39. Kaisner
KAISNER
C onsciousness returns to me in waves, deliberate and disorienting, like surfacing from a fathomless abyss. At first, there’s only warmth—real, grounding, unmistakable. A delicate, trembling hand laced with mine.
Then the pain. A slow, dull throb beneath my skin, radiating from my shoulder, coiling like a fiery ember in my bones. It’s a phantom sensation at first, distant, almost forgettable—until I inhale. The scent of sandalwood, old parchment fills my lungs, and something sweet—a familiar trace.
Clarissa.
My eyes flicker open. Dim candlelight stabs into my pupils, sharp as a blade.
The world slowly sharpens—ornate black wooden beams overhead, shelves lined with grimoires and arcane artifacts, velvet drapes shrouding the windows.
My room. Safe. Yet the acrid stench of brimstone lingers in my memory, a cruel reminder that not all dangers can be locked away.
I shift, only to be met with a jolt of pain that burns through my shoulder like molten steel. A sharp breath hisses between my teeth, and immediately, her grip on my hand tightens.
“Kaisner?” Her voice, barely a whisper, is frayed, as though she’s been sitting beside me for hours. Waiting, hoping.
I force my gaze toward her. And for a moment, I forget to breathe.
She’s utterly undone. Golden hair, once pristine, spills over her shoulders in damp waves. Her sapphire eyes are luminous with unshed tears, rimmed with exhaustion, but there’s something else—relief. A quiet, aching solace that settles in my chest, twisting painfully.
“You’re…” My voice is raw, barely more than a rasp. “You’re here.”
A tremulous smile ghosts over her lips. “Of course I am.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
For a long moment, I simply watch her, memorizing the way candlelight glows against her skin, the way the shadows play against the elegant line of her throat. I’ve seen her in the throes of passion, in the heat of battle, but like this—worn, but steadfast—she has never looked more divine.
And then, like a sickness crawling through my veins, reality creeps in.
Images slam into my mind in ruthless succession—Azrakan’s wretched form coiling in the summoning circle, the flickering runes scorching into the stone, my reckless ambition tearing through my being like wildfire.
The way her body tensed when she realized what I was prepared to do.
The moment my carefully woven plan unraveled.
The moment I nearly lost her.
A tremor grips my limbs, sharp and involuntary. I make an attempt to sit up, to confirm that the damage Azrakan inflicted is real, but before I can move, her hands are on my chest, pressing me back against the pillows with surprising force.
“Easy,” she murmurs, voice thick with quiet command. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
I search her face, thoughts sluggish, tangled. “But… how?” My gaze flickers downward, half-expecting to see my shoulder torn open, but instead, I find only smooth, unmarred skin. “The daemon… it?—”
“I healed you,” she says simply, but the words land heavily between us. “I’m a witch, remember?” A hint of mischief, barely there, veils the raw emotion simmering beneath.
My breath hitches.
She saved my life.
The notion should seem foreign, impossible. Kaisner Drachenstein does not need saving. Yet as I look at her, reality hits me like lightning.
Clarissa—my Clarissa—stood between me and the daemon’s wrath. She risked everything for me, when it should have been the other way around. And gods help me, I nearly…
“Clarissa,” I choke out, gripping her hand like a lifeline. My pride is a splintered ruin, but none of it matters. “I?—”
She silences me with a single touch, pressing her fingers lightly to my lips.
“Shh,” she whispers, shaking her head. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
The words are meant to comfort, but I see the fracture in her gaze, the burden of everything unsaid. We are not okay. Not after this. The daemon may be gone, but its shadow lingers, a chasm between us, filled with broken trust and buried fears.
The bed dips as she shifts beside me, her hands still cradling mine, her expression turning uncertain. “After everything… I didn’t know what else to do. So I called Janik.”
I exhale slowly. Janik—trustworthy, competent Janik. Of course, she’d turn to him.
“He brought us here. Made sure we were safe,” she continues, but there’s an undertone beneath her words, something unspoken.
She doesn’t say it, but I already know— you weren’t safe before.
The shame I’ve buried for so long claws its way up my chest. My hunger for power, my arrogance, blinded me. I thought I could control Azrakan. That I could outmaneuver a creature born of darkness. Instead, I nearly damned us both.
I take a sharp breath, steadying my voice. “Clarissa… what I did—what I was willing to do—” I pause, jaw tightening. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
A shadow flickers across her face, but she says nothing.
