Page 26 of Wings of Shadow
He takes a measured sip of wine, and when he speaks again, his voice carries the heaviness of centuries. “It was another Drachenstein—my great-great-great-grandmother Eliza—who made the impossible decision to disband the Unnatural Brethren in 1632.”
“Thus ending the Shadow Wars,” I breathe, stunned. The name stirs echoes from the old lessons of witch lore I’d almost forgotten.
“Mm.” He nods, something like awe in his expression. “She was sixteen. Barely more than a child—and yet, she saw what the rest of us could not. If one of us fell, all would.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. His grip on the glass tightens ever so slightly.
“The dissolution of the Unnatural Brethren saved countless supernatural lives,” he murmurs, “but it also marked the end of an era. We scattered. Our communities turned inward. Secrets became the walls we lived behind.”
He falls quiet, the weight of history settling between us. And in that silence, I glimpse something raw beneath his polished surface. Not just a keeper of legacy, but a man burdened by it.
I take a slow sip of wine, the rich taste grounding me. “You speak of your family’s legacy with such reverence,” I say gently. “But I sense it’s more than just pride. It feels... personal. Heavy.”
His carefully constructed facade wavers. Just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. I see it then: the flicker of something raw and unguarded. A hidden vulnerability that strikes deeper than I expect, rattling something inside me.
“The burden of legacy,” he says at last, almost to himself. Then he looks at me, eyes dark with something fierce and unrelenting. “It’s a double-edged sword, meine Kleine. Our family’s power... our unique heritage... it’s both a gift and a burden.”
He draws a slow, steady breath. “And sometimes, I wonder if the price of carrying it is more than even I can pay.”
Without thinking, I reach out, covering his hand with mine. The contact sends a jolt through me, but as before, there’s no rush of premonition, no glimpse into his past or future. It’s both frustrating and oddly freeing.
“I understand,” I whisper, aware of my own family’s expectations. “The pressure to live up to a name, to be everything that everyone expects you to be. It can be overwhelming.”
Kaisner’s gaze meets mine, and in that moment, the carefully constructed walls around him seem to crumble. The polished, charismatic figure he presents to the world fades away, revealing a man of startling complexity—vulnerable, conflicted, and achingly human. My breath falters, caught between shock and disbelief at this sudden, intimate revelation.
“Clarissa,” he murmurs, his fingers intertwining with mine, his voice rough with emotion. “You see me… truly see me, in a way no one else ever has.”
The raw honesty in his voice, the depth of emotion in his eyes, makes my heart swell. “And I like what I see,” I confess, surprising myself with my boldness.
His answering smile is genuine, lighting up his entire face. It’s a transformation so striking that I feel as if I’m falling, tumbling headfirst into something fathomless and utterly terrifying.
The night seems to slip away from us, our conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. We dance from topic to topic, sharing laughs and moments of understanding that draw us ever closer. The candles burn low, the piano plays on and on, and I find myself wishing this enchanted evening could stretch into eternity.
But reality, as always, must intrude. “I suppose we should be heading out,” Kaisner says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Surely, you’re expected at Draken Manor.” There’s a note of reluctance in his voice that sends a thrill through me. “Though I must admit, I’m not eager for this evening to end.”
I nod, a clash of disappointment and anticipation warring within me. “It has been... quite extraordinary,” I breathe.
The Parisian night embraces us as we step outside, the cool air a shock after the bistro’s pleasant intimacy. Above us, stars twinkle like scattered diamonds, bearing silent witness to the shift I feel deep in my bones.
Kaisner’s hand is warm and steady in mine as we walk to his car. The attraction between us is still there, a kiss of lightning igniting my being. But now there’s something more—a connection that transcends the physical, a meeting of minds and souls that leaves me breathless.
As I gaze up at the star-strewn sky, I allow myself to hope, to dream of paths I’d never dared consider before. Yes, the future is uncertain. But here, in this moment, with Kaisner by my side, anything feels within reach.
One thing, however, is beyond doubt. Tonight, I’ve glimpsed the heart of Kaisner Drachenstein. And in doing so, I fear I may have lost my own.
15
CLARISSA
The sleek car glides to a halt before the manor’s imposing gates. Kaisner steps out first, moving with predatory grace to open my door. As I emerge, his phone buzzes with an insistent tone. A shadow crosses his features as he glances at the screen.
“Forgive me, liebling,” he says, genuine regret coloring his voice. “Duty calls—an urgent matter that requires my immediate attention.”
He gestures toward another figure who stands beside the vehicle—tall, with dark eyes and a scar along his jaw. The man’s posture is alert, his gaze constantly scanning our surroundings.
“Marcus handles my security. He’ll ensure you reach your door safely.” Kaisner’s voice softens as his fingers brush my cheek. “Until next time, Clarissa.”
Before I can respond, he presses a lingering kiss to my hand, then turns away. I watch as he slides into the backseat with fluid grace.
