Page 23 of Wings of Shadow
Plucking the well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliette from her hands, I set it back on the shelf behind her in one fluid motion—caging her between the solid oak and the warmth of my body.
“What do you say we continue this discussion over dinner?” I propose, my voice a low, velvety purr. My eyes lock with hers, dark and intense, a silent promise of intrigue. “I know a quaint little bistro not far from here. Nothing fancy—just good food and... stimulating conversation.”
The edge of my mouth lifts in dark amusement as I watch her reaction. I can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, weighing the potential risks against her evident curiosity. The anticipation is delicious.
“Unless, of course, you have more pressing engagements this evening?” I add, a calculated challenge in my tone.
Her chest rises and falls with a subtle shudder. I perceive her resolve wavering, the crackling attraction between us impossible to deny. The momentary catch of her plush lower lip makes my breath hitch as she considers her answer.
A foreign sensation creeps into my core then—unfamiliar, almost laughable in its absurdity. Almost.
The revelation slams into me.
She might actually say no.
For a fleeting instant, I find myself strangely disarmed by her hesitation, by the power she seems to wield over me without even realizing it. It’s a strange emotion, this momentary loss of control, this notion of being caught in someone else’s thrall. I, who have always prided myself on my ability to manipulate and dominate, am now left reeling by the depth of my response to her.
It’s unsettling, this newfound vulnerability, this chink in the armor of my carefully crafted persona. I’ve never allowed myself to be swayed by emotion, never permitted the weaknesses of the heart to interfere with the cold, hard logic of my ambition. And yet, here I am, my pulse racing and my thoughts scattered—my sanity hanging from a single reaction of a woman I barely know.
When the faintest nod from her comes, I beam victoriously, stepping back to offer my arm in a chivalrous gesture, masking my inner turmoil with a facade of confident charm. “Excellent. Then it’s a date, Liebes.”
As she tentatively loops her arm through mine, I pull her snugly against my side, savoring the delicious shiver that courses through her. The chase is exhilarating, but I have a feeling the prize will be exponentially more so.
This evening is shaping up to be even more delightful than I expected.
14
CLARISSA
Dragons, I’m learning, have a talent for making the impossible feel inevitable. My heart hammers as Kaisner’s car cuts through rain-slicked streets. I still can’t believe I said yes—yes to dinner, yes to him. The man who’s haunted my thoughts since the moment we met is taking me somewhere secret, somewhere private. Just the two of us.
A thrill surges through me. So does a flicker of doubt.
What the hell am I doing?
The rational part of me chants danger. Kaisner Drachenstein is power and shadows and whispered warnings. But the part that answers him—the part that wakes when he’s near—doesn’t care.
Outside, city lights blur past the windows, refracted through streaks of rain. I breathe deep, steadying myself. For better or worse, I’ve already stepped into his world. There’s no turning back now.
The car eases to a stop before a nondescript building. Mist drapes the Parisian evening in a ghostly veil, rain soft but steady. Kaisner’s out in a blink, umbrella in hand, opening my door before I even reach for it.
“Allow me,” he says, offering his hand.
I take it.
The chill of the night vanishes the second he pulls me close under the umbrella. His warmth wraps around me, grounding. Dangerous. Addictive.
We cross slick cobblestones toward a modest entrance. A discreet sign above the door reads L’Étoile Cachée—The Hidden Star.
A gust of wind grabs the umbrella just as he opens the door, spraying us both with cold droplets. I laugh. I can’t help it.
Kaisner’s answering smile is rare and sharp. Real. For just a moment, his carefully constructed mask slips, revealing something genuine beneath the polished exterior. The unguarded expression transforms his face completely—softening the harsh angles, brightening his eyes, making him devastatingly handsome in a way that has nothing to do with his usual calculated charm.
He guides me through the doorway, his hand a whisper of warmth at the small of my back.
I steal a glance at Kaisner’s chiseled profile, the memory of Cassandra summoning him to Deveraux Manor flickering through my mind. It steadies me, soothes the edges of my unease. If she trusted him enough to call him into that sacred place, then maybe I can trust him for one evening of... what? Normalcy?
A wry smile tugs at my lips. As if anything involving Kaisner Drachenstein could ever be considered normal.
