POV - James
The afternoon stretched long and quiet. After lunch, the company floor was bathed in that muted light that made everything feel suspended.
I could hear her faintly from my office — her soft voice as she greeted people, the rhythmic click of her heels on the marble floor.
She'd chosen to spend the afternoon working upstairs, on my floor. She said she needed silence and focus; I suspected she simply felt at peace near me.
And God, I felt the same.
Through the glass wall, I could see her at her desk — focused, brow furrowed, her fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard. Every so often, she'd catch me looking, and we'd exchange those small, secret smiles that felt like stolen lightning.
It was ridiculous how natural it had become — loving her in plain sight.
By six, most of the building was empty. The last rays of daylight spilled across the floor, dust motes drifting like slow sparks in the air.
I stood by the window, pretending to check a report, but my thoughts were already elsewhere — with her, always with her.
When she finally stood and gathered her things, I turned, leaning casually against my desk.
"Leaving already?" I asked.
She smiled. "Someone told me work-life balance was important."
"Sounds like terrible advice."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You sound like my boss."
"I am your boss," I reminded her, walking closer. "Which means I get to make terrible jokes and questionable requests."
Her brows lifted playfully. "Like what?"
"Like this one," I said, stopping just in front of her. "Come home with me."
She blinked, smiling, but I saw the faint blush that touched her cheeks. "Again?"
"Yes, again," I said simply. "In fact, I'm starting to think this whole inviting you every day thing is ridiculous. You should just move in. Save us both the suspense."
She laughed, eyes sparkling. "You're serious?"
"Deadly," I murmured, taking her hand. "I don't want to sleep another night without you beside me."
Her breath caught, and the way she looked at me — soft, trusting, utterly open — made something primal stir in my chest.
"All right," she said quietly. "I'll come."
The drive was calm, the city fading behind us. She talked about her day — a few difficult reports, a funny comment from Maya — and I listened, savoring the sound of her voice.
I'd never realized how soothing it could be, just listening to her exist.
By the time we reached the house, the forest had fallen into darkness, stars winking faintly through the trees. The moment she stepped inside, the air changed — her presence filled the place with warmth.
Dinner was already waiting — roasted vegetables, salmon, white wine. Simple, elegant, perfect.
We ate together, laughter and soft conversation weaving between us.
But beneath it, I could feel the current building — the pull of what had to happen tonight.
After we finished, I poured her another glass of wine and met her eyes. "Elena," I said softly.
She looked up, the smile fading slightly at my tone. "What is it?"
"I need to ask you something," I said, fingers brushing the rim of my glass. "And I need you to answer honestly."
Her expression softened. "All right."
"Do you trust me?"
She nodded without hesitation. "With everything."
I leaned closer. "No, Elena. I mean really trust me. With your life. With everything you are."
Her eyes didn't waver. "I do," she said. "I trust you completely, James. I love you."
The words struck through me like light. For a heartbeat, the world went still.
"I love you too," I whispered. "More than you can possibly understand."
I stood, extending my hand. "Come with me."
She hesitated only long enough to search my face — whatever she saw there was enough. She rose, placing her hand in mine.
I led her through the quiet hall to the chamber beneath the house — the old stone floor cool under our steps.
Candles flickered in the corners, their flames bending toward her like they recognized her already.
"This place…" she whispered. "It feels different."
"It's older than the house," I said quietly. "And it's waiting for you."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't let go of my hand.
The basin in the center shimmered faintly with silver light — the water infused with salt, herbs, and moonstone dust, just as Lucian had instructed.
I turned to her, voice barely a breath. "Step in."
She hesitated. "James—"
"I'm here," I said. "Nothing will hurt you."
She nodded once and stepped into the pool. The glow brightened instantly, swirling around her ankles, rising higher as if pulled by her heartbeat.
She looked at me, eyes wide. "What's happening?"
"The truth," I murmured. "Yours."
From my pocket, I drew the pendant. Wrapped in black silk, its weight hummed against my palm — alive, ancient.
I unwrapped it slowly, and the crescent caught the candlelight.
"This belonged to your mother," I said softly. "It knows you."
Her lips parted, trembling. "My mother?"
"Yes," I whispered. "And it's time it found its way back to you."
I placed the pendant in her open palm. The second her skin touched the silver, light exploded around us — not harsh, but soft and endless, filling the chamber with ribbons of moonlight and warmth.
She gasped — a sound caught between awe and disbelief — as the light coursed through her veins like living fire.
Silver ribbons of energy traced her skin, delicate and fierce, spiraling up her arms, across her chest, until they converged at her throat where the pendant lay, pulsing in unison with her heartbeat.
The glow deepened, weaving with her own essence until I could no longer tell where the pendant's light ended and hers began.
It was as if the world itself had drawn breath through her — as if every shadow, every whisper of air, every drop of water in the chamber recognized her name.
"Elena," I breathed, stepping closer. The energy radiating from her made my pulse stutter. It was beautiful — terrifying — inevitable.
Her knees buckled. I was there in an instant, my arms closing around her as though the earth itself would crumble if I didn't hold her.
"Breathe," I murmured against her hair, steady, anchoring. "You're safe. You're all right."
Her hands clutched at my shirt, desperate, grounding herself through me. "James…"
"Shh." My thumb brushed her cheek as I tilted her face toward mine. The light danced in her eyes — not brown now, but molten silver, alive and wild. It shimmered with something ancient, something that made my breath catch.
"You're awakening," I whispered.
"Awakening?" she repeated, her voice trembling like the echo of a prayer.
"Yes," I said softly, reverently. "To what you've always been. To what the world forgot."
The air around us trembled, the scent of salt and rain heavy in every breath. Candle flames wavered, bending toward her like flowers reaching for sunlight.
I pressed my forehead to hers, the heat of her skin searing through me, the rhythm of her pulse matching mine.
"You are not ordinary, Elena," I said, my voice barely more than a breath. "You never were."
Her breathing came faster, shallow, uncertain. "Then what am I?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak. I just looked at her — the glow softening around her shoulders, the faint shimmer clinging to her hair like moonlight. The woman in my arms was both fragile and infinite, and I'd never seen anything so achingly beautiful.
"You're mine," I said finally, my voice rough with emotion. "But more than that — you are power, and light, and everything the darkness fears."
Her gaze locked on mine, trembling between fear and wonder. "James…"
"Breathe," I whispered again. "It's only beginning."
The light began to fade then, receding slowly into her skin, leaving faint traces of silver that shimmered like starlight beneath her flesh. The chamber fell silent — only the echo of our hearts, beating in time, and the soft hiss of candles fighting the quiet.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw, memorizing every line of her face, the softness of her lips, the disbelief in her eyes melting into trust.
The world felt impossibly still — suspended, breathless — as I realized what had truly awakened.
Not just her power.
But us.
Whatever lay ahead — prophecy, blood, fate — none of it mattered.
Because in that moment, with her heartbeat echoing against mine, I knew one simple truth:
This was not the end of the story.
This was the beginning of everything.