Soulmated

by Sara Summers

  Smoothing out my messy hair, I lifted my eyes just long enough to see the ground through a window at my right. The plane was launching toward the massive buildings fast enough that I was sure we wouldn’t survive it.

  I grabbed Logan’s arm and covered my eyes, biting my cheek to hold back a scream.

  My fingernails digging into his skin again woke him up, and he held me closer as he opened his eyes.

  “We’re fine.” He promised me.

  I didn’t say anything until after we landed and the plane stopped moving, but I think my trembling body told him plenty.

  “I never want to fly in an airplane again.” I muttered as we stood and he grabbed his duffel bag.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Logan grinned.

  We were some of the firsts off the plane, thank goodness for that. I couldn’t get out of that thing fast enough.

  Logan took his hat and wore it low over his eyes to hide as much of his face as he could, but it was pretty useless. As soon as we were walking out of the airport, there were people with cameras blocking our way.

  “Who’s your mystery girl?” someone called out, sticking a microphone toward us.

  Logan ignored them, using his hand on the small of my back to lead me through the crowd while he kept the people away with his other arm.

  We didn’t have to go far, only to a long, sleek-looking black car stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. I didn’t have to have lived in the human world to know it was a limo.

  He opened the door and I slipped inside, taking a seat after I scooted over to make enough space for my soulmate.

  A middle-aged woman sitting across from us lifted her eyes from her phone. There was no way not to notice how beautiful she was. She had smooth, flawless skin and medium-length dark hair that was so perfectly curled she almost looked like a piece of artwork rather than a living, breathing human being.

  She gave us a small smile but the expression didn’t meet her eyes. It was clear where Logan got his eye color from, though. Her bright green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, were exactly the same color as his.

  “I’m Laren Lush. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand, and I reached across the limo to shake it.

  “I’m Emma.” I forced a smile of my own. After hearing her call shifters trash, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to meet her either.

  “You have appointments all day until you take pictures at five. The party starts at seven.” She explained, going right to business. Her attention was turned to her son, of course, since I was just someone from the dump to her. “Here’s the official story about how you met, when you started dating, and your proposal. Memorize the details, you’ll need to answer any questions with this information.”

  My eyes skimmed over the paper.

  “You want us to say we’ve been dating in secret for the past two years?” I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you think people will realize that we hardly know anything about each other?”

  “My son is a very good actor.” Her perfectly red lips pressed together in a firm line.

  “Emma’s right. We’re not as comfortable around each other as a couple whose been together two years. We can’t sell this.” He tried to hand the paper back to his mom. Instead of taking it, she picked a large tablet up off of the seat beside her. She tapped on the screen a few times and then handed it to Logan.

  “Does this look like a couple who just barely met?” her glare felt like it was piercing into my skin. I looked down at the pictures and my eyes widened when I saw what Logan and I looked like.

  His arm around me at the airport while I sat with my legs crossed. Him putting his hat and glasses on me to protect me. The way we leaned into each other on our seats on the plane.

  I wasn’t sure what relationships were like for humans who had just barely met, but I assumed it wasn’t like that. Human relationships weren’t permanent, but Logan and I… well, there was no way for us to get away from each other. He would always know where to find me and I would always be his.

  He would always be mine too, I guess.

  “Alright, maybe we already sold it.” Logan admitted. He handed the tablet back to his mom and took my hand.

  “You want me to say I grew up in a tiny town in Idaho? I don’t even know where that is or what it looks like.” I frowned and looked to Logan, who looked to his mom. “What if someone asks me if I’m a shifter?”

  “Small towns are all the same, Emma, and it’s clear you were raised in one.” I looked down at my t-shirt self-consciously. “If someone asks you if you’re a shifter, you’ll simply laugh. I have a feeling no one would believe you if you tried to lie about it anyway. Laugh, and they’ll take it to mean no even if you’re laughing because it’s true.”

  “I’m proud of what I am and where I came from. I don’t want to pretend I’m not a shifter or that Logan and I aren’t soulmates.” I let go of his hand and folded my arms.

  “That’s why we’re telling the public that you eloped, dear. It’s the closest thing we have to soulmates.” Laren leaned forward, her long, silver nails sparkling in what little sunlight came through the tinted limo windows.

  “If you tell anyone that you’re a shifter, our entire family will be ruined. Decades of hard work down the drain. You have to choose whether you’ll destroy Logan’s life or go along with the story and play the part.” She gestured to the script.

  The more she talked, the worse I felt for even suggesting I tell the truth about what I was.

  “Mom.” Logan protested.

  “Someone needs to be honest with her.” Laren leaned back in her seat and straightened the sparkly necklace that rested against the neckline of her fitted black top.

  We stopped in front of a fancy salon a few moments after she finished speaking.

  “It’s 5:30 in the morning, mom. The salon isn’t open.” Logan reminded her.

  “That’s why we’re here right now.” His mom gestured to the door. “Marcel is inside. He won’t tell anyone about the unfortunate marking on her neck. Go on, Emma. Logan and I have things to discuss.”

  “Um,” I looked to Logan for help. He nodded and gave me a small smile.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He promised, squeezing my hand.

