Chapter Text
Kinn wakes with a start. The room is dark and silent but for the sound of heavy, slow breathing to his left. Cold night air prickles against the bare arm he has extended, gun already in hand.
His sleep was fitful, with confusing vignettes of dreams that are still clinging to him even as he gains awareness. He’s in his bedroom, behind the compound’s wards and security; everything should be still but his heart is racing, sending adrenaline and magic coursing through his veins, and there are a pair of honey-gold eyes glowing in the darkness. He watches with growing concern as they move closer.
Kinn tightens his grip on his weapon but holds himself carefully still where he’s sitting up in his bed, watching as the prime gently butts against the covers that are hanging over the side. It pays him no mind while it does this; there’s no reaction but the twitching of one ear as Kinn tracks its movements around the bed with his eyes and gun. When it’s satisfied with its apparent marking of his bed, the dark shape crosses to the window to begin marking the perimeter of the room. For a second, Kinn can finally see it better in the strip of light spilling in from the gap in the curtains.
It’s a black leopard, its true colouring too dark to make out in the limited lighting, but Kinn can see the power in its corded muscles. The prime is large, larger than what is usual for the urban setting. A creature such as this belongs in the wild, somewhere it can carve out a territory for itself bigger than that afforded by a densely packed city.
What is it doing here, he wonders. He briefly entertains the notion that it’s been sent here but that’s not possible. There is no force, magical or otherwise, that can compel a prime to do this. There’s only one reason why one, obviously in its primal state, should be in the den of a witch without warning. It’s common practice for witches in want of a familiar to leave a door in their wards open to interested primes. Kinn isn’t in want, the furthest thing from it in fact, and the wards around his den are ironclad, keeping anyone who isn’t part of his coven out, interested prime or not.
This has never happened before. Any prime that’s ever been stupid enough to try to angle for a bond with Kinn has summarily and inarguably been rejected before they even had a chance to step on the premises. To have one not only make it through the wards but past his guards and into his bedroom is unthinkable. And yet.
With his unoccupied hand, he brings the wards up to make sure there is nothing he’s missing with his implicit awareness of them. The sigils glow for a moment, bright whorls of silver mist that weave together in patterns that would be illegible to any but the witch that cast them. It only takes a second for Kinn to read them.
The prime’s previously blown out pupils contract as the light hits them but it isn’t deterred from its goal. It lets out a quiet huff, as if amused by him and continues rubbing its scent into the cushions of the armchair in the corner. Kinn doesn’t bother being annoyed by this– he’s occupied with working through how this is possible. He allows the wards to fade away. They are as he expected. If nothing else, they should be as impenetrable as ever in this room. Even if there’s a gap elsewhere on the compound, the prime should not have been able to cross the threshold of his bedroom.
He doesn’t open his mouth to ask how this feat has been achieved. There’s no point. If the prime had been here before, Kinn would’ve known even after the fact, so this must be only the beginning of its courtship. Until it determines whether Kinn is worth pursuing any further, it won’t allow its human side to even know it’s courting him, let alone bring the human forth to answer his questions. Kinn isn’t interested in being pursued but there’s not much he can do now except reinforce his wards to keep it out in the future or allow it to finish its perusal and dismiss the courtship in its own time.
Or, rather, there isn’t much else he’s supposed to do.
Kinn is very good at doing what he’s supposed to. He takes pride in his discipline, inasmuch as he also laments it. Even as it keeps his coven prosperous and his family safe, it stifles him, but he does not often allow himself to err too far from it. There are times, however, that he chooses to do whatever he wants and to hell with the consequences. As commendable as it is that this prime is wily enough to get into his den, it has ignored social convention in breaching the wards of a witch that wants to be left alone. Kinn thinks that’s reason enough to do the same.
He doesn’t wait until morning. As soon as the prime is done with him for the night, he throws himself out of bed and into the task of finding out who it belongs to. His guards give him uncertain looks as he exits but he quells their questions with one hand. They quietly follow him to the control room, collectively ignoring the people they pass along the way who clear a path for him instinctively. Kinn wants to ask where they all were when someone entered his den but it would draw attention to the problem. That’s the last thing he needs.
