Chapter 4 Chapter Four
Violet
For exactly seven minutes, I convinced myself I was handling my first executive meeting like a professional adult.
I sat at the long glass boardroom table with my notebook open, pen in hand, blazer buttoned, posture perfect, face arranged into what I hoped said competent young finance professional and not traumatized raccoon in corporate clothing.
Across from me, a senior analyst clicked through projections on a massive screen. People discussed market expansion, acquisition costs, and something about international regulatory risk.
Things I should have been focusing on.
Instead, I was painfully aware of two men at the head of the table.
Kael Drakon sat like the room existed because he allowed it.
There was no other way to describe him.
He didn’t slouch. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t look around hoping people would listen.
He simply existed, and everyone adjusted themselves around him.
Power clung to him like a second skin.
Dark hair. Golden eyes. Broad shoulders. Perfectly tailored black suit. A jawline that could probably cut glass and ruin lives.
Not that I was staring.
I was observing.
Professionally.
For work.
Probably.
Beside him sat Rowan, all lazy elegance and wicked charm. Golden-blond hair, silver eyes, smile sharp enough to be illegal in at least twelve countries. Where Kael felt like a storm contained in human skin, Rowan felt like the lightning that hit first and laughed about it afterward.
Both of them kept looking at me.
Not obviously.
But enough that my nerves were tap-dancing on the edge of a breakdown.
I glanced down at my notebook.
My notes read:
Q3 forecast
International markets
Kael’s eyes are actual gold??
Stop being weird
Rowan smirk = danger
WHAT IS HAPPENING
Excellent.
Very professional.
Top of my class behavior.
The analyst at the screen said something about revenue projections, and I forced myself to focus. Numbers made sense. Numbers were safe. Numbers did not look at me like I had walked into their life carrying a prophecy and emotional damage.
Then the room shifted.
It was subtle at first.
A pressure in the air.
A hum beneath my skin.
The same strange awareness I’d felt in the lobby, the elevator, the hallway—only stronger now. Closer. Like invisible fingers trailing along my veins.
I gripped my pen tighter.
Nope.
We were not doing mysterious body nonsense during a board meeting.
I had student loans, a new job, and a cat with expensive taste. I did not have time for whatever supernatural panic attack my nervous system was trying to invent.
“Miss Ashwood?”
My head snapped up.
Every face at the table was turned toward me.
Oh, fantastic.
Public humiliation. My favorite.
The woman at the screen smiled politely. “I asked if you had any initial thoughts on the Southeast expansion model.”
Right.
Work.
This was work.
I looked at the slide, scanned the numbers, and thankfully my brain decided to be useful.
“The labor cost assumptions are too conservative,” I said before I could second-guess myself.
A few eyebrows lifted.
I swallowed but continued. “The projected margins rely on the current wage index, but the proposed region has pending legislation that could increase payroll obligations within the next fiscal year. If that passes, your operating costs rise by at least nine percent, and the break-even timeline stretches from eighteen months to closer to twenty-six.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Oh no.
Had I just corrected the executive team on my first day?
Should I fake a medical emergency?
Could one politely resign mid-meeting and flee into traffic?
Rowan leaned back in his chair, silver eyes bright with amusement.
Kael’s mouth curved.
Not a full smile.
Barely one at all.
But enough to make my stomach drop directly into my shoes.
“Good catch,” he said.
Two words.
Deep voice.
Calm approval.
My entire nervous system lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Thank you,” I managed.
Rowan tapped his pen against the table. “Brilliant and terrifying. My favorite combination.”
I blinked.
The woman beside me coughed like she was hiding a laugh.
Kael shot Rowan a look.
Rowan looked delighted.
I should not have found that charming.
I absolutely found that charming.
The meeting continued, but the strange hum beneath my skin didn’t leave. If anything, it grew worse. Every time Kael spoke, warmth curled low in my belly. Every time Rowan smiled, my pulse kicked like it had forgotten its job was to be subtle.
And beneath all of it was something else.
Something deeper.
Older.
Waiting.
My fingers tingled.
I flexed them beneath the table.
The lights overhead flickered.
Once.
Twice.
I froze.
Nobody reacted.
Maybe I imagined it.
Great. Wonderful. Hallucinations. Exactly what every girl wants on her first day at a high-powered corporate job.
Then the glass of water beside my notebook trembled.
Just slightly.
A ripple moved across the surface.
My breath caught.
The hum sharpened into a pulse.
My pulse.
No.
Not mine.
Something inside me answered it.
Heat surged up my arm.
I gasped before I could stop myself.
Kael’s gaze snapped to me instantly.
So did Rowan’s.
The water in my glass rose.
Not spilled.
Rose.
