Page 14 of Kazimir

Yuri smothered a cough. Amara’s lips flattened.

The man tilted his head. “You walked in here without fear. Why?”

The question floored me. The answer was simple, but also not: “Oh, there was fear. I was silly with it. It was better in here than it was outside,” I said. “Someone was chasing me.”

He nodded, like that made sense. “And you have no idea where you are.”

I shook my head.

“Fascinating,” He straightened and turned to Amara. “Leave us.”

“But, Sovereign…” She stopped when his eyes flashed, cold and hard as frost on a corpse.

“I said, leave.”

Amara was out the door in three steps, heels barely clicking, composure cracked at the edges. Yuri remained silent and watchful.

The man returned his attention to me. “What is your name?”

I swallowed hard. “Devon Wade.”

“Devon,” he repeated, trying it out, the v softening into something almost gentle. “I am Kazimir Kozlov. This is my house. You have trespassed.”

His voice was low, not a threat, just an ancient statement of fact. It should have terrified me. Instead, I felt a weird relief, like the rules were suddenly clear.

“Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I didn’t know.”

“That is by design.” He studied me a moment longer, then extended his hand. I stared at it, unsure if I was supposed to shake it or kiss his ring, or what. In the end, I just let him help me up; my body lighter than I remembered.

The moment his hand touched mine, something inside me filled with warmth. I gasped, and he frowned as if he’d felt it too.

He didn’t let go. Instead, he held my hand in both of his, turning it palm up, tracing the lines with a strange delicacy. “Your blood is old,” he said. “Older than you know.”

I tugged my hand back, uncomfortable but also unwilling to break the contact. “I don’t remember anything before six months ago,” I said. “Hospital said head injury, but they didn’t find anything definitive.”

Kazimir absorbed this, then glanced at Yuri, who shrugged as if to say, “Hell if I know, boss.”

He looked back at me, expression unreadable. “Come upstairs. We will speak in private.”

My gut told me not to, but my feet disagreed. I followed him up the wide, carpeted staircase, my sneakers making pitiful noises in the hush. At the top was a hallway lined with odd tapestries. We passed two women in tight leather dresses, laughing with their heads tipped together, and they stopped dead when they saw us, their laughter strangled. They both inclined their heads and muttered, “Sovereign.” Then, as we continued I also heard one of them say, “He is so fucking hot,” and the other hissed, “Shut up, he’ll hear you,” and he definitely did.

At the end of the hall, Kazimir opened a door to a conference room. Everything in it was dark: a table of obsidian glass, eight black leather chairs, a single silver tray in the center holding a pitcher of water and a stack of perfectly aligned glasses.

He gestured for me to sit. I did, and immediately noticed my reflection in the tabletop. Compared to him, I was a smudged charcoal drawing. He sat across from me, hands folded, posture both predatory and elegant.

Yuri entered last, closing the door. He stayed standing, guarding the entrance.

Kazimir started with the basics. “Do you have identification?”

“No. Without a birth certificate, that’s pretty impossible.”

“Friends? Family?”

“None,” I swallowed. “The hospital checked for missing persons. If I had family, they don’t care that I disappeared.”

He nodded, as if this confirmed his suspicions. “Any unusual abilities?”

I laughed, a short snort. “Umm… I can do the shit out of math. I think I maybe went to college or something. I could be an accountant.”