Betrayed Heiress: My Second Chance Mate is A Lycan King

Aira’s POV

“What brings you here Uncle Vincent?” I ask as I walk up to him slowly. I expected him to get off my desk, but he doesn’t move a bit. He just sits there like he owns the place.

He shrugs, completely oblivious to the fact that he is meant to get off my fucking desk. “I just thought I should pay a visit; see how you are handling my little brother’s greatest achievement.”

My lips purse, and I hum. “Well, as you can see, I am handling it just fine.”

He nods slowly then tilts his head to the side. “Maybe, but isn’t it a bit too much for you? I mean, you can barely tell what your abilities are; talk less of earning to control them. Now that you have this great empire on your shoulders, do you really believe you can control everything on your own?” he asks, and I rear my head back.

“Of course I can,” I mutter. I only hope that my uncertainty is obvious.

“Look, I am only trying to help you. Why don’t you let me take over the reins while you try to figure out how to master your abilities? I mean, what if one day you lose control and set this entire establishment ablaze?”

Every word that leaves Vincent’s mouth leaves me completely and utterly speechless. Where is he going with this?

His words replay in my mind, and I cast my gaze downward, not sure if I could meet his eyes. A part of me secretly believes he is right. My powers tend to get out of hand whenever my emotions have gone haywire. What if I am in some sort of business meeting and I am arguing with potential clients?

What would happen then? Maybe I should…

That thought dies the second I lift my gaze to meet Vincent’s. The smile on his lips seems devious to me. I don’t know; ever since the first day I laid my eyes on him, he has been giving me this ominous vibe. Then I begin to remember Camille’s words telling me to stay as far away from him as possible.

I can’t do that, though. He and the others are the only ones that can help me know who I really am. Without them, I fear I might self-destruct. They are my family.

But that did not mean I trusted them.

Camille was well aware I had powers I knew nothing about and couldn’t control. Yet she still trusted my father’s company. My father built this company for me.

If I am the one to strike it down and burn everything to ashes, so be it.

So, I meet Vincent’s eyes, my shoulders squared and my head held high. “You don’t have to worry about that. My father built this company for me, meaning that it is mine. mine to grow and mine to destroy.”

Vincent’s countenance falls, and I can easily tell that he is doing everything within his power to shield his anger. But then he does the strangest and most unexpected thing. He smiles at me.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

What the hell?

“You really do have your father’s spirit,” he says quietly, and those words tug at my heart strings. He finally gets off my chair, walks around the table, and makes his way towards the door. He stops right in front of it and looks at me over his shoulder. “Apart from our family, who else have you told about your abilities?”

“My mate, the day I sleepwalked into a graveyard. Remember?”

Vincent nods. “Ah, yes, I remember. But did you not make mention of guards?” he asks.

“Yes, but they just think it has something to do with me being in forbidden lands. No one actually knows that I possess such powers,” I say honestly, and he looks a bit too happy about that information.

“Wonderful. It is important that no one ever knows of your abilities or those of our family.” He says so, and I purse my lips.

“And why is that?”

He walks up to me slowly and stops just barely an inch away from me. He runs his finger down my cheek, and the action sends an uncomfortable sensation through my body. I just hope he never does anything like that again, or I will be forced to bite his finger off.

“Because there are so many bad people in the world, my dear. People that would want those powers for themselves and will go to any lengths to take them.”

I swallow.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.

“My siblings and I are hosting a party for you this Friday evening.”

My brows shoot to the top of my head, and I ask, “A party for me? what for?”

“For your return, of course! It’s not every day we find the niece we once thought was dead for the past two decades. Think of it as a welcoming party. You can bring that little mate of yours; I am sure we would all love to meet him,” he says, and I consider his last statement.

I mean, what could possibly go wrong at a party? And Alex would be there, and I know for a fact that he would never leave my side. Maybe I am getting a bit paranoid because of what Camille said about them. They seem quite caring, and they are probably just worried about me.

Perhaps I am just reading everything the wrong way.

“We will definitely be there,” I tell him, and he grins.

“Splendid” is what he says before leaving.

A breath I did not even know I was holding leaves me, and I make my way back to my desk. I decided to busy myself with the pile of paperwork I had to go through and sign, but I found it quite hard. I keep wondering why I keep getting this feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong.

A few hours pass, and a long yawn leaves my lips. My eyelids grow heavy, and I drop the paper in my hands. Maybe I should take a little nap.

