Chapter 51: Heatstroke And Heartaches

Cyrus burst out of the suite, not bothering to change from his lounge clothes.

The pain in his chest sharpened with each step as he sprinted down the corridor.

Crew members flattened themselves against the walls as he passed, his eyes glowing faintly red.

The sun deck was empty except for a few couples enjoying sunset cocktails. No sign of Kane or Bob. The yoga mats had been cleared away hours ago.

Cyrus closed his eyes, focusing on the pain radiating through his chest.

He turned slowly, using the bond like a compass needle, feeling for the direction where the pull was strongest.

The worst possibilities flooded Cyrus’s mind. Kane kidnapped by artifact smugglers working with Bernard. Bob luring him into a trap to extract information. Kane falling overboard, either by his own choice or because he was pushed, and the Mediterranean swallowed him whole.

The bond pulsed again, stronger now.

Cyrus clutched his chest and moved toward the lower decks, following the invisible thread that connected him to Kane.

He was getting closer. The narrow service corridors were a maze of white-painted steel, but the bond pulled him forward with unmistakable certainty.

He rounded a corner and stopped abruptly.

Bob Holloway stumbled toward him, Kane limp in his arms—face flushed, breathing shallow.

"Mr. Drakhal!" Bob jumped, nearly dropping Kane.

"What happened?" Cyrus’s voice came out as a growl.

"Heat stroke, I think. We were on the sun deck all morning. He seemed fine, then suddenly collapsed when we were heading back."

Kane’s eyes fluttered open briefly. "Cy...rus?" he mumbled before slipping back into semi-consciousness.

"The infirmary’s this way," Bob said, nodding down the hall. "I can carry him—"

Cyrus didn’t wait for him to finish. He scooped Kane from Bob’s arms with effortless strength, cradling him against his chest.

"I’ll take him from here," Cyrus said, his voice decisive and commanding.

The bond between them hummed with relief at the proximity, but Kane’s condition was deteriorating rapidly.

Cyrus bypassed the infirmary entirely, ignoring Bob’s protests.

He carried Kane swiftly through the corridors, taking the most direct route back to their suite.

The moment they entered the Poseidon Suite, Cyrus kicked the door shut behind them and rushed to the thermostat, cranking the air conditioning to its coldest setting.

The vents immediately began pumping frigid air into the room.

He laid Kane on the sofa, heat radiating off his skin like fevered fire.

Kane’s breathing came in short, labored gasps, his normally alert eyes unfocused and glassy.

"Too far," Kane mumbled. "Didn’t think it would..."

Cyrus said nothing; his fingers worked quickly to unbutton Kane’s sweat-soaked shirt.

He peeled the damp fabric away, revealing the karmic seal on Kane’s chest.

The mark glowed an angry red, pulsing with each of Kane’s shallow breaths.

Cyrus placed his palm directly over the seal, feeling the heat beneath his touch.

He knew he had to cool Kane down quickly, but his dragon nature was a hindrance, not a help. Fire coursed through his veins—the opposite of what Kane needed.

His eyes darted to the hot tub in the middle of their living room, and sudden inspiration struck.

"Stay with me," he muttered, lifting Kane again.

Grabbing the suite’s tablet, Cyrus rapidly tapped through the controls, bypassing the heating system entirely.

He found the temperature settings and overrode the safety protocols, setting it to its absolute coldest.

The tub began to drain, then refilled with icy water pumped directly from the ship’s cooling system.

He lowered Kane into the frigid water, still in his shorts. Kane gasped violently at the shock, his back arching as the cold enveloped him.

Cyrus kept one hand firmly on the karmic seal, feeling the angry heat begin to subside as the water did its work.

Kane’s eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his features as he blinked rapidly.

His gaze darted around the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings.

The chill of the water had cooled his system back to awareness but left him disoriented.

"What... where am I?" His voice came out raspy, barely above a whisper.

Cyrus sat at the edge of the tub, relief briefly softening his normally stern expression before it hardened again.

He reached for a glass he’d placed nearby, filling it with water.

"You’re in our suite," Cyrus said, his tone clipped. "In an improvised ice bath."

He offered the glass to Kane, who took it with trembling fingers. Water sloshed over the rim as Kane brought it to his lips, drinking greedily.

"Small sips," Cyrus warned, steadying Kane’s hand.

Kane shivered in the makeshift ice bath, his teeth chattering as clarity returned to his mind.

The room stopped spinning, and Cyrus’s stern face came into focus.

"Guess I spent too much time working on my tan," Kane joked weakly, attempting a smile that faltered under Cyrus’s intense gaze.

"Didn’t realize fox spirits and Mediterranean sun don’t mix well."

"I’m sure you had a wonderful time." Cyrus’s voice carried an edge Kane hadn’t heard before. Something between concern and... was that jealousy?

Kane’s ears flattened against his head as he registered the tone. He looked down at the water, watching ripples spread from his trembling body.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly. "Seems like I’m making a habit of you having to save me."

He attempted to stand, water cascading off his body as he gripped the edge of the tub. His legs wobbled beneath him.

Cyrus remained silent but extended his hand to help Kane out of the tub.

Kane’s legs buckled as he stepped from the tub, sending him crashing against Cyrus’s chest.

Cyrus caught him effortlessly, one arm wrapping around Kane’s waist while the other steadied his shoulder.

"Still dizzy," Kane mumbled, his wet body pressed against Cyrus’s clothes.

He noticed that Cyrus was in his loungewear, his hair disheveled.

"You came looking for me in that?" Kane teased, his voice lighter than his gaze. "You must have been really worried."

Cyrus stiffened, adjusting his grip on Kane’s waist.

"Don’t flatter yourself. The bond was causing me discomfort." He smoothed his hair with his free hand.

Kane smiled despite his exhaustion. Cyrus’s averted gaze and the slight flush across his cheekbones told a different story than his dismissive words.