22. Kaisner
KAISNER
I pull myself away from her warmth, and straighten my clothes as I compose my features into the impassive mask of a sovereign.
“What is it?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain even.
Janik takes in our disheveled state, the flushed cheeks, the lingering heat in the air—but doesn’t comment.
“We’ve received word from our spies within rival territory,” he begins, his voice clipped and professional as always.
“They’ve uncovered plans for an imminent attack on your position—tonight. ”
Lust burns away in an instant, replaced by the cold rush of adrenaline. My mind shifts gears, already calculating contingencies and counter-strategies.
I turn to Clarissa. My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones like a farewell and a brand. “Go,” I tell her, the command a knife to my chest.
Her eyes widen, confusion and hurt flickering across her features. I memorize every detail—the way her lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the tremor in her lower lip, the trust that still shines in her gaze despite everything.
My voice drops, rough and guttural. “I won’t let this world drag you into its filth. Not mine. Not theirs… I’d rather tear it apart than let it touch you.”
The words echo with finality. I trace her features with shaking fingers, committing her to memory like a prayer I’ll carry into whatever darkness awaits.
“You don’t look back, Clarissa. Not until I come for you. And I will come for you.”
She stiffens, her sapphire gaze searching mine. But there’s no time for explanations.
“Which faction?” I demand, my voice sharp with urgency.
Janik’s usual stoicism cracks, just slightly. It tells me all I need to know. “Intelligence suggests a joint operation, Mein Konig . The Silver Claw Pack is leading the charge, but they’ve enlisted the Shadowcat Syndicate.”
Scheisse. Brute force and dark magic. A dangerous combination. A clever one. I have to admire their strategy, even as I plan their downfall.
Clarissa is still here, her presence both an anchor and a complication. I catch the shadow of worry in her expression as she glances between us.
“Kaisner, what’s happening?” Her voice is steady, but fear lingers beneath it, and that hurts like hell. “Who are these people?”
I meet her gaze, torn between the instinct to shield her and the knowledge that ignorance could get her killed. “Remember when I told you there were things about me you didn’t know?” My voice softens. “This is one of them. I have… powerful enemies.”
“But why? What do they want?” The innocence in her question is almost painful to hear.
“To destroy me,” I say simply. “To take what’s mine.”
The words carry a significance she may not fully grasp, but I see the realization dawn in her eyes. She is mine now, too. The thought of these factions even setting their sights on her ignites a feral rage within me.
I turn back to Janik. There will be time to talk later. Now is the time for war.
“Initiate Protocol Hellfire,” I command, my tone leaving no room for hesitation. “And get word to the Reaper—I’m calling in that favor he owes me.”
Janik inclines his head and steps away to make the call. I exhale sharply, turning back to Clarissa. The burden of leadership presses down on me, yet in this moment, all I see is her.
“I meant what I said,” I murmur. “You need to leave. I can’t protect you and fight at the same time.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. I, Kaisner Drachenstein, admitting I can’t do something? It would be laughable, if it wasn’t so damn annoying.
Her sapphire eyes flare with defiance. Fear lingers there, true and tangible, but it’s overshadowed by a determination that fills me with a pride I’ve never known. This is the woman who has captured my heart, who stands tall in the face of danger.
“I won’t leave you,” she whispers.
Four simple words, and they unravel me. In them, I hear everything unspoken, every promise yet to be made.
I seize her in a desperate kiss, raw and consuming, pouring into it everything I can’t bring myself to say. Her lips are a perfect fit, her scent—jasmine and rain—searing itself into my memory. The taste of her, the feel of her, will haunt me long after this night is over.
When we finally part, she surprises me. Her delicate hands cup my face with a tenderness that threatens to undo me completely. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, locking onto mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
“Stay safe,” she murmurs, tracing the curve of my cheek with her thumb. “Whatever happens, promise me you’ll stay safe.”
I press a kiss to her palm, knowing I cannot promise what she asks. In my world, promises are sacred, binding. To vow safety would be foolish. So I say nothing.
My stare locks with hers, trying to convey everything I cannot say. The depth of my feelings, the fierce protectiveness that burns within me, the regret at having drawn her into this dangerous world of mine.
I turn to Janik. “Escort Lady Clarissa back to Draken Manor. Take Marcus with you.” My voice is harsher than I intend, but I can’t afford weakness now. “Double the guard. No one lays a hand on her. Verstanden? ”
Clarissa flinches, caught off guard by the shift in me.
She hasn’t yet seen this side—the cold, ruthless king.
The man forged by blood and war. Being constantly on high alert would be the life to expect should she choose to accept me as her mate.
Oh, but she would have nothing to fear then.
Not while I’m around to care for her and make her the happiest woman alive.
Janik bows his head. “Your Majesty.”
“Marcus,” he calls over his shoulder, gesturing to the man standing near the doorway. “Stay with Miss Draken while I bring the car around. Too many eyes on this street.”
Marcus steps forward, his expression unreadable. “My lady.” He extends his arm to Clarissa.
For the briefest moment, she hesitates before placing her hand in his.
I watch as she walks away, her midnight-blue gown shimmering under the chandeliers, burning the image into my memory. My jaw tightens as possessiveness surges through me. Another man escorts her from my sight, but it is my name that lingers on her lips.
I force myself to remain still, to resist the urge to rush after her, to take her in my arms one last time. Instead, I linger, my eyes never leaving her.
Only when she’s gone do I move, turning to face the storm that’s brewing.