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."