Unconsciously, he glances at his wrist for the time but finds it bare. He would have taken his watch off before bed anyway but there was nothing to take off tonight. His jaw clenches at the reminder of his other burgeoning problem. He’s given Arm the task of finding the real identity of the man who made off with his watch so he expects that to be resolved shortly. However, Big is still injured, and the Italians are growing too bold for being on his territory. Something needs to be done about that.
One problem at a time. It would be helpful if they didn’t insist on occurring all at once but there’s nothing he can do in the middle of the night about the Italians, Big or Jom the martial artist bartender that he hasn’t already done so finding this bold prime can take precedent.
He dismisses the guards in the control room. They and his own detail wait outside while he checks the footage from the last three hours. It’s only when he concedes to finding no trace of the prime but one-second intervals in which the footage goes dark that he admits to himself that he expected as much. It clearly knows what it’s doing, to think otherwise would be foolish. It still bore investigating, however, in case there was something on the footage that needed to be erased. It wouldn’t do to have it fall into his father’s hands.
Finished but nowhere near satisfied, he makes his way back to bed, reinforcing the wards as he goes.
The prime might not come back. That would be the simplest thing. For it to simply have changed its mind about him. He prays to deities that have never listened to him before that the prime doesn’t come back. But if it does, that will only give Kinn more time to track it. It would bring great shame to his coven and his family if he were to harm a prime courting him in its primal state, but the human it belongs to? Well, that’s another story entirely.
“Kinn,” his father murmurs, nodding to dismiss his brother and his guards. “A word before you go.”
Kinn’s body tenses minutely. He was hoping to escape his father’s clutches as soon as the meeting ended. He’s an intolerably awful liar by nature and his father is unfairly perceptive. If he asks too many questions about the previous night, the only thing Kinn can hope to do is deflect, but that won’t get him far.
“Pa?” he answers, once the room is clear.
His father searches his face, dark eyes much like his own taking in more than Kinn knows he is showing. It feels rather like being under a bespelled microscope designed to put your very soul on display. He knows his father won’t attempt to use magic to pry open Kinn’s secrets– even as a child, Kinn’s protections were too strong for that, but his father has learned to draw them out in other ways.
Korn taps his forefinger on the table in thought, a production that usually serves to put people at ease. Kinn, however, knows that his father has already written the script for this conversation. It’s Kinn’s job to anticipate what his lines should be.
“How is Big’s arm?”
They start simply. Discussions of spellbreaking bullets and torn ligaments are small talk. Korn should already have all this information, so the question only serves as a reminder to Kinn that his father has suggested employing the man who helped him when he was separated from his guards. Kinn’s recitation of the doctor’s report reiterates that it would be more worthwhile to recruit personnel with tactical training. When Korn says, “I hope his recuperation is swift,” he means that he’s disappointed Kinn doesn’t have his vision but he’ll concede for now.
Then the real conversation begins. The older man rests his forearms on the table and leans slightly closer. “The de Lucchi Family is displeased.”
Kinn steeples his hands together in front of himself, partly to hide the smirk he can feel growing on his face. "I can’t imagine why.”
Korn gives a long-suffering sigh, but his son can see the shadow of humour in his eyes. “You bound their consigliere.”
Kinn allows himself to smile outright. “Khun thought the ribbon was cute.” Of course, his father is referring less to him having wrapped Don’s men up like a gift and more to the binding spell Kinn cast to suppress his chief advisor’s magic, but his older brother did cackle when he heard about the ribbon.
“Be that as it may, the old guard is unamused. You were justified in killing the thief. This, however, was groundless.”
“An attempt on my life–”
“That you cannot prove,” Korn interrupts. “You’ve allowed your impatience and temper to get the best of you.”
Kinn rolls his shoulders back to avoid allowing them to do so again. When he’s banked the irritation, he responds, “If I’d allowed myself to seek the retribution I actually wanted, the de Lucchi Family would have no one left to speak for them.”
His father sighs again, a sound somewhere between resigned and fond. “Every day, I see more of your mother in you.”
“Don should have taken it as the warning it was when I told him the same.”
