Mackenzie had done many reprehensible things since her initiation. Although transparent transactions and fair deals were her favoured means by which to acquire vampire blood, she had on more than one occasion resorted to violence to get what she needed. What she lacked in physical strength to overpower the rare vampire she hunted, she sought to gain through other means. This was why sorcery had her curiosity peaked. Luckily, the frequency with which she needed to feed had lessened over time. It allowed her to be more particular about the source of her boosters, and to carry on with life above ground. As opposed to a paladin (whom she’d had the unfortunate luck of crossing paths with), her skin lacked the markings that might evidence her supernatural inclination. What she was remained—surprisingly—still a secret to most.
“—And here I thought men always preferred being the ones ridden.”
She timed her response with the doors gliding open, and stepped out first, a wicked grin on her face.
Then, without missing a beat, she turned on her heel to glance back at him, hands deep in her pockets.
He'd known the remark was tiptoeing over the line of cheeky, and that he should be fully prepared for a reply that matched his own but Mack as always exceeded his expectations. Lincoln stifled a laugh of incredulity, following her out into the underground carpark. His head was shaking, a hand sweeping across his jaw while they walked. "If only you knew, Mack. Seems I've got a lot to teach you beyond management and sorcery." Lincoln couldn't help the return of a smile that was equally wicked, holding promise of secrets that he was unlikely to spill so easily.
"Well, maybe after dinner I'll let you hop on my back and I'll show you what it feels like to leap over buildings... Dinner first, I'm starving and you're wasting away before my eyes." He offered her an arm, the other gesturing towards his car, today it was the less flashy black model. Luxurious, comfortable and what was expected of the King heir.
B r e a k t h e c h a i n s , s e v e r t h e l i n k s . . .
A n d w e l c o m e y o u r n e w M o n a r c h y
Mackenzie hoped for the subject to never come up in conversation as she’d find it difficult to avoid embarrassing herself, but in the privacy of her own mind she couldn’t deny her attraction to Lincoln King. It was a latent attraction, sourced from a lack of connection and an appreciation for everything he represented: charm, intelligence, innovation, ambition, and, as shameful as she found it to be, money. He was easy on the eyes as well, and of a convenient height given her measurements. The position at Monarch Media was far too important to her and she wouldn’t risk it by sleeping with the boss, but there was no point denying that it remained in the scope of possibility should the opportunity present itself and caution be thrown to the wind.
In order to avoid saying anything stupid or too revealing, the blood thief openly laughed. Her laugh had a silvery quality to it when she was keyed up, and it was lucky that he wasn’t sufficiently acquainted with her habits to pick up on it. Raking a hand through her hair, she arched her brows at his vehicular choice. Most of their in-city transit, whenever she accompanied him, was town in a hired town car; the parking near impossible during daylight hours. It was another reason why she liked having a motorcycle… Easier parking.
“And here I was expecting a green tesla. Loud and…green,” she teased, slipping her arm around the one he offered. It reminded her of when she’d only just begun working for him and he’d asked her how she was settling. Her greatest concern had been that green wasn’t her colour and she wouldn’t be able to attend the Christmas party in theme. Patting his forearm with her other hand, as though to reassure him her words were no reflection of her expectations (they were, actually), she added. “Please don’t comment on my weight though. My mother has met the allowable quota for the year, and it's only February. You'll both give me a complex.”
While she delivered the words with a smile, there was no lack of sincerity. Cancer had ravaged her body, and she was only beginning to reclaim it. It had been so long since she’d shared a meal with anyone, she was nervous enough as it was. What if he took issue with the way she picked at her food, or left most of it untouched?
There was something about Mack that truly captured Linc's attention, and more than that, actually managed to hold it. Perhaps it was her pragmatic approach to life, or the way she both made him feel challenged and yet content with his achievements. She seemed to genuinely respect him and value his input, wanting to learn beneath his tutelage with grand designs on a brighter future for herself. Her dry sense of humour didn't hurt things, it resonated with him in a way that made work just that bit more interesting when she was at his right hand. The pair had settled into something of a routine over the few months they'd worked together, able to work with and around the other while still having much to learn, having kept things on a strictly professional level up until this point. He was surprised if she didn't catch the considering look he directed sideways at her, studying her features for a handful of seconds as if weighing up something in his mind. He was attracted to her, on many levels, and yet something for him was lacking. Whether it was due to his own reservations or something bigger that he had only gently addressed, still unable to fully claim it as an identity, he couldn't be sure. Lincoln wasn't in the mood to explore any further right now, content to take it for what it was on face value.