My throat constricts. “But you have to know… I never meant to put you in danger.” I close my eyes, swallowing hard.
“I thought I could outplay Azrakan. I thought I could have it all. My pride, my conceit—” A humorless laugh escapes me.
“I was the fool. And you… you’re the only thing that truly matters. ”
Tears slip down her cheeks, silent but burning.
“Oh, Kai…” she whispers, and my name on her lips nearly undoes me.
She collapses against me, and I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. She is warmth, life, salvation, and I clutch her to me as if she might disappear between my fingers.
“I love you,” she murmurs into my chest, her words fragile yet fierce. “And I would do anything for you.”
A shudder racks through me as I grasp this foreign sensation, this terrifying feeling.
Devotion.
A gift I don’t deserve.
I pull back slightly, enough to tilt her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I’ll find another way,” I vow, my voice hoarse, gravelly. “I’ll win Nik’s respect without risking you, Liebes . I swear it.”
Her eyes search mine, finding the truth there. Slowly, she nods. “I know you will.”
Her faith in me is overwhelming. In that moment, it dawns on me—I will move heaven and earth to be the man she deserves.
I shift, intent on rising, but my body rebels, a fresh wave of exhaustion crashing over me. The mattress creaks as she gently presses me back down.
“Not yet,” she says, her fingers brushing against my temple, her touch tender. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”
I exhale, surrendering to the moment.
I am Kaisner Drachenstein—warlock, kingmaker, a man who has walked through the abyss and returned.
And right now, I am simply hers.
As we cling to each other in the flickering candlelight, I know the road ahead will be far from easy.
There are consequences, trust to rebuild.
But with Clarissa in my arms, I’m ready to face whatever comes next.
Because now, I understand what true power is, and it has nothing to do with dragons or demons.
It’s this. Us. Love.
And it’s worth fighting for.
Her gaze locks with mine, and I pull her closer, urging her to glide beside me on the bed. Her body molds against me like it was always meant to. I lean in, my lips brushing against hers softly at first, savoring the moment, the warmth of her breath mingling with mine.
Then, with a growl of need, I deepen the kiss, pulling her in, the fire of her desire igniting against me. My hands thread into her hair, tilting her head as I want more, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her with a hunger I can no longer control, demanding everything she has.
She gives it willingly.
Her sweetness is addictive. I drink from her like a dying man, our tongues entwining in a delirious rhythm. Candlelight flickers over our bodies, casting our passion in gold and shadow, painting it sacred.
But it’s not enough.
I need more—more of her skin, more of her sounds, more of her soul.
My hands fumble at the buttons of her gown, impatience setting in. I tear the fabric, exposing her ivory flesh until she stands before me in nothing but lace and vulnerability.
“Kai…” she breathes, her voice trembling on the edge of need, cheeks flushed with heat. “Can we… Can you…?”
I take in every inch of her exposed form—every curve, every line. My blood roars in my veins. She doesn’t need to finish the question.
“Oh, I can,” I growl, seizing her with the kind of grip that says mine . “And I will—until your body knows nothing but me.”
She shivers, anticipation crackling in the air, and I sweep aside the final barrier. My hands glide over her thighs, hips, as I lay her back on the bed. And she straddles me, skin flushed against my touch.
I take my time, memorizing her with mouth and tongue, but the fire within me burns too hot.
With one last, forceful heave, I pin her beneath me with deliberate, possessive intent.
The movement sparks a sharp, burning pain searing through my shoulder—Azrakan’s wound might no longer mar my skin, but dark magic always leaves a trace.
I grit my teeth, refusing to let weakness dictate my actions. No. I take the pain, seize it, and twist it into something else. Fuel. Hunger. A fire that burns hotter than before.
“You smell so fucking good right now.” My breath is ragged against her skin, every word edged in lust. “I can almost taste your need—thick and heady, like the sweetest perfume.”
She shivers, a pulse fluttering at her neck. “Take it…” she moans. “Take everything.”
A satisfied rumble vibrates in my chest as she clutches my shoulders, instinctively yielding to me. “Mm… I will,” I rasp, rough and possessive. “I’m going to devour you, Clarissa—ruin you so beautifully you’ll beg me to do it again.”
Her breath comes fast, lips parted, eyes dark with need—but it’s the way she looks at me, as though I’m the only force in the world that matters, that nearly breaks me.