Korn finally laughs, evidently giving in to Kinn this time. For the second time today. It’s rare for him to give Kinn so much leeway. It makes Kinn wary. He feels like he’s either being played or somehow living up to his father’s expectations. Neither are welcome.
“Temperance, Kinn. Make amends with de Lucchi if you cannot find proof he was responsible for last night.”
Kinn nods. He’s already said too much today. He knows what his father expects him to choose. It won’t be easy to placate the de Lucchi Family and Kinn quickly tires of diplomacy. But finding proof might take too long and the Council won’t be kept waiting, so Kinn resolves to practise his congenial smile and spend an unholy sum on wine.
“I understand that the responsibility placed on you is heavy, Kinn,” Korn says, his voice taking on that soothing tone it does when he’s about to ask more of Kinn than he should. “I have tried to teach you to temper yourself but it occurs to me that there is another way. A familiar would not only share your burdens but–”
“No.”
There are very few things Kinn would outright refuse Korn. Most of them have to do with his brothers. The only thing he would refuse on his own behalf is this, and Korn knows it. He knows it but he will continue to suggest it. Continue to paint pictures of a world in which Kinn is undisputedly the most powerful witch in the East– if Kinn becomes that, what would you call the person who holds his reins?
“My son, I only ask as a concerned father. Your magic is immensely powerful. It will eat you alive if you do not unburden yourself.”
When Kinn was still young and dumb enough to believe in his father, he asked what would happen to his familiar if they couldn’t take his power. The answer was enough to break the faith he had in his family’s patriarch. When the familiar is used until it can’t be any more, Korn will want him to take another then another, until he’s torn through every prime he needs to, to sate Korn’s bloodlust. It won’t end until his father is dead. By then, Kinn is afraid he will be too far gone himself to put an end to it.
Whatever Korn sees on his face makes him nod slowly and lean back in his chair. “Give it some more thought. We’ll talk again.”
Kinn takes his dismissal with relief. He won’t be giving it any more thought but it’s enough that he has been given time. He has to get rid of the prime somehow. Before it gets caught up in something it can’t handle.
While he’s at it, he needs to get something on “Jom” that disqualifies him wholly from becoming a bodyguard. It’s obvious why Korn is so set on employing him despite his lack of credentials. There aren’t any unbonded primes on their guard staff– there’s little sense in hiring a bodyguard who at any moment could be compelled to leave their post by their prime in search of a mate. This man would only be a liability in terms of protecting Kinn. But it would give him access to his den that no other unbonded primes have, forcing Kinn to acknowledge any courtship that might stem from it.
His father has tried to force his hand before. It didn’t work then and it’s not going to work now. Not in this.
Arm meets him in his office as soon as he makes his way back to it. He looks, frankly, sullen as he stands in front of the desk and taps at a tablet so Kinn has little hope for the information he’s about to receive. He does his nerves a favour by pouring himself a glass of scotch, neat and tossing it back in one go.
Arm waits until he’s poured another and motioned with the drink for him to speak.
“His name is Porsche, Khun Kinn,” Arm starts. “I’ve sent his profile to your email.”
“Do you expect me to find something displeasing in it?”
“No… We found your watch, sir. Porsche’s uncle sold it to a pawn shop soon after you got home last night. But it’s–” Arm grimaces before sliding the tablet onto the table. There’s a video queued up, CCTV footage from behind the counter of what appears to be a pawn shop. A small man stands in the cramped space with a phone held up to his ear as he inspects a watch. Even with the low resolution, Kinn recognises it as his own. “He called us as soon as he got it and Min was sent to retrieve it.”
Yet Arm stands there with his hands clasped in front of him, no watch in sight. Kinn only raises his eyebrow. Arm clears his throat in discomfort and leans in to fast forward the video. When he’s done, Kinn sees the man put his watch down and disappear out of frame, likely into a back room. The watch sits there, undisturbed for only a moment before the footage blinks into darkness. It only lasts a split second but the watch is gone when the image returns. The shop owner reappears and does a visible double take before starting to frantically search the area. Arm stops the video.
“I’ve verified that the file was not tampered with. The camera is from a trusted pre-warded line so it should be resistant to magic but it appears to have just… malfunctioned.”
Kinn nods impassively but his thoughts are racing. “Did Min detect any magic residue when he arrived?”
