Chapter 226: Peace, Passion, And Pooling Heat

Moments later, the therapist’s hands disappeared from Kane’s back.

"We’ll move to facial treatment now."

Kane cracked one eye open, watching as she arranged glass bowls filled with green clay and cucumber slices on a lacquered tray.

Cool fingertips smoothed cleanser across his face, working in gentle circles.

Kane’s nose twitched at the sharp botanical scent—lavender and something citrus.

The woman spread clay across his cheeks and forehead, avoiding his twitching ears.

Kane felt ridiculous.

Through the curtain, he caught a glimpse of Cyrus receiving the same treatment, looking impossibly dignified even covered in green paste.

Of course the dragon made clay masks look elegant.

"Rest while the mask sets," the therapist murmured, placing cucumber slices over Kane’s eyes.

Darkness descended, heightening every other sensation.

The stones on his lower back radiated soothing heat, contrasting with the cooling clay tightening across his skin.

Kane’s breathing deepened despite the absurdity.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Time blurred. The mask came off, followed by toner and moisturizer that left Kane’s face feeling weirdly smooth.

The heated stones were repositioned along his spine, each placement sending warmth radiating through exhausted muscles.

An hour passed as practiced hands and warm stones worked on Kane’s body.

The therapist’s fingers traced final patterns down Kane’s spine before she stepped back.

Kane sat up slowly, muscles loose and pliant. The woman gestured toward a stone pathway winding through tropical foliage.

Cyrus rose from his table, golden eyes half-lidded with rare contentment.

They followed the path barefoot, warm smooth slate beneath their feet. Orchids bloomed wild between volcanic rocks, their petals catching spray from the waterfall ahead.

The hot spring emerged from the jungle like a secret—a natural pool carved from black lava rock, fed by steaming mineral water cascading down moss-covered stone.

Smooth boulders ringed the edges, worn glass-like by centuries of erosion. Wisps of steam curled above the water’s surface, catching afternoon light in prismatic halos.

Privacy screens of woven bamboo enclosed the space on three sides. The fourth opened toward the ocean, offering an unobstructed view of turquoise water meeting the horizon.

The therapists bowed low.

Their footsteps faded down the path, leaving Kane and Cyrus alone with steam and silence.

Kane sank onto a smooth boulder, toes dipping into mineral-heated water.

"That was absolutely divine." His voice came out dreamy, nine tails swaying lazily behind him. "I think my bones turned to jelly."

Cyrus settled beside him, reaching for the lacquered tray set on a nearby table. Steam curled from a ceramic teapot painted with silver cranes.

He poured amber liquid into two cups, pressing one into Kane’s hands.

"Careful. It’s hot."

Kane hummed contentedly, cradling the warmth against his chest. Sliced mango and dragon fruit glistened on a wooden platter beside scattered lychees.

Cyrus plucked a piece of mango, offering it wordlessly.

Kane accepted, amber eyes half-lidded as he chewed. Sweet juice burst across his tongue—tropical and perfect.

Cyrus took Kane’s free hand, thumbs working slow circles across his palm.

The gesture felt absent-minded, but Kane noticed the careful attention Cyrus paid to each pressure point.

"You’re going to spoil me rotten," Kane murmured, leaning into the touch.

"I don’t see how that’s a problem."

Kane’s aura flickered—silver light stuttering like a candle in the wind.

Cyrus’s hands stilled for a heartbeat before resuming their rhythm, expression carefully neutral.

Kane didn’t notice, too blissed out to register the brief disruption.

He sipped his tea, savoring the delicate floral notes while steam kissed his face.

This moment felt stolen from someone else’s life—too peaceful, too perfect to belong to a fox who’d spent years scraping by on ramen and stubbornness.

Cyrus’s thumb traced the sensitive webbing between Kane’s fingers.

His crimson eyes tracked every detail—the lazy sway of silver tails, the flush warming Kane’s cheeks, and the faint tremor in his spirit energy.

Kane set his cup down, sliding into the hot spring with a contented sigh.

Mineral-rich water enveloped him to the chest, warmth seeping into muscles still loose from the massage.

He tilted his head back against smooth stone, silver hair fanning across volcanic rock.

"This is perfect."

Cyrus followed moments later, barely disturbing the water’s surface despite his size.

He settled beside Kane, crimson eyes tracking the lazy drift of steam.

A butterfly descended from the canopy, landing delicately on Kane’s bare shoulder.

Blue wings fluttered against pink skin.

Kane went cross-eyed trying to see it.

Cyrus’s hand rose, brushing the insect away with careful fingers. It spiraled upward on heated air currents, disappearing into jungle foliage.

"My hero," Kane teased. "Saving me from vicious butterflies."

"It was interrupting."

Cyrus’s palm remained on Kane’s shoulder, thumb tracing the slope where neck met collarbone.

The touch shifted from protective to possessive, fingers mapping familiar territory.

Kane’s breath caught despite the heat.

"Interrupting what exactly?"

"This."

Cyrus’s hand slid higher, cradling the back of Kane’s neck.

He drew Kane closer through mineral-warmed water, steam rising between them like a benediction.

Kane’s lips parted before Cyrus claimed them, the kiss slow and deliberate.

Heat that had nothing to do with the hot spring flooded Kane’s veins.

Cyrus’s tongue swept into his mouth, tasting of tea and something darker—dragon fire held carefully in check.

Kane’s hands found Cyrus’s shoulders, nails digging into wet skin as he pressed closer.

The mineral water rippled around them, lapping against stone edges.

Cyrus’s other hand settled on Kane’s hip beneath the surface, thumb stroking circles that made Kane’s breath hitch.

Kane broke the kiss first, gasping.

"We’re in public."

"We’re alone." Cyrus’s lips traced Kane’s jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive spot behind his ear. "The staff won’t return unless summoned."

Kane’s protest died as Cyrus bit down gently, soothing the sting with his tongue.

One of Kane’s tails wrapped around Cyrus’s waist beneath the water, silver fur darkening where it dipped below the surface.

He wanted to memorize this—Cyrus’s laugh, the heat, the stillness—because some part of him already feared he wouldn’t get another chance.

Cyrus pulled back just enough to meet Kane’s eyes. Golden irises had gone molten, pupils blown wide with desire.

"Still worried about being seen?"

Kane answered by dragging Cyrus into another kiss, deeper this time.