Chapter 214: Lords, Lava, And Luminous Seas

Cyrus set his phone aside. He retrieved a cashmere throw from an overhead compartment.

"Sleep." Cyrus draped the blanket over Kane’s shoulders. "The flight will take several hours."

Kane’s protest died as Cyrus’s fingers brushed his temple, crimson energy pulsing warm against his skin. The headache evaporated.

"Show-off," Kane mumbled, already drowsy. ℴ

Cyrus pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Rest."

The egg case slipped from Kane’s lap as sleep claimed him. Cyrus caught it with supernatural reflexes, securing it in the padded seat beside Kane before adjusting the blanket higher.

Kane woke to the whine of landing gear deploying.

He blinked sleep from his eyes, finding Cyrus reading beside him, one hand resting possessively on Kane’s knee.

"We’re descending," Cyrus said without looking up.

Kane pressed his face to the window. His breath fogged the glass.

The flight took them south, far beyond continental borders—where volcanic archipelagos hid from satellite maps.

Below, turquoise water glowed impossibly bright—shallow lagoons lit from beneath by volcanic vents, creating ribbons of luminescent jade and sapphire.

Black cliffs jutted from the ocean like dragon’s teeth, waves crashing white against obsidian rock.

A private runway carved into the clifftop appeared, impossibly narrow and steep.

"Where the hell are we?" Kane’s tails flicked beneath his glamour.

"Tiamara." Cyrus closed his book. "My island."

The jet touched down with barely a shudder, braking hard on the abbreviated strip.

Kane’s pulse hammered. "Your island? You own an island?"

"Several, actually." Cyrus unbuckled, offering Kane his hand. "This one is the most isolated."

A sleek black Range Rover waited on the tarmac, driver standing at attention.

The heat hit Kane like a wall when the jet door opened—thick and humid, carrying salt and sulfur. He descended the stairs on unsteady legs, clutching the egg case.

The driver bowed deeply. "Lord Drakhal."

Lord.

Kane shot Cyrus a look. Cyrus ignored him.

They climbed into the Range Rover, air conditioning blasting cold. The vehicle wound up a cliff road so steep Kane gripped his armrest.

Through the window, the island revealed itself in pieces: dense jungle canopy, waterfalls cascading into hidden pools, and in the distance—

"Is that a volcano?" Kane’s voice cracked.

The caldera glowed faint red against the twilight sky, smoke curling lazy from its peak.

"Yes, but it is dormant," Cyrus assured him. "Mostly."

The road crested, and Kane’s breath left him.

Villas perched on stilts above the water, connected by wooden walkways.

Infinity pools spilled over into nothing, black-sand beaches stretching beneath them.

The resort’s entrance appeared: carved obsidian archways wrapped in flowering vines, torches burning with crimson flame.

A woman in elegant white linen stepped forward, bowing low.

"Welcome back, Lord Drakhal." Her eyes held centuries. "It has been too long."

Cyrus inclined his head. "Indeed."

Kane’s tails twitched beneath his glamour as Cyrus guided him forward.

"Acceptable accommodations?" Cyrus’s lips curved.

Kane managed a single word. "F*ck."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Mind your language."

Kane’s fox ears flattened beneath his glamour. "You spring a private volcanic island on me and expect polite commentary?"

"You asked for a beach vacation." Cyrus’s smirk was insufferable. "I delivered."

The concierge gestured toward a waiting golf cart, bowing again. "If you’ll follow me, Lord Drakhal. I’ll escort you to your estate."

They climbed aboard, the vehicle gliding silent along polished stone paths. Torches flickered on either side, casting dancing shadows across white flowering vines.

"Tiamara Resort is owned by Veyr Corp," the concierge explained, her voice carrying the practiced cadence of luxury hospitality.

"We host a select clientele, those who value discretion and exclusivity."

Kane snorted. "AKA Super rich people."

"Precisely." She didn’t miss a beat.

"Each villa is designed for utmost privacy. Guests will never encounter one another unless they wish it. Personal chefs, spa treatments, guided excursions can all be arranged discreetly."

The cart wound higher, leaving the main resort behind.

The jungle thickened, bamboo groves rustling in the evening breeze. Kane caught glimpses of hidden waterfalls, steam rising from volcanic hot springs.

They emerged onto a clifftop plateau.

Kane’s breath stuttered.

The villa sprawled before them—glass and obsidian, seemingly carved from the volcanic rock itself. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the twilight ocean, waves crashing far below.

The structure was vast, open-concept, flowing seamlessly from interior to exterior. No walls separated the living spaces, only sheer glass that slid away completely.

Soft candlelight flickered inside, warm against the deepening dusk.

Kane’s tails twitched beneath his glamour as he took it in—the sleek modern furniture, the silk cushions, the jade sculptures nestled in alcoves. Everything whispered wealth so old it no longer needed to shout.

The Poseidon Suite on the Silver Mermaid had seemed lavish at the time. Now, Kane understood why Cyrus had remained unimpressed.

This was true paradise.

"I’ll leave you to settle in." The concierge bowed once more.

Cyrus nodded dismissal.

The golf cart hummed away, leaving them alone in the vast glass sanctuary.

Kane set the egg case carefully on a low table, his hands trembling slightly.

He moved through the space, touching nothing—afraid he might break something priceless. Afraid this might dissolve like a dream.

The balcony called to him.

He stepped outside, bare feet meeting warm teak decking.

The ocean spread before him. Each wave crested in ribbons of blue-green light, painting the black sand beach below.

Kane inhaled deeply.

The ocean smelled different here..

Salt and seaweed, yes, but beneath it something older and wilder.

The sulfur from the caldera mixing with tropical flowers and wet stone. The water smelled awake, charged with volcanic minerals and ancient magic.

His glamour flickered. One silver tail materialized, then another, until all nine swayed behind him in the sea breeze.

Cyrus joined him, arms folding around Kane from behind. Crimson energy hummed where their bodies pressed together.

"Do you approve?" Cyrus’s breath warmed Kane’s neck.

Kane leaned into Cyrus’s embrace, still staring at the impossible view. "This place isn’t real."

"I assure you, it is quite real." Cyrus’s lips brushed Kane’s ear.

"I meant—" Kane gestured helplessly at the glowing ocean, the volcano, the ridiculous villa. "This is insane."

Cyrus hummed agreement. "What would you like to do first?"

Kane opened his mouth to answer. But his stomach growled—loud and unmistakable in the tropical quiet.

Cyrus’s chest rumbled with laughter. "Dinner it is."

Kane’s ears flattened, heat flooding his cheeks. "Shut up."