  “Okay.” I stepped out of the limo and swallowed, looking up and down the streets that were somehow still busy despite it being early in the morning.

  I yawned.

  “Go inside the salon, Emma. The door is unlocked.” My soulmate’s mother chided me.

  Biting my lip, I took a quick step toward the door. I’d gotten in the limo feeling confident and sure of both Logan and my decision to go with him to New York. When I left it, I felt small and insecure, like I was more of an inconvenience than anything.

  “Hello?” I said, after I stepped inside the clean glass doors which were nicer than any door I’d ever seen in the cage. Looking around the salon, I wasn’t quite sure what to think about what I saw. The comfy-looking chairs in front of mirrors were pretty easy to understand, but the chairs with buckets of water attached? The cushioned tables? It was strange.

  “Hello.” A tall, tanned man smiled and walked out from a room at the back of the large salon. He wore a button-up dark blue shirt and had blonde hair. “You’re Emma, I assume?”

  “Yeah. Marcel?” I checked, feeling much more welcomed by him than I had by Logan’s mom.

  “In the flesh.” he offered me his elbow. “You’re getting the royal treatment today, honey. Most girls would only dream about a day like this.” He said, still smiling. Nothing about his smile felt fake, though I felt fairly sure it was.

  At least he tried to give me a real smile, unlike Laren Lush.

  Nothing about that woman felt real, except maybe that she was really beautiful.

  He led me to a chair in the middle of the salon, and I sat down. It was even more comfortable than it looked.

  “Are you excited?” he asked, as he pressed on some kind of a pedal to lift my chair.<
br />
  “I’m not really sure what to expect.” I admitted. “One of my aunts usually cuts my hair whenever it gets too hard to brush. We don’t have hair salons in the, uh,” I remembered that I was supposed to be from a human small town in Idaho. “Idaho. We do have one salon, now that I think about it, but my mom and the owner hate each other.”

  I threw something out there, hoping he would be convinced.

  Marcel laughed.

  “Good recovery.” He pulled a comb out of a half-apron around his waist and started combing through my hair. It was pretty tangled. “Laren told me that you grew up in the…” he hesitated.

  “You can call it the Dump, I know humans call it that. We always called it the Cage.” I gave him a small smile.

  “The Cage is a much better name.” Marcel nodded. “Wow.” He said. His hands stopped moving for a moment as he noticed the marking on my neck. “That’s beautiful.” He admired my cotie, which was a rose-gold color that I’d always loved. “It’s a shame to keep something that pretty covered up.”

  “We don’t. In the Cage, shifters wear their coties proudly. Laren’s the one who wants me to hide who I am.” I sighed and felt my face fall a little. “Hopefully she’ll get used to it and change her mind.” After that guilt-trip in the car, I highly doubted it.

  “Hopefully.” Marcel echoed my sentiment, though his expression told me also he wasn’t convinced. “What animal do you turn into?” he changed the subject away from Logan’s mother.

  “A wolf.” I smiled, thinking about my other form. I loved being a shifter.

  “Okay.” Marcel nodded. “Do you like it?”

  “More than anything.” I nodded. “Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t move.”

  “It’s alright. Is there any particular way you want your hair? Do you care about the length, or the color?” He checked.

  “Oh, um.” I bit my lip. “In my culture, natural hair is the most attractive. I know some people used to change their hair, but no one does anymore. Do you have to change it?”

  I’d always liked my hair. It was a medium, chocolatey-brown color and naturally big and wavy. It reminded me of my birth mom. In all the pictures I’d seen of her, she had an afro of light brown curls. While mine wasn’t near an afro, it was bigger and had more volume than most people’s hair I saw on a daily basis.

  “Laren thinks it needs to be changed.” Marcel said apologetically. “I’ll just cut a few inches and perm the waves into perfection. It’ll only be a little different, you’ll love it.” He assured me.

  The way he already knew what he was going to do to it told me that he had only been asking me to be polite. Laren Lush was the one paying him (probably an exorbitant sum of money, I figured), so he was going to do exactly what she wanted him to do.

  “Okay.” I said, my voice wavering a little.

  Marcel grabbed a spray bottle and began the long process of changing my hair to fit the mold of Logan’s world.

  I told myself that it was worth it. He was my soulmate; he was worth everything.

  Seven

  When my hair was perfectly wavy, a few inches shorter, a little lighter in some places, and dry, Marcel left me alone for a few minutes. It was 1o:30 by then, and there were a few other clients in the salon. I scratched the cotie on my neck, which was starting to feel kind of dry after so long without shifting, and sat alone for a few minutes.

  When he came back, he had hair in his hands.

  My eyes widened when I saw it, the long chunks of hair the same color as mine.

  “What is that?” I asked, leaning away from the strange random hair.

  “They’re called hair extensions.” Marcel explained. “I’m just going to blend them in with your natural hair to make it look thicker.” He said, like that was comforting.

  “I don’t want fake hair.” I protested, leaning further away from him as I held my hands up in warning.

  “It’s not fake.” He assured me.

