshit. For it to come alive now… He was already in his mid-forties for god’s sake! Who the frick could’ve even touched his face like this and not gone out the airlock? No one would’ve dared lay a hand on him. It was odd in retrospect that his first idea was to call Blake. “Yes, sir?” Came the man’s usual bored-but-polite tone. “Did I- erp-” Hayden burped, “ugh- airlock... anyone today?” “Sir?” “Did I sen’ anyone...outta airlock, it’s na- that hard a question, half-wit.” “No, sir, there’s no records of such.” “Or otherwise...kill someone?” “Surprisingly, the answer is still no, sir. It was in fact, a slow day. However, I cannot account for your off hours. Also, it is four in the morning. what is this about-?” “A’ight.” Hayden hung up, concentrating harder. He called Nisha. “You wereeen’t at Heelios today...by any chance...were ya?” He launched without preamble. “Heh, you drunk? Sound it.” “Seriously, were ya?” “Nah, but I can pop up there real quick if you’re lonely.” “N’ don’ worry ‘bout it. I...ueup- think my stamina was used up by...someone else. Not even sure who .” He chuckled, but it might’ve been more strained than usual. Nisha didn’t notice. “Haha, sounds like my kinda night. A shame, though. Pandora can get quite lonely. Well. Have fun with the hangover, old man!” She said with glee and hung up. “ You’re old,” Hayden said into the silent Echo line before refocusing. It wouldn’t have made sense for it to be her. The soulmarks were supposed to come alive at first touch. Nisha had already touched his face multiple times. And yes, they had fun sometimes, and she was one of the few people he could trust somewhat - at least enough to know she was the last person to put a knife in his back, a trait that was very hard to come by on Helios - but Hayden couldn’t honestly say he was in love with her. And he knew she definitely didn’t love him. Nisha didn’t love. It just wasn’t in her nature. s*x, yes. Love, no. That settled it. The soulmark was broken. Just as Hayden had always assumed. Big surprise there. He rolled his eyes and made for that shower he’d nearly forgotten about. Raine awakened that morning, but regretted it quickly. It felt like a knife had been thrusted into his skull. He squeezed his eyes together tighter and groaned. “ Ugggh ...my head.....” “Here,” said a voice. His roommate, Yvette, he realized. She grabbed Raine’s arm, tugging. “ Up .” Raine followed the tug, sitting up, head swimming. He groaned again, forcing his eyes open. His eyes saw Yvette’s hands first. In them were a glass of water and a pill. “Raine? What happened to you last night? You look like skag vomit!” He squinted at her sharp, somewhat-concerned features. She would deny that concern if he poked at it. It was tempting, but he had too much of a headache right now. “I…dunnno,” Raine replied, burying his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. “God, I feel like s**t. What happened… ?” She responded matter-of-factly. “You came home half-naked and drunk as hell with bruises and bitemarks all over your body.” Her voice became a bit more playful. “Have a fun night at Aries ?” Raine glanced down his torso, spotting a few of the said marks. It occurred to him he was quite sore down there . Someone had done a number on his ass. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were bruises on it, too. “So it would seem…” Aries was the fancy club where he danced - and sometimes sang - on the weekends for extra money. Still baffled, Raine checked his Echo Eye. There were no messages or even new contacts to indicate who he might have hooked up with. Hell, there wasn’t any extra funds in his account to indicate he’d taken an impromptu job, something he didn’t see himself doing. It was too unsafe. He always had clients go through the proper channels. It was just better for everyone that way. “I...uh, don’t...remember last night.” He finally accepted the pill and water, downing both. “I don’t understand,” he went on, looking her in the eye. “I’m...not supposed to mess around on the job, and I’ve never broken that rule before. Nothing like this has ever happened!" He scrubbed his face, which felt clammy to the touch. Surely he hadn’t been drugged. He was certain he wouldn’t have made it home if that were the case. “Did I say anything? When I got home? About what might’ve happened?” “Nothing coherent. You were singing about being the luckiest man alive, though. I barely managed to get you to bed. You kept trying to collapse on the floor.” “Oh... Well, thanks.” “What would you do without me?” She said, deadpan. “Just don’t make a habit of this. It’s bad enough all these late nights...you barging in, waking me up. I have to be up early most days, you know. I didn’t become your roommate for this.” “Nope. You became my roommate because it was cheap.” He laughed. “And I’ll try to be quieter in the future.” He gripped her shoulder in a friendly way. “But seriously, I appreciate it, dude. