41. Kaisner
KAISNER
T he sky bruises with the first hints of morning, violet bleeding into gray as Paris exhales its last breath of darkness.
I stand motionless on the balcony, the marble balustrade cool beneath my palms, watching as night surrenders to day.
A crisp, biting air slides across my bare chest, but I barely register the chill.
How could I, when Clarissa’s warmth presses against my back, her arms encircling my waist, her cheek resting between my shoulder blades?
Her presence anchors me to this moment, this reality, when I might otherwise drift into the surreal euphoria of what transpired last night.
The memory of flight ripples through my muscles—the stretch and power of wings, the sting of wind against scales, the intoxicating freedom of true form after years of dormancy.
Clarissa shifts, sliding beneath my arm until she faces me. Dawn light catches in her golden hair, turning it into threads of fire. Her sapphire eyes search mine with reverence that makes my chest ache.
“I still can’t believe it,” she whispers, her voice carrying both wonder and fragility, like a prayer. “You’re a dragon, Kai. A real, honest-to-gods dragon.”
The childlike awe in her expression transforms something that should feel monstrous into something holy. I’ve spent my life surrounded by those who feared or coveted what slumbered in my blood. Never has anyone looked at me as she does now—as if I were a miracle made flesh.
My lips curl into a genuine smile. “And it’s all because of you, Liebes .”
Confusion clouds her gaze, her brow furrowing delicately. “I don’t… understand.”
The truth coalesces in my mind with sudden, devastating clarity.
I draw in a deep breath, lungs expanding with air that tastes of revelation.
Below us, Paris awakens—the distant rumble of delivery trucks, the scent of fresh bread rising from boulangeries.
These ordinary sounds frame the most extraordinary realization of my existence.
“All this time, I believed I needed rituals. Blood. Bargains.” My voice drops lower, edged with the shadow of what might have been. “I spent years chasing forbidden magic, convinced that awakening the dragon required sacrifice. The daemon demanded your blood, willingly given.”
Her gaze darkens, the memory of my near-fatal miscalculation hanging in the air like smoke. “Kai…”
I silence her gently, pressing my forehead to hers in a gesture more intimate than any kiss.
Our breath mingles, warm and alive. “But it was you, Clarissa. Your love. Your trust.” Each word falls like a stone breaking the surface of still water, ripples expanding outward.
“You were the key. When we claimed each other, when that bond took root…” My fingers tighten imperceptibly at her waist. “It unlocked everything. The dragon stirred not because of sorcery—but because of you.”
Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, sunlight fracturing through them into miniature rainbows. One slips free, tracing a silvery path down her cheek. “But how?” she whispers. “How could that be enough?”
I catch the tear with my thumb, its warmth seeping into my skin.
“Because you’re my mate,” I say simply, the word inadequate for the cosmic phenomenon it attempts to name.
“My soul recognized yours, and the dragon recognized the bond.” I cradle her face between my palms, memorizing every curve, every line, every freckle across her nose.
“Everything that’s ever been dormant in me—woken by you. ”
Her lips part, trembling slightly with raw emotion. The space between us vibrates with unspoken intensity. “I’m glad I could help,” she says, voice catching. “But don’t forget—your strength made it possible. You held back. You chose me. That matters.”
A notion tugs at the edges of my consciousness—a strange, ephemeral sensation, like trying to recall a word just out of reach. I narrow my focus, probing this peculiar awareness.
“Wait,” I murmur, brow furrowing. “There’s something else.”
Clarissa tilts her head, curiosity brightening her gaze. “What?”
I close my eyes, turning my attention inward. The connection that had flowed between us during flight—effortless, natural—feels muted now, almost nonexistent. I reach for her mentally, forming the thought with deliberate precision.
“Can you hear me?”
When I open my eyes, I find only puzzlement written across her features.
“What do you mean?” she asks, confusion knitting her brow.
“You... don’t hear me now?” I ask aloud, surprised by the hollow absence where her presence had been so vibrant.
“No, should I?” She smiles, but the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re right here.”
I rub my jaw, the scratch of stubble rough beneath my fingers. “Only when I’m shifted,” I murmur. “It was so clear when we were in the air, like our thoughts were interwoven.”
She nods slowly, comprehension dawning. “I felt it, too. Like I was in your head... and you were in mine.”
“It must be the bond,” I say, fascination coloring my tone. “Tied to the dragon. When I shift again, we’ll test it.”
The shrill ring of her phone cuts through the moment. Clarissa stiffens, fumbles for the device, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.
“Sam?” Her voice wavers, uncertainty flooding through. Then her body goes rigid, as if electricity has coursed through her. “What? When?” Her fingers grip mine with desperate strength. “No, I’m... I’m not at home. I’m with Kaisner.”
I watch the emotions flicker across her face—guilt, apprehension, determination. Her throat works as she swallows hard.
“Sam, listen,” she says after a beat, her voice steadier now. “There’s something I need to tell you. About Kaisner and me. We’re... we’re mated. He claimed me. And there’s more. He shifted into his dragon last night.”
