Chapter 215: Crabs, Chili, And Compromised Composure

"Fine. Dinner." Kane huffed. "Where’s the island restaurant?"

"There isn’t one." Cyrus’s expression remained infuriatingly neutral. "Only a bar and lounge for guests who wish to socialize."

Kane blinked. "Then how—"

"Each villa has a full kitchen." Cyrus gestured toward the interior.

Kane turned in Cyrus’s embrace, spotting the open kitchen through the glass walls.

Gleaming countertops, professional-grade appliances, everything pristine and unused.

Kane broke away from Cyrus and strode inside, his tails swishing with excitement.

The kitchen was gorgeous—marble counters veined with gold, volcanic stone backsplash, and copper pots hanging from iron racks.

Just as luxurious as the penthouse, but with tropical accents.

He yanked open the refrigerator.

Empty.

The pantry revealed nothing but complimentary champagne, sparkling water, and a basket of exotic fruits.

"Cyrus." Kane turned, one silver tail flicking irritably. "There’s no food."

Cyrus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I’m aware."

"Where do I buy ingredients?" Kane stepped back, studying the empty kitchen. "Is there a supermarket on the island? Or maybe I could fish off the beach, catch some crabs—"

Cyrus’s quiet laughter stopped him mid-sentence.

"This isn’t a castaway adventure." Crimson eyes glinted with amusement. "We’re not foraging for dinner."

Kane’s ears twitched. "Then what—"

Cyrus pulled out his phone, thumbs moving across the screen. "I’m arranging for the resort’s private chef to come prepare our meal."

Heat crawled up Kane’s neck. Of course. Luxury resorts had private chefs on call.

"You could’ve mentioned that before I started planning my crab-hunting expedition."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Cyrus pocketed his phone, stepping closer. "Besides, watching you plot survival strategies was entertaining."

Kane’s tails lashed. "I hate you."

"And yet you agreed to vacation with me." Cyrus’s fingers traced Kane’s jaw. "The chef will arrive in fifteen minutes. What would you like prepared?"

Kane’s ears flattened as he realized his predicament.

But he had no idea what regional cuisine this island offered, or even where exactly they’d landed.

His tails curled thoughtfully.

"Surprise me," Kane said finally. "Just—nothing that glows or tries to eat me first."

"Adventurous choice," Cyrus’s lips curved. "I’ll specify no bioluminescent ingredients."

"Smart-ass."

"Your smart-ass."

Kane couldn’t argue with that.

The chef arrived precisely fifteen minutes later—a woman with warm brown skin and silver-streaked hair, followed by a younger assistant carrying a stack of insulated containers.

"Lord Drakhal." She inclined her head respectfully before smiling at Kane. "And guest. I’ve prepared tonight’s island tasting menu."

Kane’s tails perked as she began unpacking ingredients onto the marble counter.

Fresh reef fish with iridescent scales, massive red crabs still moving sluggishly in ice, prawns the size of Kane’s fist, perfectly ripe mangos, dragonfruit with electric pink flesh.

Glass bottles filled with deep crimson liquid clinked softly as the assistant set them aside.

"We’ll begin with the grilled reef fish," the chef explained, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

"Followed by chili pepper crab, citrus-glazed prawns, mango sticky rice, and dragonfruit wine to complement each course."

Kane perched on a barstool, his amber eyes tracking every movement as she started preparing the fish.

Cyrus settled onto the sofa with a newspaper, apparently content to let the professionals work.

The chef’s assistant lit the stovetop, and immediately the kitchen filled with aromatic smoke—lemongrass, ginger, coconut milk, and something floral Kane couldn’t identify.

His nose twitched.

"This smells illegal," Kane blurted.

The chef laughed, a warm sound that reminded him of Mochi’s perpetual cheerfulness.

"I assure you, everything is quite legal. Though the dragonfruit wine does require special permits."

Kane leaned closer, watching her score the fish’s skin with precise cuts before pressing it onto the grill.

The sizzle made his mouth water.

Cyrus glanced over the newspaper’s edge, crimson eyes amused. "Impressed?"

"Shhhh...," Kane whispered. "I’m observing. For educational purposes."

"Of course." Cyrus returned to his reading, but his smirk lingered.

The assistant set their plates down, arranging each element like edible art.

Kane’s portion featured the grilled reef fish glistening with citrus glaze, while Cyrus received a more conservative serving.

"Dragonfruit wine, gentlemen." The assistant poured crimson liquid into crystal glasses, the surface shimmering faintly in the villa’s ambient lighting.

Kane lifted his fork, spearing a piece of fish.

The first bite exploded across his tongue—butter-soft flesh, tangy lime, sweet coconut milk, and something smoky he couldn’t name.

His ears perked straight up.

"Holy—" Kane stuffed another forkful into his mouth. "This is incredible."

Across the table, Cyrus sampled his portion with maddening composure. Perfect posture, measured bites, not a flicker of reaction beyond a slight nod.

Kane’s eye twitched.

"You’re doing it again," Kane accused around a mouthful of rice.

"Doing what?" Cyrus dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin.

"Being annoyingly elegant." Kane gestured with his fork. "You’ve tasted half the realms, haven’t you?"

Cyrus’s lips curved. "Almost."

The assistant returned, clearing their first course and presenting massive red crabs split open, dripping with chili sauce and garlic.

Kane’s nose flared at the spicy aroma.

"Then I hereby challenge you to enjoy this meal like a mortal." Kane picked up a crab leg, cracking it with his bare hands.

Cyrus raised one perfect eyebrow. "And how does one... enjoy food like a mortal?"

"You stop pretending spice doesn’t affect you, for starters." Kane pointed the crab leg at Cyrus. "I see you avoiding the chili peppers."

"I’m savoring the flavors," Cyrus countered smoothly.

"Liar." Kane selected the spiciest-looking piece of crab meat, coating it in extra sauce. "Open up."

Cyrus’s expression turned wary. "Kane—"

"I survived being kidnapped and experimented on." Kane leaned forward, holding the dripping crab toward Cyrus’s mouth. "You can survive some chili sauce."

Their eyes locked—amber challenging crimson.

Cyrus sighed, then opened his mouth.

Kane deposited the crab meat onto Cyrus’s tongue, grinning wickedly.

Cyrus chewed, swallowed, and maintained perfect composure for exactly three seconds.

Then coughed.

Just once.

But it was enough.

Kane slammed both hands on the table, his tails blazing with delight. "You coughed! The almighty dragon coughed!"

"I did no such thing." Cyrus grabbed his wine glass, draining half in one elegant gulp that absolutely contradicted his denial.

"Oh, you’re never living this down." Kane cackled. "This is going in my diary. Day one of vacation: watched boyfriend lose fight with shellfish."

Cyrus’s glare promised revenge. Kane’s laughter promised he couldn’t wait to see how.