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower and a good teeth brushing.” “Yes, you do. Don’t let me hold you up.” Yvette left. Raine managed to find the strength to crawl out of bed and drag himself towards the shower. The pill was helping, but it hadn’t reached full strength yet. Once locked in the bathroom, he stripped off the last bit of clothing he still had on: a baggy white button up shirt he didn’t recognize (but it smelled good, like cologne and gunpowder), a single stocking, and his Hyperion boxers. He’d stolen someone’s shirt. Probably a man’s.  Damn it, this was getting unfair. He caught his reflection in the mirror. His mouth fell open. Yes, he looked like crap, but good grief did he have a lot of marks on him. f*****g damn it. Who did this? Annoyance flooded him. He didn’t usually let any partner mark him up to this extent. There was a dried stain on his stomach that was almost definitely c*m. He must’ve been out of control last night. His breathing tightened and his d**k twitched, as if his subconscious remembered something he didn’t. He swore under his breath. Who would he have lost control like this for? He took a breath and turned to observe the extent of the damage done to his ass. He froze. “Oh...oh no…” The soulmark. It was glowing . The shape of a rather large handprint across his ass, was glowing a deep gold. “Oh… No...no, no, no…” Now everything made sense. All in a twisted, unfair way. It was said that the first meeting of the soulmate submersed the mind in a drunk-like state of euphoria. It was said that it could drive a person to act in ways unprecedented. Wild stories prevailed. It was better than drugs, they said. It was wild and unimaginable and amazing- Yeah. But Raine hadn’t known it would be like this . That it would hit him so hard he wouldn’t remember it afterward. He’d never heard of that before! This couldn’t be happening! He’d met his soulmate and he had no clue who they were!? No names or numbers! How could this person do this to him?! They’d surely known! Why hadn’t they at least woken up together, cuddling, gently carding fingers in each other’s hair as they discussed a more sober round two. Whyyy?! He dropped his fist on the sink, the objects there rattling. s**t. He kept feeling how unfair this was. He tried...tried to remember, tried his damnedest. Anything. Even the memory of a kiss. Nothing came to him. Raine picked up the shirt he’d ditched and inhaled its scent, trying not to feel like he’d lost his only chance to have his soulmate. His soulmate’s aroma hung heavy in his nostrils, and he wanted to curl up and just breathe it in for awhile. But first, his hygiene, he reminded himself, laying the shirt down nearby with more care this time. The first thing Raine tried was to get access to the Aries cameras from the night before. After a fair bit of hassle and having to bribe a manager with a few hundred dollars (had to be worth it, right?) he succeeded at obtaining the footage. He watched it...but it’d been crowded that night, and he lost himself after exiting the stage. No matter how he relooped the footage or looked at multiple angles, he never could find himself again. Or his secret soulmate. There were too many bodies. He had no idea what had happened. Maybe he hadn’t even bumped into them until he was on his way home? Despondently, he gave up on that idea and lamented his waste of money. The following days and weeks, he tried to hope his soulmate would reappear. He kept the shirt close. When he wasn’t at home, he locked it in his safe. When he was home, he breathed its scent often, slept with it at night. He often had dreams that were erotic in nature, but he could never recall the face of the person within them. Just a soft glowing blue handprint was all he remembered, the rest of their features shrouded in darkness. Yeah. Weird. It took a few weeks for Raine to finally accept that it wasn’t going to happen. His soulmate wasn’t going to reappear. They were long gone. Nobody messaged him. Nobody contacted him. Nobody materialized at random with flowers and a dopey grin to sheepishly explain themselves. For all he knew, his soulmate wasn’t even on the station any longer. Nothing could be done about it now… Still. It wasn’t fair.