Page 29 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Empire in Crisis

Kane

I watched Willow sleep for longer than I should have, memorizing how the moonlight caught in her dark hair, how her lips parted slightly with each breath, how the mate bond between us hummed with contentment even in her unconsciousness.

The fruit crown she'd so ridiculously crafted lay abandoned on her nightstand—a whimsical token of the night we'd shared.

It physically hurt to leave her.

My watch vibrated for the seventeenth time in as many minutes.

Seventeen urgent messages from Atlas, each with increasingly alarming subject lines.

I'd muted the notifications around the time Willow had first pressed her lips to mine, thinking whatever corporate crisis had erupted could wait until morning.

Dawn was still hours away, but duty called with its usual merciless timing.

I slipped from her bed with the practiced silence of centuries, retrieving my scattered clothing from her floor.

Every fiber of my being wanted to crawl back beside her, to wake her with kisses and continue exploring the intoxicating connection we'd established.

Instead, I dressed in the darkness, cursing softly when I couldn't find one of my cufflinks.

"Sir," Atlas's voice whispered through my watch speaker, kept deliberately low, "the board has called an emergency session. Your presence is required immediately."

I cast one last longing look at Willow's sleeping form, fighting the urge to wake her, to explain. But what would I say? That duty called? That the CEO of Kane Industries and king of the Eastern Court couldn't indulge in lazy morning-afters, no matter how desperately he might want to?

The mate bond protested as I moved toward her door, sending an actual physical ache through my chest. New bonds were always the most demanding—the need to stay close nearly overwhelming in the first days. I could only imagine how much worse the separation would feel for Willow when she woke alone.

"I'll make it up to her," I promised myself, though the words felt hollow even as I thought them.

The drive back to the city passed in a blur of racing thoughts.

Atlas filled me in through the car's speakers, each update worse than the last. The merger with the West Coast coven was officially on hold.

Four more executives had begun showing transformation symptoms similar to Marcus's.

The board was in an uproar, threatening to invoke rarely-used clauses to remove me from leadership positions.

My corporate empire, built over centuries with meticulous care, was teetering on the edge of chaos.

Yet all I could focus on was the lingering scent of Willow on my skin, the echo of her laughter in my ears, the warm pulse of the bond between us even as the miles increased.

"Sir, your heart rate is elevated and your cortisol levels indicate significant stress," Atlas noted as we neared the gleaming Kane Industries headquarters. "Perhaps a moment of meditation before facing the board?"

"What I need is for vampires to stop turning rabid, for my board to remember who built this company from nothing, and for the West Coast coven to honor our agreements," I growled, adjusting my tie with more force than necessary. "Meditation won't fix any of that."

"No, but it might prevent you from showing fangs during the meeting," Atlas replied drily. "Given the current climate, that would be... inadvisable."

The AI had a point. I closed my eyes for the remainder of the drive, focusing on steadying my breathing and calming the storm of emotions raging within.

The mate bond had definitely affected my usual iron control—I'd never struggled this much with maintaining composure, not even in the early days of establishing my territory.

"Compartmentalize," I murmured to myself. "Focus on the immediate crisis. Willow will be there when this is resolved."

The words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

By the time I strode into Kane Industries' executive floor, I'd locked my personal feelings behind a carefully constructed wall of professional detachment.

My face revealed nothing but cool authority as I nodded to the nervous-looking executive assistants who scattered before me like leaves in a storm.

Margaret met me at the door to my office, tablet in hand and concern etched in the fine lines around her eyes. "Sir, they're waiting in the main conference room. It's... not good."

"When is it ever?" I replied, accepting the tablet she handed me and scanning the urgent reports.

"There's something else." She hesitated, which was unlike her.

Margaret hadn't hesitated to speak her mind in the fifteen years she'd worked for me.

"Dr. Chen sent preliminary blood work from the affected executives.

Their cellular structures are changing in ways that match historical records from the Great Transition.

