Chapter 125: Seatbelts And Statements

Kane choked on his frappe, chocolate and whipped cream going down the wrong pipe. He doubled over, coughing violently while his eyes watered.

The temperature at their table seemed to drop ten degrees.

Cyrus’s crimson eyes fixed on Bob with the kind of stare that suggested he was calculating exactly how many pieces a human body could be separated into.

Bob, oblivious to the dragon’s murderous expression, reached across the table with concern.

"Kane! Are you okay?"

Kane finally caught his breath, waving Bob off with one hand while delivering a sharp kick to Cyrus’s shin under the table.

The dragon’s homicidal aura was practically visible, and the last thing they needed was a scene in the hotel lobby.

"Guess I’m allergic to awkward questions," Kane wheezed, forcing a laugh.

Bob’s face lit up with relief.

"Oh thank god, I thought you were dying for a second there."

Cyrus did not laugh. At all. His crimson eyes remained locked on Bob.

Bob’s cheeks flushed crimson as he backtracked frantically.

"I just meant... dinner! As friends! Totally as friends. Unless..." He trailed off, somehow managing to dig himself deeper into the hole he’d created.

"I mean, not that I’m assuming anything, but if you wanted—"

"Mr. Holloway." Cyrus’s voice cut through Bob’s rambling.

"I think you’ve said enough."

The words carried the weight of barely restrained violence, and Bob finally seemed to register the danger radiating from the man beside Kane.

Bob cleared his throat nervously, glancing between Kane and the distinctly murderous dragon beside him.

"Right, well... I’ll just go check those files for you. The healing artifact thing. For your friend."

He practically stumbled over his words as Kane and Cyrus stood to leave.

Kane didn’t dare look back. The hotel’s revolving door had never moved slower.

Kane counted each agonizing second until they emerged onto the sidewalk, where he finally released the breath he’d been holding.

"Well, that could have gone worse—"

"A date." Cyrus said coldly.

Kane’s relief evaporated. He glanced at Cyrus, whose jaw was set in granite and whose eyes promised retribution for someone.

"It’s not a big deal. He’s just—"

"Asking my boyfriend on a date. In front of me."

The possessive edge in Cyrus’s voice made Kane’s stomach flip in ways that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the heat creeping up his neck.

"Technically, he doesn’t know we’re—"

"He does now."

Cyrus’s hand settled firmly on the small of Kane’s back, fingers spread wide in a gesture that screamed ownership to anyone watching.

The touch burned through Kane’s shirt as Cyrus guided him toward the sleek black Jaguar.

At the car, Cyrus opened the passenger door for Kane. He slid into the leather seat, expecting Cyrus to circle around to the driver’s side.

Instead, Cyrus leaned across Kane’s body, reaching for the seatbelt.

"I can buckle my own seatbelt, you know."

Kane’s protest came out breathier than intended as Cyrus’s chest pressed against his shoulder.

Cyrus clicked the belt into place, his face inches from Kane’s neck.

"Can you?"

The question held layers Kane wasn’t ready to unpack. Cyrus’s breath ghosted across Kane’s ear before he finally pulled back.

The car door slammed shut with finality.

Kane stared straight ahead, heart hammering. Cyrus’s jealousy was intoxicating—and terrifying.

Cyrus slid into the driver’s seat without a word.

Kane watched familiar streets blur past the window, then frowned as they sailed past the turn that would take them back to Veyr Corp.

"Where are we going?"

Cyrus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. The speedometer climbed as they merged onto the highway.

Kane twisted in his seat, studying Cyrus’s profile. The dragon’s eyes remained fixed on the road, but those crimson flecks of gold were definitely glowing now.

"Cyrus."

Nothing.

"Hey, brooding and mysterious only works when I’m not the one trapped in a moving vehicle with you."

Still nothing. Kane could practically see the steam coming out of Cyrus’s ears.

Kane threw his hands up, fox ears threatening to emerge from sheer frustration.

"Look, I get that you’re jealous, but we still need to meet Mochi for dinner."

Kane knew if he missed the cat’s reservation, Mochi would never let him live it down.

Cyrus’s jaw worked silently before he finally spoke.

"I know."

"Then where are we going?"

"We’re making a stop first."

The cryptic answer made Kane’s stomach flip with unease. The highway stretched endlessly ahead, and Cyrus showed no signs of slowing down.

"What kind of stop?"

Cyrus remained silent, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of an upscale jewelry boutique nestled between designer shops on the city’s outskirts.

Kane stared at the elegant storefront, confusion written across his face.

"Cyrus, what the hell are we doing here?"

Cyrus turned off the engine, his expression unreadable as he pocketed the keys.

"Shopping."

"For what, exactly?"

Kane’s voice pitched higher than intended.

His mind raced through increasingly horrifying possibilities. They’d been together for exactly one night—well, technically one night and a shower—and Cyrus was already dragging him to look at rings?

Sure, they had some cosmic past-life connection thing going on, but that didn’t mean they should skip straight to picking out matching wedding bands.

"Cyrus, if you’re planning to rush into this—I mean, we just started dating—this seems kind of premature—"

"You can either come inside with me or wait in the car." Cyrus stepped out without elaborating, leaving Kane to gape at his retreating figure.

"Cyrus, wait—" Kane scrambled out of the passenger seat, jogging to catch up.

The shop’s door chimed as Cyrus pushed inside.

Kane hesitated on the threshold, staring at display cases filled with diamonds the size of grapes and watches that cost more than most people’s houses.

A perfectly coiffed saleswoman glided toward them. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I assist you today?"

Kane shot Cyrus a desperate look, silently pleading for some hint about what the hell they were doing here.

Cyrus’s crimson eyes remained fixed on the jewelry cases.

"I need something that makes a statement."