Betrayed Heiress: My Second Chance Mate is A Lycan King

Aira’s POV

“So, you woke up in a graveyard?” Uncle Mason asks, and I nod. He throws his head back and bursts out laughing. Uncle Damon shakes his head lightly, a smile playing on his lips. “Yours is actually quite better. Remember when Betty woke up in the middle of the ocean?”

Everyone at the table chuckles except me. I just look lost among them. “Who is Betty?” I ask.

“One of your aunts. She is in Russia right now; hopefully she drops by soon,” Vincent explains, and I nod slowly. Putting a fork of lasagna into my mouth, I let their words sink in.

“So, you all wake up in strange places when our powers are about to unlock?” I ask them, and Uncle Mason shakes his head negatively., picking up a handkerchief to clean his lips.

“Not all of us. Some of us just have strange dreams or visions. Right now, it may not be clear to you, but each awakening reflects what exactly our power entails. Like your aunt Betty, who woke up in the middle of the ocean, she has the power to change the tides; she can control all water bodies and bend them to her will. I, on the other hand, simply received a dream where I was in a furnace of fire but could not be burned. The next thing I knew, I was creating fire from my fingertips,” he explains, and my eyes grow wider than saucers. This was all just so amazing.

I look at Uncle Damon and ask, “What powers do you have? And did yours come as a dream too?”

“No, mine came as a very unfortunate experience,” he says, his hands meeting his nape nervously. “I was working at a site, and the whole structure just came tumbling down. Just me and two people beside me weren’t crushed by the impact. That’s how my powers of stone came to be.”

At this point, my jaw was on the floor. That did not sound like a pleasant experience at all. My gaze shifts to Vincent, and I find myself asking, “What about you? What are your powers?”

The corners of his lips tilt upward a bit. “Guess,” he says, and just before I could open my mouth, a gust of wind blows my hair.

Ah, go figure.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Of course.

My head shakes with amazement. I was still having a hard time trying to process everything. “But how is this possible? So none of us are wolves? Where did these powers even come from? And is our family the only ones who have them?”

Uncle Damon rolls his eyes, then releases a groan. “Oh, so many questions.”

Uncle Mason slaps his twin over the head. “Don’t be so rude. She has every right to ask questions. She is unfamiliar with everything; she didn’t get to grow up with the knowledge just like the rest of us.”

Uncle Damon massages his possibly aching head and says, “Fine, fine. I am sorry.”

Vincent clears his throat, and the table falls silent shortly after. It is clear that he did not appreciate his brother’s bickering. He turns to me and says, “Well, no, we are not wolves. But you are part wolf, considering that your mother was a full-bred werewolf. But your father was just like the rest of us-wolf-less but gifted with the supernatural abilities of the moon goddess. You see, we are her descendants, and each of us is blessed with a unique ability to make up for not having wolves.” He explains, and I nod slowly as my brain assimilates all this new information.

“So are all our powers different, or do we sometimes get similar ones?” I ask further.

Vincent shrugs. “Sometimes they are different. Sometimes they are not. It’s all just super spontaneous, really. But some say that even though your powers may differ, parents pass down a tiny fraction of their powers to their children.”

For a moment, I stay silent, a thought lingering in my mind. “What about my father? What power did he have?”

“Marco’s power was a bit… different from the rest of us. He had the power to foretell the future. He would have visions, or dreams. Sometimes he would see the future without knowing he did. You see he had a love for painting and the arts. So his paintings ninety percent of the time portrayed future events,” Vincent explains and my mouth falls open.

So that is how Camille knew I would be naturally good at painting. And that painting I saw at the arts gallery. The one where I saw a girl in the middle of the graveyard at the full moon, and I later figured out it was me. I didn’t exactly paint it but it said I did. Then it just… vanished. Perhaps it was a vision?

Do I have my father’s powers?

Vincent’s eyes narrow as he watches me carefully. “You have grown quiet; is anything the problem?” he asks, and I tell him about my experience at the art gallery before I woke up at the graveyard.

“Well, it’s settled then. You have Marco’s powers,” Uncle Mason says with finality while Vincent strokes his jaw.

“No, I do not think so. Marco’s powers did not include him sleepwalking into forbidden lands; she may just have a fraction of his powers,” Vincent says, and I can tell that the wheels in his head were spinning faster than ever before. For a moment, I caught all three men giving each other knowing looks; there was something they were not telling me.

“I believe Marco always had a journal where he wrote down tips and findings about his powers. Perhaps that could help her,” Uncle Mason inputs, and Vincent nods.

“Yeah, that is a good idea. Do get it for her; the faster she learns how to control her powers, the better,” Vincent says, and Mason nods before leaving the table.

“Thank you, Uncle Vincent. I really do not know what I would have done without your help,” I say, and for the first time, Vincent smiles at me. It wasn’t warm, nor was it cold.

It was just a plain smile.

“What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t help my precious little niece?”