Chapter 97: Love And Locked Doors

Kane felt the world tilt, his fox ears flattening against his skull beneath the glamour.

The confession hung between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility and danger.

"Cyrus..."

"I know it’s complicated." Cyrus’s voice carried a desperate edge, his dragon aura pulsing with barely contained emotion.

"I know you have your job, your life at the Bureau. I know I’m possessive and controlling and—"

"Stop." Kane commanded. His mind went blank, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

The flutter in his chest felt dangerous, like standing too close to a cliff edge.

"Right. Very funny." Kane forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to his own ears.

"The great Cyrus Veyr Drakhal, last of the black dragons, in love with his fake disaster-prone assistant."

The joke fell flat. Cyrus didn’t even crack a smile.

"This isn’t a joke, Kane."

The words hit like a physical blow. Kane’s amber eyes searched Cyrus’s face, looking for any hint of deception. He found none.

Something warm and terrifying unfurled in his chest—recognition, maybe, or the echo of feelings he’d been shoving down for weeks.

How could he explain that sometimes, when Cyrus looked at him with those burning red eyes, Kane felt like he was home?

How could he admit that the thought of losing their bond had terrified him more than any rogue spirit?

"You can’t just—" Kane’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat, trying again.

"You can’t just say that and expect me to know what to do with it."

Cyrus stared at Kane’s stricken expression, the dragon in him recoiling at the pain he’d caused.

What had he expected? That Kane would melt into his arms, confess matching feelings, and solve everything with a kiss like those ridiculous romance novels hidden in his man cave?

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of centuries of guarded emotions that had finally been breached.

"You’re right." Cyrus’s voice came out rougher than intended. "I don’t know what I expected you to do with it."

This was precisely why he’d kept his feelings locked away for so long—why he’d convinced himself that wanting Kane was just dragon instinct, just possessiveness.

Love was vulnerability. Love was handing someone the power to destroy you.

"I’ve spent centuries keeping people at a distance," he continued, not looking at Kane.

"It’s safer. Cleaner. Less..."

"Less what?"

Kane’s voice was softer now, curious rather than defensive.

"Less chance of watching everything burn again."

The admission tasted like ash in his mouth. He’d revealed too much, gone too far.

Kane’s chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped steel bands around his ribs and started cranking.

He needed space. Air. Anything but the weight of Cyrus’s burning gaze in those red eyes.

"I need—" Kane gestured vaguely toward the door. "Water. Just need some water."

His legs felt unsteady as he moved toward the exit, his hand already reaching for the handle.

The door clicked shut the moment his fingers touched it.

Not slammed—just a gentle press of Cyrus’s palm against the wood, his other hand braced against the frame.

Kane could smell Cyrus’s cologne and feel the heat radiating from his body as he leaned close.

"Please." The word came out barely above a whisper.

"Don’t walk away from this. From me."

Cyrus wasn’t caging him in; Kane could easily slip under his arm and could push past him if he really wanted to leave. ℯ

But something in that broken "please" rooted Kane’s feet to the floor.

Kane’s hand dropped from the door handle, his shoulders sagging.

"I’m not running away."

"Aren’t you?"

The challenge in Cyrus’s voice made Kane turn around, and suddenly they were inches apart.

Kane could see flecks of gold swimming in those red eyes and could feel Cyrus’s breath against his cheek.

"You tell me you love me, and I’m supposed to what—just accept it? Pretend everything makes sense now?"

Kane’s voice rose, frustration bleeding through.

"Nothing about this is normal, Cyrus. We’re magically bonded, I’m supposed to be investigating you, and now you’re—"

"Now I’m what?"

"Looking at me like that."

Cyrus’s gaze had gone molten, intense in a way that made Kane’s fox instincts skitter between fight and flight.

"Like what?"

"Like you want to devour me."

The words slipped out before Kane could stop them, and Cyrus’s pupils dilated, his dragon aura flaring crimson around the edges.

"Maybe I do."

Kane felt impossibly small pressed against the door, Cyrus’s presence overwhelming him from mere inches away.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—weeks ago, he’d been the one trying to force his way past the door while Cyrus blocked him out.

Now their positions had reversed, with Kane desperate to escape and Cyrus refusing to let him go.

The parallel struck him as almost funny, if it weren’t for the way his heart hammered against his ribs.

Back then, Kane had been fueled by determination and professional duty, pushing against an immovable force.

Now he felt like prey caught in a predator’s sights; every nerve screamed at him to run, but his body wouldn’t obey.

"This is backwards," Kane whispered, more to himself than to Cyrus.

"What is?"

"You. Me. This." Kane gestured weakly between them.

"Before, you were trying to keep me out. Now you’re trying to keep me in."

Cyrus’s expression softened slightly, understanding flickering in those red depths.

"Maybe I was wrong then," he said quietly. "Maybe I should have let you in from the beginning."

The confession cracked something inside Kane. His resolve collapsed under the weight of it.

"Okay," Kane whispered, chest tight. "Okay, you’re right."

He slumped against the door, suddenly exhausted.

"We should probably figure this out before Isabelle and Rina get back."

Cyrus stepped back to give Kane space to breathe, but he kept his eyes on Kane’s face.

"The couch?"

Kane nodded, his legs still unsteady as he pushed off from the door.

They moved to the sitting area like two people approaching a live bomb, careful and deliberate.

The leather cushions had never felt more significant.