Page 62 of Wings of Shadow
The casual mention of owning an entire building in Paris is a stark reminder of how little I know about him. Kaisner Drachenstein, dangerous and wealthy beyond measure, is still an enigma.
He must sense my unease because his expression softens. He shifts on the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. His hand hovers for a moment before resting gently on my sheet-covered leg.
His touch grounds me, bringing the night’s events rushing back. “Alexei...” I begin, a whisper escaping my lips, “he tried to claim me.”
“Kill you,” Kaisner corrects, voice hard as steel. His hold tightens imperceptibly on my leg. “The beast had devoured whatever humanity remained in him. He would’ve destroyed you.”
A shudder runs through me at his words. Alexei’s transformed face flashes before my eyes. Kaisner’s right—there had been no humanity left in Alexei in those final moments.
“I… I didn’t realize,” I stammer, the horror of what I narrowly escaped crashing down on me. “I didn’t think he... would ever...”
Kaisner’s expression softens further. He shifts closer. His hand moves from my leg to cradle my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “This world… our world... it’s more dangerous than you know. Monsters hide behind human faces, predators waiting for any sign of weakness.”
His eyes, usually so guarded, are open now, filled with something deeper, more intense. “But I promise you this—as long as I’m around, nothing will harm you. I will burn this city to the ground before I let anyone touch you.”
The fervor in his voice should frighten me. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, safety washing over me despite the dark promise in his words. In this moment, with Kaisner’s hand on my cheek and his vow suspended between us, I feel protected like never before.
But as I look into his eyes, I can’t help but wonder—in a world of monsters and predators, what kind of creature is Kaisner Drachenstein? And what does it mean that, despite everything, I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame?
“I understand this is a lot to process,” he says, his voice low and intimate. He lowers his hand again, resting it on my leg. His thumb traces slow circles on my thigh, sending shivers through me. “You’re safe here, Clarissa. With me.”
I meet his gaze, struck by the sincerity there. “I know,” I whisper, surprised to find that I mean it. Despite everything, I do feel sheltered with him.
His touch slides up, resting on my hip. The heat of his palm burns through the sheet, igniting a fire within me. “There’s so much I want to tell you,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. “So much I want to share.”
My pulse quickens as he draws near. For an instant, I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling in the space between us.
A soft rap at the door breaks the silence, so faint I almost miss it. Kaisner’s head whips around, his body tensing for a fraction of a second before relaxing. He walks to the entrance, opening it just enough to exchange hushed words with someone outside.
When he turns back, a long, sleek garment bag drapes over his arm. The black fabric gleams under the soft light, the zipper catching a glint as he moves. His footsteps are silent on the plush carpet as he approaches the bed.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Kaisner says, his voice a deep, velvety timbre that sends a shiver down my spine. “I took the liberty of arranging an outfit for you.”
He lays the bag on the bed with careful precision, his movements deliberate. The mattress dips slightly under the weight, and I catch a whiff of a fresh floral fragrance emanating from its wrapping.
Kaisner’s fingers trail along the zipper, a teasing gesture that sends a jolt through my body. My pulse quickens, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Why don’t you get dressed?” he suggests, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes the room warmer. “Dinner’s waiting when you’re ready.”
The promise in his voice—of food, yes, but of so much more—hangs in the air. I nod, curiosity building as I wonder what he’s chosen, what the evening holds.
As Kaisner leaves, I unzip the bag, gasping softly at what I find inside. The gown is a masterpiece of midnight blue silk, simple yet undeniably elegant. It fits like a dream, as if it were made for me. Knowing Kaisner, it probably was.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Kaisner’s gaze darkens as he takes me in, his look a blend of appreciation—and something more primal. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
He leads me to a dining room that takes my breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of Paris, the Seine snaking through the city, Notre-Dame rising majestically in the distance. The table is set for two, gleaming china in soft lighting, a bottle of wine already breathing.
As we sit, I stare at the elegant food before me, my stomach twisting at the thought of eating. The events at the club replay in my mind—Alexei’s blood on my hands, the dullness in his eyes as life faded from them. How can I eat?
The scrape of chair legs pulls me from my thoughts. Kaisner shifts his seat closer, his presence overwhelming—comfort and quiet authority that make my pulse race.
“You need to eat,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. When I shake my head, he leans closer, his gaze darkening with concern and something more possessive. “Clarissa, you haven’t eaten all day. I won’t watch you waste away.”
“I’m not hungry,” I protest weakly, but Kaisner is already reaching for my fork. He spears a piece of perfectly cooked fish, bringing it to my lips.
“Just a few bites,” he murmurs, his tone brooking no argument. “For me.”
The intimacy of the gesture makes my cheeks flush. Part of me wants to resist, assert my independence, but there’s something oddly comforting about his insistence. About being cared for so thoroughly, even if his methods are a bit… forceful.
When I finally open my mouth and accept the morsel, his eyes flash with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he says softly, already preparing another bite. “Now, some water.”
