Chapter 111: Breakfast Fit For A Dragon (And His Fox)

Kane cracked another egg into the bowl, whisking with deliberate precision while his tail continued its maddening dance around Cyrus’s wrist.

"I’ll make proper bacon and eggs. Maybe some toast—"

"No."

The single word came out sharper than Cyrus intended. Kane paused mid-whisk, amber eyes flicking up to meet his.

"No?"

Cyrus straightened, pulling his wrist free from Kane’s tail with visible effort.

His pride stung from the kitchen disaster, and the thought of Kane cleaning up his mess—again—twisted something uncomfortable in his chest.

"I mean," Cyrus cleared his throat, "let me order something. Proper food."

Kane tilted his head, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips.

"Proper food? Unlike my cooking?"

"That’s not what I—"

Heat crept up Cyrus’s neck. Kane’s cooking had been perfect, thoughtful, and exactly what he’d needed. But admitting defeat to a smoking pan felt too much like admitting weakness.

"I want to treat you to something good," Cyrus said stiffly.

Kane set down the whisk, turning to face him fully.

"Something good? Like what?"

"There’s a French patisserie that delivers. Pain au chocolat, fresh croissants—"

"You know I grew up eating cereal for dinner, right? You don’t have to impress me with fancy—"

"Laurent’s," Cyrus said into the phone, cutting Kane off.

"This is Cyrus Veyr. I need a full breakfast delivered to my penthouse. Yes, the usual suite of options."

Kane leaned against the counter, naked and amused, watching his proud dragon refuse to let him cook.

Cyrus ended the call, setting his phone on the counter with careful precision.

"Twenty minutes," he announced.

Kane stretched, his movement drawing Cyrus’s attention to the graceful line of his spine.

"So what do we do now? Just... wait for breakfast?"

"We can do whatever we want."

The words hung between them, heavy with possibility.

Cyrus’s gaze traced the curve of Kane’s shoulder, the pale marks blooming across his throat from the night before. The air seemed to thicken, charged with the same energy that had consumed them hours ago.

Kane’s ears twitched, and he ducked his head, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

"I just want breakfast."

The simple statement hit Cyrus like cold water. Of course Kane was hungry—they’d burned through considerable energy, and Kane’s fox metabolism demanded fuel.

His dragon instincts had been focused entirely on other appetites.

"Right," Cyrus said, his voice rougher than intended. "Breakfast first."

Kane’s smile was soft and grateful.

"Thank you. For ordering, I mean. Even if you did it to spare your pride."

Cyrus’s jaw tightened, but Kane’s teasing held no malice—only fond understanding that somehow made the embarrassment worse.

Soon, the doorbell chimed, followed by a polite knock.

Kane pulled on Cyrus’s discarded shirt, the fabric hanging loose on his smaller frame.

"Mr. Drakhal? Laurent’s delivery service."

Cyrus grabbed his robe, shooting Kane a warning look about his visible fox ears before heading to the door.

The breakfast arrival transformed Cyrus’s dining room into something from a luxury hotel.

Two uniformed butlers wheeled in silver carts laden with covered dishes, crystal glasses, and pristine white linens.

They moved with efficiency, setting the table with bone china and actual silverware.

Kane watched from the hallway as they arranged the feast.

Fresh croissants gleamed golden under warming lamps.

Delicate pastries sat in perfect rows—pain au chocolat, fruit tarts with berries that looked like tiny jewels, and Danish pastries glazed to perfection.

There were silver platters of smoked salmon, creamy scrambled eggs that somehow stayed fluffy, thick-cut bacon that didn’t resemble the greasy strips Kane knew, and fresh fruit carved into elaborate shapes.

One butler poured fresh orange juice from a crystal pitcher while the other arranged cloth napkins with military precision.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Drakhal?" the first butler asked.

"That’s all, thank you."

They departed as silently as they’d arrived, leaving behind a spread that could feed a small army.

Kane stepped into the dining room, amber eyes wide.

"This is... this is what you call ordering breakfast?"

Cyrus stood beside the table, looking almost apologetic.

"I wanted you to have something good."

Kane understood now why Cyrus couldn’t manage a simple pan of bacon.

When this was your normal, why would you ever learn to crack an egg?

Kane settled into the plush dining chair, trying not to wince as certain muscles protested the movement.

Everything on the table looked incredible—the kind of breakfast he’d only seen in magazines.

"I hope there’s something you’ll like," Cyrus said as he took the seat across from Kane.

Kane bit into a pain au chocolat, eyes closing in appreciation as buttery layers melted on his tongue.

"Are you kidding? This is amazing."

Cyrus’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he reached for the smoked salmon.

Kane shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. The rich pastry was perfect, but sitting reminded him exactly how thoroughly Cyrus had claimed him.

Cyrus’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, crimson eyes sharpening.

"You’re in pain."

"I’m fine—"

"Kane."

The single word carried enough authority to make Kane’s protests die in his throat. Cyrus was already rising, moving around the table with predatory grace.

"It’s just a little soreness. Nothing dramatic."

Cyrus knelt beside Kane’s chair, hands hovering near his thighs.

"Let me help."

Before Kane could object, warm crimson energy began flowing from Cyrus’s palms.

The dragon’s hands pressed gently against Kane’s thighs through the borrowed shirt, kneading with careful precision.

Kane bit back a moan as the healing warmth seeped into his muscles, easing the ache.

"Well, this is one way to improve breakfast," Kane managed, his voice slightly breathless.

Cyrus’s hands moved to his lower back, the energy pulsing in soothing waves.

"You should have told me you were uncomfortable."

"Didn’t want to interrupt the fancy French breakfast experience."

But Kane’s joking couldn’t hide how he melted under Cyrus’s reverent touch.

The dragon’s hands moved with absolute care, healing without crossing into territory that might overwhelm.

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, Kane working his way through half the pastries while Cyrus ate with his usual precise manners.

The smoked salmon was incredible, the eggs perfectly creamy, and Kane made mental notes about what constituted a proper breakfast in Cyrus’s world.

When Kane finally pushed back from the table, pleasantly full, he became acutely aware of other things that needed attention.

"I need a shower," he announced, standing. "Like, really need one."

Cyrus’s eyes tracked Kane’s movement, lingering on the borrowed shirt that barely covered his thighs.

"I could join you."