36. Kaisner
KAISNER
A storm rages outside, rain slashing against the mansion’s towering windows.
Thunder growls, a deep pulse vibrating through stone and glass.
I pace from my study, across the foyer, restless, like a caged beast, a crystal tumbler of aged whiskey clutched in my hand.
My mind churns with the complexities of supernatural politics and the gala’s possible aftermath.
Then, a knock.
It cuts through the storm, sharp and unexpected. I freeze, instincts on edge. No one disturbs me at this hour—not unless it’s urgent, or dangerous. The staff retired hours ago, leaving the mansion cloaked in shadow and silence.
I set the tumbler on the marble credenza with deliberate precision, the crystal catching what little light filters through the darkened windows.
I move toward the door, slow and controlled. Ready for anything.
But nothing could prepare me for the sight that awaits.
Clarissa. Drenched, her midnight gown clinging to her body, golden hair plastered to her face. Her eyes—precious sapphires that haunt my every thought—are wide, red-rimmed, glassy with emotion. Vulnerability. Desperation. Fear.
“Baby…” The word escapes me, unbidden, raw. I take her in fully, concern slicing through me. She trembles, fragile beneath the chill.
I reach out, cupping her face, fingers cool against the warmth of her flushed cheeks. She leans into me, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her skin is ice, but she melts against me all the same.
“Come inside,” I murmur, voice low, urgent. Protective.
I draw her in, shutting the door against the howling wind.
She stands in my foyer, dripping onto the black marble.
Her dampness soaks into my shirt as I gather her close.
She doesn’t resist. Instead, she folds into me, silent, as though her usual resilience has drained entirely.
It stirs something dangerous in me—a dark, primal urge to destroy whoever has made her like this. To raze it to ash.
But first, I will comfort her. First, I will give her my strength.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her rain-scented hair. My arms tighten around her. “You’re safe now.”
She looks up, her gaze a maelstrom of emotions. And then, she rises on tiptoes, and without a word, her lips find mine.
The kiss is desperate, fevered. A plea and a promise. Any thoughts of restraint crumble as I answer with the same urgency. My hands seize her waist, holding her like something precious. Mine.
Her body trembles beneath my touch, wet silk clinging to her skin as I scoop her into my arms. She buries her face in my chest, and I sense the rapid, uneven beat of her heart.
Past marble and glass, I carry her upstairs, shadows chasing us into my sanctuary—my bedroom.
I ease her into the warmth by the hearth, the flames licking the air, wrapping us in their heat.
Kneeling beside her, I steady her with my hands at her waist, reluctant to let any distance grow between us.
She’s trembling, and I pull her closer, my fingers lingering on her soft skin as I study her features for any sign of what’s tormenting her.
I brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek, my thumb tracing the delicate curve of her face, soft but possessive.
The hurt I see in her eyes slices deep, tugging at something primal.
Her presence, usually a balm to the darkness within me, now fuels it.
The mere thought of someone causing her pain sets my blood ablaze.
She averts her gaze, a delicate hand covering her lips.
Her vulnerability cuts me open. Whatever brought her here, whatever demons she’s fighting, I silently vow to keep them at bay. Tonight, she needs me, and I’ll be damned if I let her down.
“What is it, Liebes ?” I ask, my voice sheer velvet, betraying the rage buried beneath. My fingers trace her jaw, the curve of her neck, cataloging every tension, every flicker of pain. “Tell me.”
Her lips part, but her gaze wavers. She shivers, and I drape a throw over her shoulders. She clutches it tight, and I draw her closer, my body instinctively curving around her to shield her from the world itself. The dragon in me stirs, answering her pain with an urge to possess.
Mine, it growls. Mine to protect. Mine to avenge.
Clarissa takes a shaky breath. “It’s… everything,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “The gala, the secrecy… It’s all too much.” She pauses. “And then, there’s Nik.”
The mention of Nikolaas sets my teeth on edge. I tamp down the heat of my anger.
“He called and…” she adds, fresh tears brimming.
“What did he say?” I press, crouching before her, reading every flicker of emotion in her expression.
She hesitates. “Nik found out you were involved in the gala. He’s... not pleased.” Her voice carries careful understatement. “And now he says you’ve offered your art collection to our foundation?” Her brow furrows, confused.
I nod sternly. “I signed the contract this morning, lending my full art collection for an exhibition later this year.”