  “Then whose head did you shave to get it? I don’t want it.” I shook my head again, feeling my new hair flow and bounce, moving in a way my old hair never had. I wasn’t sure if I liked the feeling.

  “Laren wants you to wear them when you go to big events. It’s not a big deal, you won’t be wearing them all the time. I’ll show you how to put them in and take them out yourself, they have clips.” He showed me the clips at the top of the hair.

  “That’s weird.” I shook my head again, partially because I didn’t want the extensions and partially because I wanted to feel my hair bounce again.

  “I won’t cut any of your hair, just the extensions. If I don’t do this, Laren is just going to make you come back here later.” He warned.

  I sighed.

  “Fine.” I gave in and sat back against the seat, folding my arms. I was starting to feel like an ant under Laren’s expensive shoes.

  It took Marcel a few minutes to cut the extensions how he wanted them, and like he said he would, he pulled them out afterward and placed them in some kind of black and white striped holder.

  “Alright, you’re all done.” He gave me a small smile, and this one was more forced than the one at the beginning of the hair appointment. I’m sure he was getting tired of me and my disagreeing with what he was doing.

  “Do you know what I’m supposed to do now?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable to ask the question. There was no other option but to ask, though.

  “You have a mani-pedi with Amanda next.” He said, leading me across the salon to the waiting area.

  “A what?” I checked.

  “You’re getting your nails done.” Marcel looked really tired. “After that you’re getting eyelash extensions and a full-body wax, then you’ll be done here.”

  “Eyelash extensions?” I grimaced and looked around the salon at the high-class women around us. Logan said he would be back soon when he dropped me off, but he was still nowhere to be found.

  The waxing sounded weird too, but I already knew what wax was.

  If only their wax was the same as the candle wax I was thinking of.

  When the other women had started coming inside in their nice-looking expensive dresses and outfits, I’d started to feel very out of place. In my chili-pepper t-shirt and old jean shorts, I stuck out like an elephant in a room of swans.

  “Yes. Enjoy your day, Emma.” Marcel left me in the waiting room.

  I tucked my wavy, soft-feeling hair behind my ear. After he’d lightened pieces of my hair, Marcel had done what he called a “scalp treatment” and “deep conditioning treatment”. I didn’t know why my hair needed treatments, but I didn’t argue. Arguing was pointless, I’d learned.

  It felt like my soulmate’s mom owned me, like I was her pet wolf instead of a shifter with opinions.

  When a nice-looking girl took me over to one of the seats with a tub of water attached, I tried to act like a normal human. Since she didn’t have to see my cotie, I was confident Laren wouldn’t have told her what I was.

  “Where are you from?” Amanda asked. She was so nice that I actually thought she cared.

  “A little town in,” it took me a second to remember what the place was called. “Idaho. You wouldn’t have heard of it.” I said, reminding myself of the information I’d read from Logan’s mom’s sheet of lies.

  “Wow. What brought you to New York?” she was surprised by my answer, so I thought Idaho must’ve been pretty far away.

  “My, uh, husband. He lives here, so here I am.” I shrugged.

  “Okay.” Amanda nodded and put my feet in the hollowed part of the chair that was filled with water. The hot water felt good on my feet, especially when the jets started.

  “You can turn on the massage chair if you want.” She suggested.

  “The what?” I raised my eyebrows and looked at the chair I was sitting in. Amanda laughed.

  “The massage chair. You don’t know what that is?” she looked both surprised and amused.

  “No, sorry. My family didn’t have money.” I felt m
y face heat up. I was trying to be a human and failing, it seemed like.

  “Mine doesn’t either.” Amanda admitted, grabbing a remote from a little holder on the side of the chair. I hadn’t even noticed it was there. “I never saw a chair like this until I went to nail school.” She said, dropping her voice to a whisper so no one else would hear. She pushed a few buttons, and the chair started moving behind my back and legs.

  “Whoa.” I jumped a little when it started moving, and she laughed again. “Sorry.” I apologized, my embarrassment growing by the moment.

  “It’s alright. You’re a pleasant change from my usual clients.” She smiled. “Just lean back against it, the chair will massage you. It’s nice.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked my escaped hair behind my ear.

  She started working on my fingernails, cleaning them and going at them with some tools. It made me a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t say anything. I had to seem human, and despite not seeing a massage chair before, I seemed to be doing okay. Or at least Amanda didn’t realize that I wasn’t.

  “So is this a present from your boyfriend?” she asked, making friendly conversation.

  “Kind of. I’m not sure if it’s from him or his mom.” I wrinkled my nose a little and Amanda laughed again. It seemed like she really liked to laugh, which was a pleasant change from Marcel and his being tired of me and my not understanding normal human ways.

  “Well that’s nice of him, or her.” she offered.

  “I guess. I think she only sent me here so I can fit better into her life.” I held up my new hair. “I should probably still be grateful though.”

  “They have a different lifestyle than you did in Idaho?” Amanda asked. I wasn’t sure if she was only asking so it wasn’t awkwardly silent, but I didn’t see any harm in answering. Especially since she was playing along with my Idaho story.

  Though I don’t know if it counts as playing along if she didn’t know it was just a story.