Page 4 of Wings of Shadow
Footsteps.
Soft, deliberate, echoing in the silence like a promise. But these aren’t Juliette’s graceful strides or Nik’s familiar gait. No—there’s something different about them. Heavier. Commanding.
And then the presence hits me.
A force, unseen but potent, brushes against my senses like a cold wind from a forgotten crypt. The air thickens, laced with power and the scent of something primal. My breath stills. My pulse leaps.
Whoever is approaching isn’t ordinary. They’re not just powerful—they’re sovereign. They radiate an aura of absolute control, a dominance that demands submission and respect.
Every fiber of my being goes still, instinctively aware that this person walks a path few dare tread.
The footsteps are getting closer now, the sound mingling with the blood rushing in my ears. But suddenly, just as they appeared, they stop.
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, a thick, heavy silence that seems to press down on me from all sides. And then, a voice, low and smooth and full of dark promise, whispers through the stillness.
3
KAISNER
The click of my Italian leather shoes against the polished floor announces my arrival as I stride into the marbled foyer of Deveraux Manor. Cassandra, ever the epitome of Parisian elegance, glides toward me, a warm smile gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Kaisner, darling. The elusive Master of Shadows himself. Welcome to Paris,” she purrs, air-kissing my cheeks. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I return her smile with a charming one of my own, my eyes already scanning the opulent surroundings. “Cassandra, a pleasure, as always. Paris seems to agree with you more than America ever did.” My words are smooth, practiced, but my mind is elsewhere—two steps ahead in the game we play in our unnatural world.
As Cassandra leads me toward the study, regaling me with tales of the city’s latest scandals, a flicker of movement catches my eye. There, on the threshold of the library, stands a vision that steals the breath from my lungs. A beautiful woman, with hair like spun gold and eyes that could shame the brightest sapphires, is carrying a stack of books that seem to dwarf her delicate frame.
I watch, transfixed, as she moves with a grace that seems almost otherworldly. But then, as if the universe itself is conspiring to bring us together, one book slips from her grasp, tumbling to the floor with a soft thud.
Without a second thought, I excuse myself from Cassandra’s side and make my way toward the fallen tome. Bending down, I retrieve the book, my fingers brushing against the worn leather cover. As I straighten, I find myself face to face with the beautiful stranger, close enough to catch the faint scent of jasmine that clings to her skin.
“I believe this belongs to you,” I murmur, extending the book toward her.
Our fingers brush as she takes it from my hand, and in that moment, a jolt of electricity courses through me, setting my nerves alight. It’s as if a circuit has been completed, a connection forged that defies explanation. I feel it rush up my arm, spreading through my body until it reaches my very core, igniting a fire I thought long extinguished.
I search her face, desperate for some sign that she feels it too—this inexplicable pull, this sense of destiny. But she merely offers a shy smile, a delicate blush staining her cheeks. “Thank you, monsieur,” she breathes, her voice like a caress.
I open my mouth to respond, to introduce myself, to beg her to tell me her name. But no words come. For the first time in my life, I, Kaisner, the man who prides himself on his silver tongue and quick wit, am struck speechless.
She dips her head, a curtain of golden hair hiding her face as she hurries away, clutching the books to her chest like a shield. I watch her go, my hand still tingling from her touch, my mind reeling from the encounter. As she disappears from the room, I hear her laugh, a sound so pure and enchanting that it pierces through the very core of my being.
Cassandra’s voice breaks through my reverie, urging me to join her in the study. But as I follow, my thoughts remain tethered to the beautiful stranger and the inexplicable connection I felt in those brief seconds.
Who is she, this woman who can unravel me with a single touch? And what twist of fate has brought us together under this roof?
As I settle into the plush armchair, Cassandra’s voice washes over me, her words laced with genuine warmth. “Kaisner, my dear friend, I can’t tell you how much it means to have you here. Paris has been sorely lacking in good company.”
I incline my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. “Cassandra, you know my friendship is unwavering. We’ve been through too much together for it to be anything less.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Cassandra’s brow furrows, a flicker of confusion passing over her delicate features. “Congratulations? Whatever for?”
I lean back in my chair, my eyes never leaving hers. “Your engagement to the Ursa King has become quite the topic of gossip, even in the far reaches of Germany. It seems you’ve managed to secure quite the alliance.”
A hint of a flush creeps into Cassandra’s cheeks, but she maintains her composure, offering a polite smile. “Ah, yes. The engagement.” She purses her lips and swallows hard. “It’s a... a fortunate match, to be sure.”
I don’t miss the slight hesitation in her voice, the way her enthusiasm seems forced, almost rehearsed. Interesting. Perhaps there’s more to this engagement than meets the eye.
I choose not to press the issue, not yet. There will be time enough to unveil the secrets behind Cassandra’s impending nuptials. For now, I have more pressing matters to attend to.
“But I must confess,” I continue, steering the conversation back to the purpose of my visit, “there is another reason for my presence here tonight. Rumors of a dragon shifter have reached my ears. You know how my curiosity is piqued by such tales.”