The teasing about green didn't go unnoticed, the man giving a low chuckle in response, bowing his head to murmur. "Sorry to disappoint, if we're talking Christmas colours just wait until you see the other car. Cherry red convertible that drives like a dream on open roads."
In response to her follow-up remark, Lincoln's hand brushed the one that lay against his arm, a touch that spoke of his empathy and apology. "Hey, no comment on your weight. I've got a Mother who is a fan of nitpicking at my... Well, most things actually. Should've heard her on the phone Sunday morning, it was a nightmare. Maybe I should take you to the damn party, might stop her attempting to sell me off to the highest bidder like some prime piece of real estate... Or meat. Great, now I'm hungry." His laughter was dry, a hollowness to it that spoke volumes. More an act of release, a way to brush off his frustration rather than perpetuate it. Mother's could be as bad as a hangover, the after effects leaving you dry mouthed and headachey, just wanting to bury your head in the sand until the sensation passed. Maybe that was just how his mother made him feel, the woman could be a real piece of work.
He slid his free hand into his pocket, gathering up the keys, pressing the unlock button that made the car beep in a satisfying manner. Leading her to the car meant he took initiative in the opening the passenger side door, not that he thought she was incapable of taking care of herself by any means, just a habitual act he only thought to second guess after the fact.
B r e a k t h e c h a i n s , s e v e r t h e l i n k s . . .
A n d w e l c o m e y o u r n e w M o n a r c h y
Bonding at the expense of their parents seemed to lead the conversation towards something unexpected and unwelcome. Mackenzie’s smile tightened at the mention of party dates, for she realised then and there that it was certainly not a role she intended to fulfil. While the thought of falling into bed with her boss had it’s appeal—perhaps due to the sheer depravity of it, the extension of her role in the company as part-time family buffer wasn’t a responsibility she had interest in acquiring. Of course, she understood his words were sourced from frustration and not premeditation. Her mother brought out the same in her as well.
“Thank you,” she replied as her hand fell away from his arm. Mackenzie folded her willowy frame into the passenger’s seat, reaching to close the door herself. “Well, in spite of whatever grievances you might have, she does deserve a modicum of recognition for raising such a magnanimous man.”
The sincerity of her words surprised her, and she reached for her seatbelt in thoughtful silence as she waited for him to take his place. A yawn contorted her features as she glanced around the car’s interior, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. Food would surely right her fatigued state, a decent meal always did wonders.
Lincoln too seemed somewhat surprised by the way the words were presented, no hint of spite or sarcasm in the statement. It was almost touching or would have been if he believed it about himself. "Magnanimous?" He repeated with a gentle laugh, making his way around to sit on the driver's side, busying himself with the actions of getting ready to drive. Lincoln turned the radio down to a comfortable volume, settling back into the leather seat and turning the key, revving the engine to a gentle purr of life. He didn't speak again until they were exiting the car park onto the darkened city streets, headlights bathing it in a wash of brightness that only seemed to highlight any minor imperfections. Even in this more uptown area there were signs of decay, of troubles that were swept under the rug. There was plenty of money coming into the city and out of it, though much illegal, things he tried to keep well away from.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mack. Perhaps if you knew me better you wouldn't be quite so gracious. Don't worry, I wouldn't wish one of those parties one my worst enemy, even if the connections to be made at such events are considered prosperous." The sideways smile he flashed her was winsome and yet half-hearted, more an automatic twitch of lips rather than embodied with greater meaning. His mind briefly drifting to a place where she could not follow, this woman who hardly knew him at all. The restaurant wasn't far, only a few blocks away but he was content enough to chatter if she was, otherwise the radio was on, playing a song he found his fingers tapping along with against the steering wheel.
B r e a k t h e c h a i n s , s e v e r t h e l i n k s . . .
A n d w e l c o m e y o u r n e w M o n a r c h y
Mackenzie’s social circled had dwindled considerably in the last two years, the sickness bringing out in her a profound distaste for the political correctness and imagined eggshells friends and coworkers stepped on around her. Towards the end of her time in California, social interaction required more effort than she was capable of mustering, and the way people would look at her wigged her out. She had no desire to be an inspiration to those who regarded her with ill-masked pity, nor had she any interest in being in anyone’s prayers. With the burnt bridges came freedom, but also a lack of exposure that’d skewed her perspective. As she glanced over at Lincoln, she had little trouble imagining her view of him to be poorly informed.