It's not just behavioral—they're physically reverting to blood drinkers. "

I stopped scanning the reports, my attention fully captured. "How many total cases now?"

"Twenty-seven confirmed across all facilities. Dozens more reported but not yet verified. Other clans are reporting numbers as well." She kept pace beside me as I moved toward the conference room. "Security has established containment protocols, but if this continues to spread..."

She didn't need to finish the thought. If the transformations continued at this rate, we'd have a catastrophe on our hands.

Blood drinkers were manageable when they were born that way, taught control from the beginning.

But fruit bats suddenly transforming with no preparation, no understanding of how to handle the bloodlust? It would be chaos.

"Double security at all blood storage facilities," I instructed. "Relocate any turning executives to the lakeside compound where we can monitor them safely. And get Dr. Chen whatever resources she needs to find a solution. Whatever it costs."

"Already done." Margaret's efficiency was one of the reasons I kept her close. "The board is particularly concerned about the timing coinciding with the West Coast negotiations. They're suggesting... connections."

Of course they were. The board had opposed the merger from the beginning, viewing the West Coast covens as unstable partners at best, potential usurpers at worst. They'd be looking for any excuse to back out without appearing weak.

I paused outside the conference room door, straightening my shoulders and fixing my most imperious expression in place. "Let them suggest whatever they like. I built this company. I'll handle the board."

Margaret's expression softened momentarily. "Of course you will, sir. Though perhaps with a bit less fang-showing? It’s unusual of you to show a lack of restraint like this."

I realized my fangs had partially descended without my noticing—a concerning lapse in control. Forcing them to retract, I nodded once and pushed open the conference room doors.

The chaos inside silenced immediately at my entrance.

Twelve vampires in impeccable business attire sat around the massive conference table, their expressions ranging from concerned to openly hostile.

Victor, my head of security, stood at the far end with a holographic display of affected facilities glowing red before him.

Remy, the financial director, clutched a stack of reports so tightly the paper was crumpling beneath his fingers.

Several seats stood conspicuously empty—the executives now in isolation due to transformation symptoms.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said smoothly, taking my place at the head of the table, "I understand we have a situation that requires attention."

"A situation?" Remy's voice cracked with tension.

"The West Coast coven has halted all merger negotiations.

Four of our executive team are in isolation exhibiting blood-drinking tendencies.

Our stock has dropped twelve percent in pre-market trading.

This isn't a 'situation,' Kane. It's a catastrophe. "

I arched an eyebrow at his use of my first name rather than the customary "sir" or "Mr. Drake." Interesting how quickly formality dissolved in crisis.

"The transformation incidents are being handled," I replied calmly. "Dr. Chen is leading the research team, and we've established containment protocols at all facilities."

"With all due respect," Victoria Adams, one of my oldest board members, cut in, "containment isn't a solution. We need to understand why this is happening now, after centuries of stability."

Her piercing gaze held mine, and I had the distinct impression she knew more than she was letting on. Victoria had been around during the original Great Transition, one of the few who remembered the chaos firsthand.

"That's precisely what Dr. Chen is investigating," I assured her, though my certainty felt hollow after what Margaret had shared. If the cellular changes matched historical records, we were facing something far more serious than a random outbreak.

"There's another matter," Victor spoke up, his security background evident in his clipped tone. "The timing. These transformations began exactly when you started spending considerable time in Haven's Cross."

My expression remained neutral even as the mate bond hummed with sudden awareness. "Haven's Harvest is one of our most profitable subsidiaries. It was also the birthplace of this company. My presence was required for the festival."

"Your presence at a flower shop was required?" Victoria asked, her tone deceptively mild. "Or perhaps with the witch who owns it?"

The conference room went deadly silent as all eyes turned to me. I kept my face impassive, though inwardly I was calculating exactly how Victoria might have obtained this information and who needed to be fired for the breach.

"My personal matters are not relevant to this discussion," I said coldly.