Chapter 153: Dip It in Sugar

Chapter 153: Chapter 153: Dip It in Sugar

Chapter 153: Dip It in Sugar

Cyrus Calder stared at the dead smart lock.

No matter how many times he touched the panel, nothing responded.

Before he could turn around, the temperature behind him seemed to rise another degree.

"Baby, do you really want to leave that badly?"

Rhea Maddox’s voice came from behind him, unexpectedly affectionate.

That familiar sense of wrongness returned immediately.

Cyrus remained facing the door for another second.

Would it be too late to apologize for underestimating her?

When he finally turned, Rhea was standing several steps away.

A few strands of hair had fallen loosely across her forehead, but the overall effect was anything but messy. With the smile on her face and the police uniform still fitting her with unnerving precision, she looked even more striking than usual.

Cyrus found that deeply unhelpful.

He could keep fighting.

That was technically an option.

The problem was that Rhea had already shown strength that did not match what he expected from a normal human. If she had anything else hidden, Cyrus had no idea what the outcome would be.

Even if their strength were roughly equal, he was still a high school student facing an experienced detective.

Believing he could simply overpower her would be stupid.

Cyrus kept his voice steady.

"Is it too late for me to drink that glass now?"

Rhea shook her head.

"You have two choices now. I feed it to you, or you put on the collar."

"You can feed me instead."

He answered immediately.

Rhea caught his hand and guided him back toward the kitchen island.

The drink she had made for him was still sitting where she left it.

Cyrus reached for the glass.

Rhea picked it up first.

She took a mouthful but did not swallow.

Cyrus stared at her.

Then Rhea started walking toward him with the drink still held between her lips.

A bad possibility entered his mind.

She could not seriously be planning to make him drink it from her mouth.

The distance between them disappeared.

Cyrus raised his free hand on instinct and pressed his palm over her mouth before she could reach him.

His cool hand was the only thing separating their faces.

Up close, he clearly saw irritation flash through Rhea’s eyes.

A red light flashed with it.

The change came almost immediately.

Her dark hair turned vivid red, and the color in her eyes shifted with it. Heat rolled through the apartment as though someone had opened an oven door.

Cyrus felt his stomach sink.

He had prepared for the temperature as best he could after the bathroom, dampening the layer beneath his clothes so the heat would be easier to tolerate.

The preparation helped.

It was nowhere near enough.

Cyrus started to move away.

Rhea shoved him in the chest.

Something caught behind his legs at the same time, and he dropped directly into the chair behind him.

Rhea stood over him in her transformed appearance.

"I did not really want you to see me like this."

Her voice carried genuine anger now.

"But you keep rejecting me over and over, and it is starting to make me furious."

She leaned closer.

"Do you even know how many times you have rejected me?"

Cyrus had no useful answer.

If he included the flirting at The Full Moon Lounge, the number was probably too high to count.

Apparently his hand over her mouth had finally ignited every complaint she had been storing.

Rhea’s voice sharpened.

"If I were actually lacking compared with other women, maybe I could accept it. But anyone with eyes can see that I am not."

She pointed at herself.

"Tell me honestly. Is there something about me that is worse than everyone else?"

Cyrus could not say there was.

Rhea was undeniably exceptional by any ordinary standard.

Beautiful, capable, confident, employed, and apparently rare-blooded on top of everything else.

Cyrus stayed quiet.

He had the strong feeling that telling her he had simply become desensitized to beautiful women would make the red spread beyond her hair and eyes.

His silence only irritated her more.

Even now, Cyrus’s expression remained controlled enough that Rhea could almost see her own frustration reflected back at her.

For one ugly instant, she wanted to damage that calm.

The thought passed.

She did not act on it.

Instead, Rhea’s voice lowered.

"You cannot even give me a reason."

The anger in her expression loosened into genuine confusion.

"Even when you admit there is nothing wrong with me, you still refuse me. Why is that?"

Cyrus finally answered.

"Because forcing something does not make it sweeter."

Rhea narrowed her red eyes.

Then she gave up on asking.

"I will dip it in sugar."

Cyrus stared at her.

The room became hotter.

The damp fabric beneath his clothes was no longer cool. Heat had already spread through it, weakening the one small advantage he had prepared.

A trace of urgency entered Cyrus’s eyes.

He had read about a rare-blood line like this.

The Firebird line.

According to the material he had seen, fewer than five true Firebirds were believed to exist in the same era.

How had he somehow encountered one personally?