She falls silent, listening. Her knuckles whiten where they grip the phone. “I know, I know it’s a lot to take in. But please, can you break the news to Nik gently? It’ll be so much better coming from you.”
When she finally ends the call, her face has drained of color, leaving her almost translucent in the morning light.
“Nik’s back,” she says, the words falling like stones. “He just landed at the private airstrip.”
I tug her near, pressing my lips to her temple, sensing her pulse beneath my touch. Her scent—jasmine and rain and something uniquely her—fills my senses. “How do you want us to handle this?”
She exhales slowly, the air shuddering from her lungs. “I think... we should give him a day to process. Meet with him tomorrow. Is that okay?”
Every instinct screams for immediate action—to claim, to mark territory, to establish dominance. But years of hard-won control assert themselves. This is not about me. This is about her, about what she needs.
“Of course, my love,” I murmur against her hair. “Whatever you think is best.”
Sunlight stretches across the room, brightening the silence between us. It feels like the world dares not intrude on what we’ve become.
I guide her inside, our steps slow as we make our way to the bed.
Clarissa lies beside me, the light gilding her skin, casting amber tones over the curves I’ve come to memorize.
I don’t move. I simply watch her, committing every breath, every rise and fall of her chest, to memory. She is still. Peaceful. Mine.
I should get up, prepare for what’s coming—but I don’t. Not yet.
Instead, I shift closer, my fingers brushing the slope of her shoulder. She stirs, murmuring my name in that sleepy, honey-drenched voice that undoes me every time. “Kai…”
“Ich bin hier, mein Leben,” I whisper, lips trailing against her temple. “Always.”
The morning unfolds slowly. I feed her grapes from a silver tray, her laughter soft as I kiss her ankle, knee, and thigh. Each touch is a prayer, every caress a pledge.
We bathe together in the cedarwood-scented water, her fragrance mingling with mine as I wash her hair, untangling it with newfound patience. She calls me ridiculous, and I smirk.
By midday, we share Drachenstein wine, aged in fire-touched oak. She smiles at the first sip, leans in for more, tasting it from my lips. We toast nothing and everything. Her bravery, my survival, the flame between us.
Evening finds her barefoot in the solarium, wrapped in one of my robes, her silhouette glowing in twilight. I watch her, a pang in my chest. She is the reason I’m whole, powerful… and terrified, because now I have something to lose.
A low thrum hums beneath my skin, the burden of duty and the coming confrontation with Nikolaas. Our bond, my shift—it will be seen as a threat.
And isn’t it, really?
Clarissa turns, sensing the restlessness in my silence. “Kai,” she says, crossing to me. Her hand rests over my heart. “Please don’t shut me out.”
I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her neck. “I’m trying to hold onto this moment,” I murmur. “After tonight, everything changes.”
She looks up at me, eyes steady. “Then let’s make it count.”
And we do. I take her, not in haste, but with ceremony. I mark her with my body, my vow. She is mine. My mate. My queen.
Later, as she sleeps curled against me, I watch the stars. The pulse of the dragon still burns beneath my skin.
Tomorrow, I’ll face Nikolaas Draken, the so-called Last Dragon Shifter. The golden boy whose claim to supremacy I’ve just shattered by simply existing. But tonight... tonight belongs to us.
Hours drift as Clarissa sleeps beside me. I stare at the ornate ceiling, shadows dancing on intricate plasterwork. Her peaceful face undoes me—this woman who not only accepted the beast within me but embraced it. Loved it as part of herself.
I won’t let her suffer for loving me.
The decision crystallizes with brutal clarity. Rising silently from our bed, I dress methodically—selecting a slate-gray suit that feels like armor against what’s to come. Each button, each fold, each adjustment serves as ritual preparation for battle.
When I step into the hallway, Janik materializes from the shadows like a specter, his expression unreadable in the half-light. He stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting instruction.
“Congratulations are due , mein Konig ,” he says, his voice pitched low.
I pause, momentarily thrown. “I’ve not proposed yet.” Then, suspicion flickers. “Janik, how did you?—”
My enforcer harrumphs. “I meant your dragon’s awakening,” he clarifies. “Though the news of a queen is equally welcome.”
A soft laugh escapes me, tension briefly broken. “ More than welcome,” I admit, with an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. “I owe her everything.”
“You are fortunate indeed,” he remarks, but something in his tone shifts, hardening. His posture stiffens imperceptibly.
“What is it?” I ask, instantly alert to the change.
His voice clips each word with military precision. “The Last Dragon Shifter has returned to Paris.”
I straighten my jacket, a predatory gleam in my eyes. “He can say goodbye to that title,” I murmur. “I’m on my way to see him.”
I stop mid-step. “Janik.”
“Yes, sir?”
“When Miss Draken wakes, escort her to Draken Manor.” I don’t ask, I command. “I’ll wait for you there.”
He inclines his head. “Understood, mein Konig .”
Before I descend, I glance at the bedroom door—the threshold where everything I never knew I needed sleeps peacefully.
I’ll face Nikolaas alone. She need not witness the clash of dragons that’s coming.