Chapter 88: Fogged Mirrors And Foolish Instincts

Cyrus lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as steam from Kane’s shower drifted under the bathroom door.

He could hear the shower running through the penthouse walls, a steady rhythm that should have been soothing.

Every time he closed his eyes, Kane’s laughter echoed through his mind—bright and unrestrained as they’d shot down the Crimson Cyclone.

Cyrus rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow.

The memory of feeding Kane dessert surfaced next, vivid and torturous.

The way Kane’s lips had parted, trusting and vulnerable. How his amber eyes had darkened when Cyrus leaned close with the napkin.

Then came the memory that made his chest tighten—Kane’s fearless glare as he’d faced down the rogue spirit.

Kane had no hesitation or instincts of self-preservation.

Just pure determination to protect the innocent civilians around them, even without his weapon.

His dragon instincts stirred restlessly beneath his skin. The need to shield Kane from every threat, to wrap him in protective fire until nothing could touch him.

Cyrus’s fingers clenched in the silk sheets.

The thought blazed through his mind unbidden, making his hands shake with barely controlled power.

Crimson energy flickered around his fingers before he forced it down, jaw clenched with the effort of maintaining control.

This was precisely why he’d spent centuries alone.

Dragons weren’t meant for partnerships—they hoarded, they possessed, and they destroyed anything that threatened what they claimed.

Kane wasn’t an object to be claimed.

But try explaining that to the ancient instincts currently demanding he mark Kane’s scent with his own and keep him close where no other predator could steal him away.

The shower had gone quiet.

Cyrus rolled off his bed, unable to lie still with Kane moving around outside.

He found Kane in the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing the silk pajamas Cyrus had bought him.

The scent of the expensive shower gel—sandalwood and bergamot—drifted through the air, mixing with Kane’s natural scent in a way that made Cyrus’s chest tighten.

Kane stretched to reach a high shelf, the movement lifting his shirt just enough to reveal a strip of pale skin.

"Looking for something?"

Kane startled, spinning around with a box of crackers clutched to his chest.

"Goodness, you’re like a ghost! I was just—" He gestured at the pantry. "Hungry again. That fancy dinner was basically appetizers."

"Want some?"

Kane held up the box of crackers, water droplets from his hair catching the light.

A droplet slid down Kane’s temple, following the curve of his jaw before disappearing beneath his collar.

Cyrus forced himself to focus on Kane’s face instead.

"There’s leftover steak in the refrigerator."

"At midnight? My stomach isn’t that ambitious." Kane shook the crackers. "This’ll do."

He padded to the counter, leaving damp footprints in his wake.

Cyrus watched him move through the kitchen like he belonged there.

Like he’d always belonged there.

Cyrus stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, watching Kane settle onto a barstool with his snack.

The fox’s hair was falling across his forehead in a way that made Cyrus’s fingers itch to brush them back.

"You’re staring again."

Kane’s voice cut through the silence, amber eyes meeting his with curious warmth.

Cyrus cleared his throat, forcing himself to step back.

"Are you finished in the bathroom?"

The question came out more abruptly than intended, but Kane didn’t seem to notice.

"Yeah, all yours. I left the fan on—the mirror was pretty fogged up."

Kane crunched on a cracker, crumbs scattering across the marble counter.

"Thanks for today, by the way. The amusement park was..." He paused, searching for words.

"I haven’t had fun like that in... god, I don’t even remember when. Not since I was a kid, maybe.

Kane’s voice, filled with simple honesty, caused a dangerous feeling to shift in Cyrus’s chest.

He needed distance. Space to think without Kane’s scent clouding his judgment or those amber eyes watching his every move.

Cyrus turned away before he could do something foolish.

Like stepping closer.

Like asking Kane to stay forever.

Like giving in to the dragon instincts demanding he claim what his heart already knew belonged to him.

Cyrus stepped into the bathroom, still warm and humid from Kane’s shower.

The mirror remained fogged, just as Kane had said, obscuring his reflection in a way that felt fitting.

He turned the water to its coldest setting and stepped under the spray, hissing as the icy streams hit his overheated skin.

The shock of cold water should have cleared his head, but Kane’s presence lingered everywhere—in the lingering steam, the damp towel hanging on the rack, and the faint impression of his scent on the air.

Cyrus pressed his palms against the tile wall, letting the freezing water cascade down his back.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want more with Kane.

The wanting burned through him constantly, a low ember that flared to dangerous heights whenever the fox smiled or touched him or fell asleep, trusting enough to be vulnerable.

But Kane kept him at arm’s length with casual jokes and deflecting humor, treating their connection like it meant nothing more than convenient proximity.

One wrong move could shatter whatever fragile trust existed between them.

Cyrus couldn’t risk destroying the only real connection he’d had in centuries.

Not when losing Kane would leave him truly alone.

Cyrus finished his shower, the cold water finally tempering the fire that had been burning beneath his skin all evening.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out, running another towel through his damp hair.

The penthouse had gone quiet. He found Kane exactly where he’d expected: curled up on the living room couch, fast asleep.

Cyrus stood in the shadows, watching the rise and fall of Kane’s chest.

How long could they continue like this?

Cyrus moved toward the kitchen counter where the plushies sat side by side—the white fox nestled against the larger dragon.

His fingers closed around the soft fox, its fabric still holding the faintest trace of carnival scents.

Cyrus returned to his bedroom, the plush fox clutched against his chest.

He slid between the silk sheets, pulling the soft toy close until Kane’s lingering scent filled his senses.

The dragon closed his eyes, pretending the warmth pressed against him belonged to someone real.