A shimmering ribbon pulling upward into the air like gravity had clocked out early and left no forwarding address.
For one horrifying second, the entire boardroom watched a floating spiral of water twist above the table.
Then the glass exploded.
Not cracked.
Exploded.
Shards burst outward.
Water splashed across my notebook.
Several people shouted.
I jerked back, heart hammering, as golden light flared beneath my skin.
Under my skin.
Like my veins had turned into molten sunlight.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
Kael moved so fast I barely saw him.
One moment he was at the head of the table.
The next he was beside me, his large hand wrapping around my wrist before I could touch the broken glass.
“Don’t move.”
The command was quiet.
Firm.
Dominant enough that my entire body obeyed before my brain could argue.
Which was rude.
Very rude.
“I wasn’t planning on juggling it,” I snapped, because apparently sarcasm was what my survival instincts chose under pressure.
Rowan appeared on my other side, already pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.
“Good. Blood is hell on custom boardroom tables.”
I stared at him.
He winked.
Kael gently turned my hand over, checking for cuts. His touch was warm. Too warm. The kind of warmth that sank beneath skin and made thoughts slippery.
His thumb brushed my palm.
A spark jumped between us.
Literal.
Golden.
Tiny.
Impossible.
We both froze.
His eyes darkened.
Not black.
Not brown.
Gold.
Burning gold.
My mouth went dry.
“What are you?” I whispered.
Something in his face changed.
Softened.
Hardened.
Both at once.
“Someone who will keep you safe.”
The words hit somewhere embarrassingly deep.
I wanted to laugh.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to pull my hand back.
I wanted him to never let go.
Which was extremely inconvenient because I had known the man for less than two hours.
Rowan crouched beside me, his teasing expression gone. “Violet, look at me.”
I did.
His silver eyes were gentle now.
Focused.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re arguing. Different activity.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me.
“There’s glass everywhere, my hand is glowing, and I may have just committed workplace sorcery. I think I’m allowed to multitask.”
His mouth twitched. “Workplace sorcery is frowned upon before probation ends.”
I laughed again, shaky and too close to tears.
Kael’s hand tightened around mine.
Protective.
Possessive.
Grounding.
Around us, the room had gone unnaturally quiet.
Too quiet.
I looked up.
Every executive at the table was staring.
But not with shock.
Not exactly.
With recognition.
Fear.
Reverence.
My stomach twisted.
They knew.
Somehow, every single one of them knew more about what had just happened than I did.
Kael turned his head slowly, and the air in the room changed.
The charming warmth vanished.
What remained was command.
Ancient, absolute command.
“This meeting is adjourned.”
No one argued.
People stood immediately, gathering tablets and papers with trembling efficiency. Not one person looked directly at me as they left.
Cowards.
Or maybe smart people.
Hard to tell.
Within seconds, the room emptied.
Only Kael, Rowan, and I remained among the shattered glass and spilled water.
My notebook was ruined.
My dignity was somewhere under the table.
My hand had stopped glowing, which was nice.
Small mercies.
I pulled away from Kael because I needed space to think.
Also because if he kept touching me, I was in serious danger of doing something wildly inappropriate, like leaning into him and asking why he smelled like smoke, expensive soap, and bad decisions.
“What just happened?” I asked.
Neither man answered immediately.
Bad sign.
Very bad sign.
Rowan stood and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Kael’s gaze stayed on me like if he looked away, I might disappear.
Finally, he said, “Not here.”
I laughed once.
Sharp.
Humorless.
“Oh, absolutely not. You do not get to say not here after my water glass auditioned for Cirque du Soleil.”
Rowan’s lips twitched.
Kael did not smile.
“It isn’t safe.”
Those three words killed every sarcastic response in my throat.
Because my instincts reacted immediately.
Not fear of him.
Fear of something else.
Something outside this room.
Something listening.
I hugged my arms around myself.
“What isn’t safe?”
Kael stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was something fragile.
I hated that.
I also maybe needed it.
“You.”
My breath caught.
Rowan’s expression darkened.
“And everyone who just felt that power wake up.”
Before I could respond, every window in the boardroom went black.
Not tinted.
Not shaded.
Black.
As if night had slammed against the glass in the middle of the afternoon.
A symbol burned briefly across the darkened windows.
Silver.
Jagged.
Alive.
Rowan swore.
Kael moved in front of me so fast I stumbled back.
His body blocked mine completely.
Protective.
Furious.
Terrifying.
“What is that?” I whispered.
Kael’s golden eyes began to glow.
And when he answered, his voice was no longer entirely human.
“A warning.”
The symbol flared brighter.
Then words appeared beneath it, written in silver fire.
THE LOST HEIR HAS AWAKENED.
And somewhere far away, something screamed my name.