“Yes, sir. It was faint but…”
“But?” he demands. Don’t say it, he thinks anyway. Don’t say what I know you’re about to say.
“The magic residue was not from a witch’s spell, sir. It was from a prime.”
Kinn’s heart stutters in his chest. He dismisses Arm without another word. The familiar looks happy to go. He’s probably going to spend an hour pressed up to Kinn’s brother and their other mate, Pol, pretending that he isn’t trying to find a way to track the thieving prime down even without an order to do so. Kinn doesn’t try to stop him. If what he thinks is true, there’s no point in it anyway.
He already knows who it is. A prime powerful enough to use magic. Powerful enough to take Kinn’s property when it hasn’t been freely given. Powerful enough to bypass industrial-grade wards and just waltz through Kinn’s own even stronger ones. Yeah, he already knows who it is, and now he has a name to attach to them.
Porsche. Who apparently took it upon himself to steal Kinn’s watch back as though it’s his to own.
As if summoned by his thoughts, between one breath and the next, the leopard is in the room. Kinn doesn’t bother reaching for a gun this time. There’s nothing he can do with it.
Like before, the prime doesn’t outwardly pay much attention to him, but this time Kinn can see it clearly in the bright sunlight. It looked all black last night but he sees now that it’s dusted with lighter fur in spots. Brown in a thin line around its mouth and nose, and in streaks on its back. Grey on the back of its rounded ears, and yet lighter grey strands on its chin. It walks with its tail down but curled up at the end, revealing another cluster of grey fur. And all over, but especially across its back with varying degrees of visibility as its fur catches the light with its movements, Kinn can see rosettes peeking through.
You’re beautiful.
It keeps its body low to the ground as though stalking prey when it crosses the middle of the room but stands taller when in the corners and shadows. Kinn tries not to feel like he’s the prey being stalked but fails, even though the prime hasn’t even looked his way. He knows it’s tracking his movements through sound and scent. Its ears twitch in his direction every time he shifts his weight.
You’re beautiful and you’re going to get yourself killed, he thinks. It’s a useless thought, one he cannot communicate with any clarity. Considering that Porsche ignored his clear signs he didn’t want him here to begin with, Kinn isn’t sure he or his prime would care anyway.
Kinn sits down, exhausted in a way he’s too familiar with as Porsche jumps onto the couch and rubs his cheeks into the cushions. The prime flicks its extraordinarily long tail as it walks back and forth on the couch, belly sliding across the seat. Kinn doesn’t think that it works very well as a scent-marker but it looks content enough doing it.
When it’s done, it lays down fully, resting its head on its paws and boring those intense eyes into Kinn’s. It looks expectant. When Kinn raises his eyebrow, it lifts its head to let out a short chuff.
“What?”
He’s been around leopard primes enough to know what that sound means in a general sense. It’s supposed to convey friendliness, even romantic intentions. Kinn has no interest in letting the prime know he knows that. He’s not courting and he doesn’t want to be courted.
Not getting the reaction it clearly wants, the prime stands up and in one leap, it’s suddenly on his desk. It takes everything in Kinn not to rear back in surprise but it must still show on his face because he gets another one of those amused puffs. He lets himself get sniffed for a few seconds– not because the prime’s beauty is even more arresting close up, but because he’s too shocked to do anything else.
This close, Kinn can count the white whiskers on either side of its nose. He can make out the soot-black ring around its eyes, and the darker brown waves inside them that fade into clear, shining golden hues before darkening once more. One moment a nebula and the next, dunes. A sunburst then beach sand.
For a moment, Kinn wants with a fury he’s never felt before. His magic is thrumming in his veins, alive with desire, buzzing with need.
He looks elsewhere and wills it away.
He should shoot this annoying creature on principle alone.
Porsche lets out another puff and a second later, Kinn has a big, rough and white-hot tongue licking him from his chin to his hairline. With a strangled yell, he throws himself backward, already bringing his arm up to swipe at his face angrily.
“What the fuck‽”
Two guards rush into the room, guns drawn and throwing confused looks into the corners of the room, empty but for Kinn, still scrubbing the saliva from his face.
Now he has to shoot him.