More importantly, why did it have to be the bloodline that countered his own so perfectly?

Frostborn struggled with excessive heat.

Firebirds tolerated it better than almost anything and could apparently raise the temperature around them without effort.

What kind of terrible escape route had he stumbled into?

If the apartment kept heating up, Cyrus knew exactly what might happen.

His body could regress.

That possibility was far worse than losing a fight.

He had already learned from Daphne what could happen when the wrong person saw him in that vulnerable state.

He was not willing to gamble on Rhea reacting better.

Strangely, the discovery also strengthened one conclusion.

Rhea would make an excellent safeguard against Isolde.

If her heat could suppress him this easily, then having a Firebird capable of opposing another dangerous rare-blood might be far safer than relying on ordinary protection.

That future advantage did nothing to solve the current problem.

Cyrus felt his strength draining as the room warmed.

While he was still deciding what to say, Rhea lifted the white collar.

She fastened it around his neck.

Cyrus resisted, but this was her apartment, her temperature, and increasingly her advantage.

The balance had shifted too far.

Rhea braced one knee against the chair and lifted the attached lead.

Before Cyrus could react properly, she leaned down.

He turned his face and kept his lips closed.

The attempt failed.

Rhea pulled back, visibly more agitated.

"Stop rejecting me like that."

Cyrus tried to speak.

Rhea reached for the glass again.

She took another large mouthful and immediately leaned in before he could get a sentence out.

This time, she forced the drink past his resistance.

Cyrus coughed when the sweet liquid caught in his throat.

Some of it spilled onto his clothes.

Only then did he understand something important.

There was almost no alcohol taste.

This was not a well-mixed cocktail hiding its liquor.

It was basically sweet juice made to look like one.

Rhea had not been drinking.

She had planned this while completely sober.

That realization made Cyrus’s thoughts accelerate.

Rhea had hidden her rare-blood identity extremely well. If she had not transformed herself, Cyrus would never have known.

Now she had exposed that secret voluntarily.

He knew what she was.

That gave him another route.

The same general method he had used with Daphne might work here too, although the wording would have to change.

If he could get a chance to talk, he might still turn this situation around.

Rhea pulled away.

Cyrus immediately tried to speak.

The lead tightened around his neck.

He had no choice but to stand before he lost his balance.

"Wait, you need to listen..."

Rhea tugged again.

"I am not waiting now."

She led him toward the room where she had previously asked him to restrain her.

Cyrus entered and immediately noticed the difference.

The equipment he remembered had been replaced.

There was far more this time.

Cyrus had barely recovered enough to speak when Rhea caught his wrists and locked them behind his back.

"Detective Maddox, listen to me..."

Something soft was pressed into his mouth before he could finish.

Cyrus went rigid.

Everything happened with disturbing efficiency.

Rhea moved as if she had rehearsed the sequence in her head countless times.

Within moments, Cyrus was seated near the corner, unable to use his hands and unable to speak clearly.

Rhea finally exhaled.

Her relief made the temperature rise again.

Cyrus felt his own mood sink in the opposite direction.

He had prepared an entire speech.

She had gagged him before he could use any of it.

The smaller room trapped heat much faster than the living room.

Rhea never released the lead.

When Cyrus shifted, she drew him forward and lifted his face slightly with the tension.

Her voice softened.

"If you experience why this can be enjoyable, maybe you will finally understand me."

She smiled faintly.

"Do not worry. I will be gentle."

Rhea seemed to consider the situation.

"Maybe taking control feels good too. I did not expect that."

Cyrus watched her carefully.

"Are you ready now?"

Rhea reached for the buttons of her uniform shirt and opened enough of them to cool herself, exposing her midriff.

Her expression made her intentions impossible to misunderstand.

Her breathing had grown heavier.

The room grew hotter with her.

That final increase was enough.

Cyrus’s body reacted before he could stop it.

His dark hair turned snow white.

His frame rapidly shrank, and the clothes that had fit him moments earlier became loose around a much smaller body.

Rhea went completely still.

Shock flashed across her face.

The gag no longer fit properly and slipped free.

Cyrus immediately drew in a breath.

Whatever Rhea had intended before no longer mattered to him.

His childlike Frostborn form meant the situation had crossed into a completely different kind of danger.

He finally had his voice back.

"Rhea Maddox, we need to talk about this right now."

Rhea stared down at him, still stunned.

Then her expression hardened with stubborn resolve.

"If we are going to talk, it can wait until after tonight."