She regarded him curiously, gaze flitting about his profile as she considered him. Lincoln King: socialite, entrepreneur, sorcerer. The latter was still not entirely clear to her, but given the unexpected nature of such revelation, there was no doubt that there was more to him that she’d failed to imagine.
“I don’t doubt it,” she replied, not doubting for a minute that a foot through the door was more than one could expect when socialised by a King. “Any prosperous sorcerers you know of, or was that something you were simply born into?”
When Lincoln thought long and hard about any other sorcerer's he knew, the list came up surprisingly short. They weren't exactly the most outgoing bunch, not in regards to announcing their condition and the implications of that to the world. He'd rather kept his own abilities up his sleeve, few being in the know regarding what he could do. He felt little to no need to tell anyone, only occasionally revealing that he was a little more than human when the need arose or he found someone else of the more supernatural persuasion. Mackenzie's curiousity had proved to be a good lure for the sorcerer side of Lincoln King, the opportunity to not only show off a little, but to bring her further into his world. Perhaps it was just that he was lonely.
For all his money, influence and acquaintances Lincoln was one of the loneliest men around.
Many knew of him, so few knew him at all. Not surprising considering the secrets he tried to maintain, letting people thinking him the mercurial rich brat, fond of a temper tantrum, rather than the truly troubled man plagued with mental illness. "My father." He choked out, letting the question go unanswered for what felt like too long, shaking himself from his thoughts so he could better address the question. "And my Grandfather, and so on. "Thus the passing of riches was more than gold, it was that which made him the richest man. It was knowledge and power, it was a bond with the Earth that could not be described but must be felt deep in the bones of he who wishes to bend it's energy to his will." Blah, blah, blah... I am the heir, so I was trained." The shrug he gave was sharp, almost more of a flinch, a hearty dismissal of the whole thing as if he didn't feel the weight of ceremony upon him.
B r e a k t h e c h a i n s , s e v e r t h e l i n k s . . .
A n d w e l c o m e y o u r n e w M o n a r c h y
It was a spiel she’d have thought borrowed from a scifi playwright had she herself not been subjected to the ceremonial ramblings of many throughout this forsaken city. She silently considered his words, wondering what a different perspective on life (and the supernatural) his upbringing must have tailored. Mackenzie had only ventured down these windy paths in search for something other than what modern medicine had to offer, but couldn’t fathom her parents—far too wrapped up in their algorithms and statistics—to have nurtured any illusion of there being more to life than what could meet the eye and be explained through cold hard science. It’d been desperation and frustration that’d torn her away from that inflexible path, one she could have easily kept on if western medicine had lived up to its expectations. It hadn’t, and here she was, surviving on vampire blood and peering further down the rabbit hole.
“Sounds—” Mackenzie pressed her lips together and forced herself to consider her words before continuing, “—like a lot of pressure.”
Not that she didn’t know of pressure herself, having had two Stanford professors as parents, but if her limited experience with the supernatural was anything to go by, his upbringing must have had many more dimensions that striving for academic excellency.
“I don’t know much about it, to be honest.” She managed to finish the thought in her mind without too much difficulty, unwilling to give away her particular expertise. Was the sorcerer community as divided about other supernatural humans as vampires were amongst themselves? “What other—I mean, do you interact with any other supernatural people that are... not sorcerers?”
The man scoffed a gentle peel of laughter as the car rounded a corner, Mackenzie's pause, he wasn't sure if she was trying to be delicate with him or genuinely wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "Pressure?
Oh, I suppose you could call it that." He admitted, once again waving it off as if it were nothing. It wasn't nothing. It had been a huge part of his life for so long, another thing that set him apart, made him different and dangerous. It was just another secret he had to smile around and lock behind his lips.
Mack's follow up question had the man's brows going up, shooting her a sidelong look. "Well,
I figured my creation of Bitr, a dating app primarily for those of the supernatural community might have given me away. He teased, "Yeah, I'm friends with a vampire or two, some blood thieves... I actually don't think I know any of the vamp hunting culty ones, Paladins right? I could, and just not know about it I suppose, I doubt most of them suspect what I can do until I show them." Linc glanced towards her once more, "What about you? Know of many?"
B r e a k t h e c h a i n s , s e v e r t h e l i n k s . . .
A n d w e l c o m e y o u r n e w M o n a r c h y
