Rowan Blackboard Novels & Stories

His notebook was already open. He looked every bit the student Rowan intended him to be. At precisely two o'clock, Elder Rowan rose. "Good afternoon." The room gradually fell silent. "We'll begin with the remaining matter carried over from yesterday." He glanced down at the agenda. "The Blackwood Apprenticeship Programme." Several councillors opened the same report on their folders. I reached for my own folder. I'd read through it twice the previous evening. The figures were still fresh in my mind. Elder Rowan continued.

Rowan declared, grinning as we made our way toward the classroom. We walked at a leisurely pace, no real rush even though we were already twenty minutes late. The professor would understand-either that, or she just didn't care. Mrs. Middleton always made it easy on us. When we finally entered the classroom, her glare met us before anything else. Rowan flashed her a quick, apologetic smile, while Grayson sighed and nudged me. "We had an emergency meeting with Coach," I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it. It wasn't my fault, and it sure as hell wasn't Rowan's or Grayson's. The professor didn't argue. She just nodded and waved us to our seats.

He clearly hadn’t expected Killian to push back so fast. “Alpha Blackwood,” Rowan started, voice still smooth but tighter now, “with all due respect—” “You waltz in here with fourteen months of your own shady messages laid out on this table,” Killian cut in, voice flat and hard, “and your best defense is an old picture of some dead girl who kinda looks like my security consultant?” He turned to Hale. “How is this relevant to the actual investigation? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like a desperate delay tactic.”

Not a single reminder of the days I’d been absent. My eyes widened, throat tightening. “Mr. Blackwood… this—this isn’t right. I missed days, I—” Rowan’s expression didn’t flicker. He just stood there, towering, unreadable, gaze locked on me like he could see straight through my protests. “I know,” he said flatly. I swallowed, the envelope shaking faintly in my hands. “Then… why?” He stepped closer again, the air between us shrinking until I could feel the faint warmth radiating off his body. My back pressed fully into the chair behind me now, nowhere left to retreat. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl, intimate in its intensity.

since sophomore year and still hasn’t aged a day). He’s writing something on the board in perfect cursive when I slide into my seat between Remy and Seras. Kayo, Aki, and Riku take the back row like they own it. Rowan turns, coffee mug in hand, and his eyes lock on me for half a second too long. Rowan (casual, but I hear the weight): “Miss Morau. Welcome back. Try not to break reality before lunch.” The class laughs because they think he’s joking.

"The Warlord has locked down the entire residential wing." I didn't wait for her to finish. A sudden, volatile wave of frustration flooded my chest as I turned on my heel, my ivory wool gown sweeping against the Persian rugs as I marched straight toward the executive boardroom. I slammed the heavy oak door open, the wood groaning on its iron hinges, to find Rowan standing over his mahogany desk, his massive, muscular frame completely tense, his midnight-black irises blown out with an unhinged, dangerous fury as he reviewed a glowing crimson monitor manifest.

CHAPTER 38 RULES IN SOFT VOICES ISLA “I don't know… is Barack Obama Black?” I don't know when or how, all I knew was the words were flowing out of my mouth without any hindrances. When the hell did I get so bold? Rowan's lips curved into a wicked smile as she stepped even closer than he was. His head dipped, his lips trailing my ears until he was taking my earlobes into his mouth. “Someone has gotten bolder.”

“I agree with Raven. You learn from him, for the time being, how business works. Or we have to take strict decisions to keep us safe from the losses you have been making.” Work under Raven? Was this Rowan saying? Just work? Not selling myself to pay him back? My blood boiled with double statements of Raven Blackwood. But I couldn’t say more in front of him. I just wanted to smack Raven, in his face instead. I nodded silently. I didn’t know what to say or do right now. And all I felt was that remaining silent was the best thing right now, until I figured out what Raven Blackwood planned to do next. The next morning…

"Then he will decline them." Elara let out a quiet breath. That, at least, was honest. The door opened with a soft click. Rowan entered without a greeting that suggested familiarity. He wore a dark suit again, perfectly fitted, his tie straight, his hair neat. He nodded once at Dr. Moore, then looked at Elara. "Ms. Wynn." "Mr. Blackmere." He took the seat at the head of the table. Not aggressive, not theatrical. Simply where he belonged, in a room built to center him.