Chapter 106: Locked Away, Letting Go

Cyrus’s voice cut through the quiet like silk over steel, stopping Kane mid-step.

Kane’s hand froze halfway to the throw pillow, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He turned slowly, finding Cyrus watching him with those burning red-gold eyes, two wine glasses balanced in his elegant hands.

Kane tried for a grin, but it felt shaky around the edges.

"Oh? You want the couch instead?"

Cyrus crossed the room with that predatory grace Kane had come to recognize, wine glasses catching the low light.

"Chateau Margaux, 1982." Cyrus extended one of the glasses, his fingers brushing Kane’s as he accepted it.

"Worth more than some people’s cars."

Kane nearly choked. "You’re giving me car-price wine?"

"I’m offering you a drink." Cyrus’s lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Kane tilted the glass back and downed the wine in three gulps, his throat burning as the rare vintage vanished too fast to appreciate.

Cyrus’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

"That was—" Kane wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thanks. It definitely tastes expensive. Like you can taste the money."

"You just consumed eighteen hundred dollars in six seconds."

Kane’s face went pale. "Eighteen—what?"

He stared at the empty glass like it might magically refill itself. "I thought you were joking about the car thing."

Cyrus’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, rich and genuine. He lifted his own glass, watching Kane’s mortified expression over the rim.

"Your face is worth every penny."

He drained the wine in one smooth motion, savoring the warmth that spread through his chest—liquid courage he hadn’t realized he needed.

"There’s more where that came from." Cyrus set both glasses on the coffee table.

"My room has a better selection."

Kane’s breath caught. "Your room?"

"Unless you prefer convenience store wine."

Cyrus extended his hand, waiting.

Kane’s gaze darted to the couch, then back to Cyrus. The cushions suddenly looked incredibly inviting—safe, familiar territory.

"Actually, this couch is pretty comfortable. Like, surprisingly comfortable."

Cyrus leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted against Kane’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"You should know what you’re asking for."

Kane’s mouth opened to deliver some smartass retort, but Cyrus’s voice dropped to a whisper that made his knees weak.

"Unless you’d rather I carry you to my bed instead."

"What—" The words died in Kane’s throat as Cyrus scooped him up effortlessly, one arm beneath his knees, the other supporting his back.

Bridal style. Like Kane weighed nothing at all.

"Cyrus!" Kane’s face blazed crimson, his hands instinctively gripping Cyrus’s shoulders.

"Put me down! This is ridiculous!"

But his protests lacked any real conviction, especially when Cyrus’s grip tightened possessively around him.

Cyrus’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, steady and determined, carrying Kane toward the master bedroom with the confidence of a man who’d already won the argument.

"You had your chance to walk." Cyrus murmured, his lips quirking upward.

Kane buried his face against Cyrus’s shoulder, mortified that his traitorous body was giving him away.

Cyrus nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder, carrying Kane across the threshold like they were newlyweds.

The heavy oak panel swung shut behind them with a soft click, followed by the unmistakable shimmer of crimson energy sealing the lock.

Kane’s eyes went wide as Cyrus lowered him onto the massive platform bed, the silk duvet cool against his back.

"Did you just—lock us in with dragon magic?"

"Maybe." Cyrus’s voice carried a dangerous edge of satisfaction.

Kane scrambled to sit up, his gaze darting around the room to avoid looking directly at Cyrus.

The space screamed luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, charcoal walls, minimalist furniture that probably cost more than Kane’s old apartment.

"This is..." Kane gestured vaguely at the sleek nightstands and abstract art.

"Very you. All modern and intimidating and—"

His words died mid-sentence.

There, on the nightstand closest to him, sat the white fox plushie from the amusement park. Right next to it, the black dragon Kane had won for Cyrus.

"You kept them." Kane’s voice came out softer than intended.

He reached out, fingers brushing the fox’s fur. "I wondered where they went after we got back."

Kane lifted the fox, examining it with growing suspicion. The fur looked... different somehow. Slightly matted in places, like it had been handled extensively.

"Did you... I mean, what did you do with them? Just curious." Kane’s cheeks flushed as his imagination ran wild.

"You didn’t do anything weird to the fox one, did you? Like sleep with it or—"

He caught himself, mortification flooding his features.

"Not that sleeping with stuffed animals is weird! Lots of people do that. Totally normal. I just meant—"

Cyrus watched Kane’s spiral with obvious amusement, leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed. ℯ

Cyrus pushed off from the door, crossing to the bed with deliberate slowness.

"The fox was... adequate company." His voice carried a note of resignation.

Kane’s grip tightened on the plushie, warmth spreading through his chest at the admission.

Cyrus settled onto the mattress beside Kane, the expensive springs barely registering his weight.

Kane’s breath caught as Cyrus reached for the comforter, drawing it over both of them.

The bed was massive—easily twice the size of the cramped queen at the Onyx Motel and nothing like the cozy confines of the cinema’s reclining seats.

Here, they could maintain a respectful distance, yet Cyrus chose to settle close enough that Kane could feel his warmth.

The silk sheets felt impossibly soft against Kane’s skin, the mattress cradling him like a cloud.

"This is..." Kane sank deeper into the plush surface. "Way too comfortable. How do you ever get out of this thing?"

Cyrus’s lips quirked upward. "With considerable difficulty."

Kane turned onto his side, studying Cyrus’s profile in the dim light.

"So what happens now? Do we just... lie here?"

"I just want you to rest well," Cyrus said softly, his voice cutting through Kane’s racing thoughts.

"We don’t have to do anything. Just... sleep."

"Okay," Kane whispered, closing his eyes.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension.

Kane’s heart hammered against his ribs as he lay perfectly still, hyperaware of every breath Cyrus took beside him.

Cyrus could have pounced, could have claimed him, but instead he just lay there, steady as stone.

Screw it.

Kane’s eyes snapped open.

He rolled toward Cyrus, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted like expensive wine and desperation.