Page 63 of Wings of Shadow
He reaches for my glass, cupping the back of my neck as he brings it to my lips. The gesture is tender yet controlling, and I find myself yielding to his care despite my frazzled state. With each bite he coaxes into me, each sip of liquid, the numbness recedes, replaced by a growing awareness of his presence, his touch, his unwavering attention.
I’m struck by the surreal nature of this situation. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I watched a man die. Now I’m having dinner with his killer, dressed like I’m attending a gala.
Grief, guilt, and worry gnaw at my insides.
“Clarissa,” Kaisner’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He’s watching me intently, concern etched in his face. “Talk to me. What’s going through your mind?”
The floodgates open. “It’s my fault,” I whisper, the remorse I’ve held back spilling over. “If I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t danced with Alexei?—”
“Stop.” Kaisner’s tone is firm but gentle. He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. The comfort of his touch anchors me. “Alexei lost control of his beast. It’s a risk all shifters face, especially those who don’t train rigorously to govern their animal side.”
I look up, meeting his gaze. “But you’ve never… I mean, your blood carries the dragon lineage, yet you’re always self-possessed.”
A shadow passes over Kaisner’s features. “You’re a constant challenge,” he says softly, darkly teasing. “What you saw with Alexei… it could happen to any shifter who lets their guard down.”
The gravity of his words sinks in. I think of Nikolaas, of all the shifters in my acquaintance. Have they all been fighting this internal war without me knowing?
“What happens now?” I ask, fear creeping in as I recall the chaos at the club, the body on the floor.
Kaisner’s expression hardens. “It’s been handled,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The media’s been silenced, and any news of this incident will be buried. You have nothing to worry about.”
I’m tempted to demand more details. But part of me is relieved. The thought of being at the center of a supernatural scandal is too much to bear.
As we eat, the conversation drifts to lighter topics. Kaisner tells me about the building, about his business ventures in Paris. Despite the bleak emotions that threaten to overwhelm me, I find myself relaxing, drawn in by his charm and wit.
It’s only as we finish dessert that I realize something: throughout the entire evening, I haven’t had a single vision. No flashes of the future, no cryptic images dancing on the fringes of my consciousness. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had one—especially when I’m with Kaisner.
The realization sends a shiver through me. Is it the stress of recent events blocking my gift? Or is there something more at play?
I look up to find Kaisner watching me, a question in his eyes. For a moment, I consider telling him about my absent visions. But something holds me back.
Instead, I offer him a small smile.
Kaisner’s expression softens, and he takes my hand again. As our fingers intertwine, I sense that familiar spark of connection. Whatever’s happening with my visions, whatever dangers may be lurking, in this moment, I feel safe. Protected.
The warmth of his breath ghosts across my skin, igniting a fire that spreads from my core to my fingertips. For a moment, I’m tempted to bridge the minuscule distance between us, to lose myself in his embrace. His lips are so close to mine that I can almost taste him, the promise of his kiss an intoxicating lure.
But the rational part of my mind reasserts itself. “I should go home,” I whisper. The words pain me even as I speak them, but they’re necessary. “I need... some time to process this.”
Kaisner pulls back slightly, his maroon eyes searching my face. I see a flicker of disappointment quickly masked by understanding. “Very well,” he murmurs. He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss that makes my heart flutter. “I’ll have a car sent for you when you’re ready.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. As I rise, about to return to the bedroom and gather myself, Kaisner’s words stop me.
“Clarissa,” he says.
His usual mask of cool indifference has slipped away. In its place is an expression of such raw passion that I’m stunned.
“I... I need you to know,” he begins, his voice rough with emotion, “how much it means to me that you’re alive. That you’re here, safe.”
His words shatter me to the core, bringing tears to my eyes. “When I saw you in danger at the club, I realized...” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I realized that I can’t lose you. You’ve become... essential to me. In a way I never expected, never even thought possible.”
A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. I’ve never seen Kaisner like this—vulnerable, open, his carefully constructed walls crumbling before my eyes. It’s both beautiful... and terrifying.
“Kaisner,” I breathe, at a loss for words. How can I express the storm of emotions he has stirred in me?
He stands, closing the distance between us in two long strides. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb gently wiping away my tear. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “I just... I needed you to know.”
For a while, we stand there, lost in each other’s eyes. A charged atmosphere hangs in the air, vibrant with unspoken words and possibilities. I’m tempted to stay in this moment forever, safe in the cocoon of Kaisner’s presence.