I am standing in a strange room. It is completely unfamiliar to me, and I wonder if this is a dream or if I am in the underworld once again.

“Athena?” I call out, hoping to hear her reply, but my ears are filled with a strange voice instead.

“She’s not here.”

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, and I spin on my heel. When I do, my eyes fall on a little boy standing right behind me. He is wearing a white shirt that is a bit too big for his little body and black trousers.

I noticed that there was paint splattered all over his attire.

Something about his eyes is awfully familiar, but I am very sure I have never met a kid like this in my entire life. I place a gentle smile on my lips, and I crouch down in front of him.

“Well, hello there, little fella. What is your name?” I ask him in the sweetest voice that I can muster.

“It is not important,” he answers simply, which takes me off guard. “Come with me,” he says, then proceeds to walk deeper into the room. What a rude kid!

I follow him, and we stop in front of a man who is painting vigorously on a canvas. My heart skips several beats the second I recognize him.

“Dad?” I call out, and his brush freezes in his hands. He turns around swiftly, and his eyes lock with mine. Instant tears brim my eyes, but my heart shatters into a million pieces when he returns to his painting.

“He can’t see you,” the little boy says.

“But he turned around when I called out to him,” I say, and the boy meets my eyes for just a moment.

“He can’t see you,” he repeats, and my eyebrows furrow with confusion. He returns his attention to my dad, and so do I. My dad places his entire focus on this specific painting. I do not know how long we would stand there watching him paint with so much passion and vigor.

But when he was done, my jaw dropped. This is the painting he did of me.

The creaking of the floor board steals my attention, and my head snaps to the side to find a much younger version of Vincent. My eyes widen when they fall on the blade clenched in his hands. My father is still yet to notice him, and I can’t help the scream that leaves my lips when he raises the weapon above my father’s head.

“Quit fooling around and hand me the danger, Vince,” my father says without turning around, and my mouth falls even more wide open.

Vincent chuckles, then lowers the knife, dropping it on the table holding my dad’s paint and other tools. “I hate your powers; no one can ever catch you off guard.”

Instead of giving a verbal response, my father only hums. Vincent nods at the painting of me and says, “Who are you painting now?”

For a moment, my father doesn’t say a word. He just stares at the painting silently and says, “My daughter.”

Vincent bursts out laughing. “Damn, you really are crazy. I get that you have mystical foresight, but I don’t think you can see a three-month-old child in her adult years.”

My dad still doesn’t take his eyes off the painting. He tilts his head to the side and then says, “Maybe.” He finally turns around, and a gasp leaves my lips. Marco Kingston was indeed a handsome man. He was tall, well built, and had eyes that could hold you captive for days. They are filled with so much passion, light, and love.

Even with the smudges of paint on his face, it made absolutely no effort to thwart his beauty. He is wearing a white button shirt and dark jeans. He drops his brush and places his hands in his pockets.

“What about the other stuff? Did you find it?”

Vincent nods. “Yup, the orb that you saw in your visions is really true.”

A frown pulls my lips downward.

An orb?

He never made mention of any orbs in his journal. Could that be among the pages that were ripped out? It had to be…

“Can I see it?” Marco asks his brother, who nods and digs into his pocket. He takes out a blue crystal, and I am amazed by its cool glow.

Its light dims and then sharpens every now and then. There is this strange sensation that fills me just by looking at it. Every fiber in my being wants to hold onto it and never let it go.

Marco and Vincent’s eyes lock, and they share a nod. “You know what to do,” my father says, and Vincent smiles.

“Of course,” he says before walking away. Once my father is left alone, he takes one last look at my painting. And then the world around me begins to vanish.

“Wait, daddy!” I call out, but he vanishes into thin air.

The voice of the small boy fills my ears, and his words leave an unsettling feeling within me.

“You must destroy the orb, or everything else will take its place.”

A gasp leaves my lips as my head flies off the table. I sit back in my chair, my chest heaving up and down as I desperately try to fill my lungs with oxygen. Beads of sweat trickle down my head as I think back to that dream.

“No dying today, huh?”

A scream leaves my lips as I snap my head to the side. Alex is sitting on a chair next to my desk, his eyes trained on me closely.

“That was just a quick nap,” I say, and he snorts and then rolls his eyes.

“Right.”

A moment of silence passes between us, and I say, “How would you like to join me in searching for a mysterious blue orb?”