It seems Nikolaas keeps a close eye on me too.
Clarissa’s eyes widen, surprise flashing across her face. For a moment, a flicker of excitement dances on her features, but it quickly fades. Her lips press into a thin line, gaze darkening again.
“Kaisner,” she whispers, “Nik also mentioned you’ve officially refused to support his claim as Dragon King.”
I inhale sharply, my shoulders tensing. “I have,” I admit, the words heavy on my tongue.
Her breath hitches, fingers twisting the throw. “Why?” she asks, her voice cracking.
“Baby girl, please understand.” My fingers brush against her jaw, tilting her chin so she’s forced to meet my gaze.
“I bear your brother no ill will. But my lineage, and the clans under my protection, will bow to no one’s rule…
” My touch trails slowly down her arm, reverent, before it falls away, “…except mine.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and final. I watch her absorb them, the rise and fall of her chest quickening. Her fingers curl tighter into the fabric as though it could shield her from the inevitable.
She pulls back slightly, a hand rising to her throat in a nervous gesture. Her eyes dart around the room, searching the shadows for answers. When she speaks again, her voice trembles.
“My brother is furious,” she says, the phrase tumbling out in a rush. “He’s connecting dots I never knew existed.”
My jaw clenches. “And what does he think I’m up to?” I ask, my tone rough.
She hesitates, eyes dropping to the rug. Her fingers twist the blanket. “He thinks you’re playing a dangerous game. That you’re using me to get to him.”
I curse under my breath. Of course, he would see it that way. “And you?” I ask, my gaze sharp. “Do you believe that?”
Her eyes meet mine—luminous with uncertainty and pain. “I don’t know what to believe.”
The quiet admission lands like a knife in my ribs.
I pull her into me, burying my face in her damp hair. “You know me better than that, mein Herz .” My hands roam over her back, soothing, claiming. “I would set the world ablaze for you, and I’d burn it twice if anyone dared to touch you.”
She stills in my arms, her breath catching, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers clutch the blanket, her knuckles pale beneath the fabric. For a moment, her gaze locks with mine—searching, uncertain—but it’s gone just as quickly.
Her voice is a whisper, raw and heavy. “He’s adamant that I stay away from you.” The words settle between us like ashes after a fire, soft but suffocating. “You should’ve heard him, Kaisner. I’ve never heard him so angry. So… suspicious.”
“As he should be,” I confess, my voice low. Then, seeing the worry in her eyes, I quickly add, “But let’s not drag politics into this conversation, my love. Not now.”
She draws her knees closer, wrapping the blanket tighter, a shield against more than just the cold. Her gaze is distant, fixed on the crackling flames. Shadows flicker across her face, highlighting the tension in her jaw, the fear in her eyes.
“I’m afraid,” she breathes, barely audible beneath the storm. “Afraid of what might happen if he finds out about us. Hours ago, I wanted nothing more than to scream to the world that we’re together. But now?—”
I shift closer, the warmth of the fire against my skin, hardly noticed. I reach out, brushing her damp hair from her face, my fingers lingering longer than I should.
“Come here,” I murmur, my breath warm against her cool skin. “I won’t bite... not unless you beg.” The words rumble through me, teasing, meant to comfort, to pull her back from the edge of despair.
She doesn’t move at first. Then, slowly, a reluctant smile flickers across her lips—fleeting, but real. She moves toward me, the blanket slipping as I pull her into my arms. The moment teeters between fear and desire, the storm outside and the storm within.
I hold her tight, sensing the tension in her body, the depth of her worry. But here, in this small pocket of warmth and shadow, I’ll shield her from it all. If only for tonight.
Nikolaas’ suspicions are dangerously close to the truth, even if he doesn’t know the half of it. “Listen to me, Clarissa. Whatever happens, I won’t let anyone come between us. Not Nikolaas, not anyone. Do you understand?”
I capture her mouth in a tender kiss, my hands roaming over her back, her hips, relishing the contact of her. “Every moment at that gala was torture,” I murmur against her lips. “Seeing you, but not being able to touch you, to hold you…”
She sighs, her hands fisting in my hair, holding me close. “I know,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. “I could feel your eyes on me all night. It took everything I had not to run to you, to hell with appearances.”
“What we have…” I begin, warm and reassuring. “It’s worth fighting for. I know it’s hard now, but I promise you, we’ll find a way. Whatever is to come, we’ll see it through.”