Chapter 84: Sweetness And Spirit Interruptions

Kane stared at Cyrus, fork suspended halfway to his mouth.

"We’ll see? That’s your answer?"

The ambiguity hung between them, making Kane’s chest tight.

He focused on his plate instead, stabbing at what looked like a single scallop drowning in foam.

"This is it?" Kane held up the morsel. "I’ve seen bigger appetizers at gas stations."

The elderly couple at the next table turned to stare. Kane’s voice had carried farther than intended.

"For two hundred dollars, I expected actual food, not modern art."

Cyrus remained perfectly composed, cutting his own microscopic portion.

"It’s seared diver scallop with cauliflower purée and truffle oil."

His voice was educational and patient.

"The portion allows you to appreciate the individual flavors without overwhelming the palate."

Kane bit into the scallop, his irritation melting as butter and ocean sweetness exploded across his tongue.

"Oh."

The flavors were impossibly complex, each element distinct yet harmonious.

"The chef spent years perfecting the balance."

Cyrus watched Kane’s expression change with quiet satisfaction.

"Sometimes less is more."

Kane swallowed, suddenly understanding why people paid ridiculous amounts for tiny food.

"Okay, that’s actually incredible."

The tension between them eased slightly, replaced by Kane’s grudging appreciation for Cyrus’s refined taste.

Kane chewed thoughtfully, savoring the last traces of truffle oil.

"I mean, it’s good, but give me the right ingredients and some time, and I could probably—"

He stopped mid-sentence, fork clattering against the porcelain.

What was he doing? Offering to cook for Cyrus again? Like some kind of...

Kane’s ears flattened against his skull as heat crept up his neck.

"I could probably appreciate this more if I wasn’t distracted," he finished lamely, gesturing vaguely at the city lights beyond.

Cyrus tilted his head, those red eyes catching the candlelight.

"Distracted by?"

"The view," Kane said shyly, not meeting Cyrus’s gaze. "It’s just... a lot to take in."

That familiar smirk tugged at Cyrus’s lips again.

"So, do you come here often?"

Kane immediately regretted the question. It sounded like a terrible pickup line.

Cyrus didn’t deny it, his fingers tracing the stem of his wine glass.

"I do. Though I’ve always come alone."

A server appeared as if summoned, setting down their next course with theatrical precision.

This time, Kane found himself staring at what looked like edible jewelry. Delicate pasta pearls nestled in a golden sauce.

"I can understand why you’d come here," Kane said, picking up his fork.

"The place is intimate enough for privacy, and the small portions probably suit your appetite perfectly."

He took a bite, the pasta bursting with concentrated flavor that made his previous complaint about portion sizes seem ridiculous.

"You eat like a bird anyway."

Cyrus’s eyebrow arched.

"Birds consume twenty percent of their body weight daily."

Kane paused, considering this.

"Okay, you eat like a very elegant bird. A swan or something."

The comparison drew an actual laugh from Cyrus—brief but genuine.

Three more courses passed in a blur of delicate flavors and increasingly comfortable conversation.

Kane found himself relaxing despite the formal setting, Cyrus’s dry observations about their fellow diners drawing quiet laughter.

Then dessert arrived; it was a towering chocolate soufflé dusted with gold leaf, accompanied by two spoons and a small pitcher of vanilla cream.

"Well," Kane said, eyeing the creation with mock seriousness, "this looks dangerously romantic. Should we feed each other like those couples in movies?"

He waggled his eyebrows, expecting Cyrus to roll his eyes or deliver a cutting remark.

Instead, Cyrus picked up his spoon and carved out a perfect bite, complete with cream.

"Open your mouth."

Kane’s brain short-circuited.

"What?"

"You suggested it." Cyrus held the spoon steady, waiting. "Unless you were merely posturing?"

Heat flooded Kane’s cheeks, but he couldn’t back down now. He leaned forward slightly, lips parting.

The chocolate melted on his tongue—rich, warm, and decadent.

But all Kane could focus on was Cyrus’s intense gaze watching his reaction and the careful way those long fingers held the spoon.

This wasn’t just dessert anymore—it felt like surrender.

A dollop of vanilla cream clung to the corner of Kane’s mouth as he pulled back, the rich chocolate still melting on his tongue.

"You missed some," Cyrus murmured, reaching for his linen napkin.

Cyrus leaned across the small table, close enough that Kane could see the gold flecks in those crimson eyes.

The napkin brushed against Kane’s skin, Cyrus’s touch feather-light yet somehow burning.

"There."

Cyrus didn’t immediately pull away, his hand lingering near Kane’s face.

"Your turn," Cyrus said softly, settling back into his chair and carving out another perfect bite of soufflé.

Kane’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for his spoon, the intimate gesture making his pulse race.

He could still feel the phantom touch of the napkin against his skin.

Just as Kane lifted the spoon toward Cyrus’s mouth, a sharp crack split the air.

The sound cut through the restaurant’s gentle ambience like a gunshot. Kane’s head snapped toward the noise.

A violent ripple of spiritual energy pulsed through the room, making the chandelier above them rattle like loose bones.

Diners shrieked and dove under tables; waiters dropped their trays, causing expensive wine to shatter against marble floors in crimson stains.

Kane’s fox ears twitched beneath the illusionary glamour, instinct screaming danger.

The air itself felt wrong—thick with malevolent energy that made his skin crawl.

"Rogue spirit," he breathed, already reaching for the gun that wasn’t there.

His gun sat uselessly in Cyrus’s penthouse—he’d left it behind for their day at the amusement park.

"Damn it—" he hissed.

Cyrus was on his feet before the word fully left Kane’s lips, moving to position himself between Kane and whatever was causing the chaos.

His crimson eyes blazed brighter, no longer bothering to hide the supernatural glow.

Another crack echoed through the restaurant, this time accompanied by the grinding sound of stone against stone.

Emergency lighting kicked in as the main power failed, casting everything in harsh red shadows that made the panic worse.

"Everyone out!" Kane shouted, his Bureau training overriding the intimate dinner atmosphere.

"Move to the exits now!"