A Pact Between Predators

Cyrus stepped aside, his movement a reluctant surrender to their shared predicament.

"Get in."

Kane stumbled through the doorway, still pale but with a flicker of smugness playing across his features.

He steadied himself against the wall, his amber eyes darting around the penthouse as if seeing it for the first time.

The air between them crackled with unspoken frustration, heavy as storm clouds before the lightning.

Cyrus closed the door with unnecessary force, the sound echoing through the space like a thunderclap.

"Sit." Cyrus pointed toward a sleek leather chair in the corner.

Not the comfortable couch, not the inviting armchair by the window—the most isolated, least comfortable seat in the room.

"Aren't you gonna offer me a drink?" Kane's voice was strained but carried that infuriating lightness. "I'll take coffee, black, two sugars. Being magically bound really takes it out of you."

Cyrus didn't acknowledge the request.

He remained standing, arms crossed, his red eyes fixed on Kane with the intensity of a predator calculating its next move.

"We need to negotiate the terms of this... unwanted bond." Cyrus's voice was cold steel wrapped in velvet.

"Starting with practical matters. How far can we distance ourselves from each other without triggering the pain?"

Kane slumped into the chair, his fox ears twitching slightly.

"Not entirely sure. The lore's fuzzy on specifics." He ran a hand through his silvery hair.

"Though I do remember something interesting."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"The bond is easier for those who've embraced their fate." Kane's lips curved into a mischievous smile.

"So maybe if you stop looking at me like I'm something you scraped off your shoe, we'd both suffer less."

Cyrus's jaw tightened. The gold flecks in his red eyes seemed to intensify.

"Embrace our fate?" The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

"This isn't fate."

"Call it what you want." Kane shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement.

"But fighting it only makes it worse. The seal responds to our emotions—resistance amplifies the pain."

Cyrus turned away, his profile sharp against the city lights beyond the window.

Kane leaned forward, studying the rigid line of Cyrus's shoulders against the city skyline.

The dragon's silhouette cut a stark figure—powerful, isolated, and absolutely furious.

"My turn for a question," Kane said, drumming his knuckles against the chair's edge.

Kane leaned forward, his ears perking up in response to a practical concern.

"So, what's the plan for Monday morning? You've got your dragon CEO duties, and I've got a stack of case files waiting at the Bureau." He gestured between them with a circular motion.

"This magical tether isn't exactly compatible with our day jobs."

Cyrus's shoulders tensed, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. He hadn't considered the logistics beyond getting through the immediate crisis.

"I don't know." The admission seemed to cost him something.

Kane's eyebrows shot up.

"No plan? I expected more from the great Cyrus Veyr Drakhal.

A muscle twitched in Cyrus's jaw.

"I've never been bound to an irritating fox spirit before. There's no precedent for this situation."

"Well, I can't exactly call in sick indefinitely. And something tells me you're not the type to miss board meetings." Kane tapped his fingers against the armrest.

"Plus, I'm still investigating those spirit traffickers. The ones using your company's name."

Cyrus turned back toward Kane, his expression calculating.

"Perhaps that's where we start."

The silence stretched between them, elastic and tense.

"Wait—what if I worked for you?" Kane's ears perked with sudden inspiration.

"You could…hire me as your personal security.

"Very convincing cover story. I follow you around, you get to keep tabs on me, and we both avoid crippling magical pain."

Cyrus's laugh was sudden and sharp, startling them both with its rarity.

"You? My personal security?" He gestured at Kane's frame, then at himself, the six inches of height difference between them suddenly more pronounced.

"You couldn't even handle a single corrupted spirit without nearly dying."

Kane's ears flattened against his head, amber eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I was ambushed." His tail swished with agitation.

"You got a better idea, then? Because I don't see you coming up with solutions."

Cyrus's expression shifted from amusement to calculation, red eyes assessing Kane with renewed interest.

"How about being my personal assistant?" he countered smoothly.

"You'll observe my schedule, assist with meetings, and remain within proximity." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Essentially, my errand boy."

Kane's jaw dropped.

"I'm a federal agent, not your servant."

"You're a federal agent who needs a cover story and proximity to me. While I need someone who can fetch me coffee without complaining." Cyrus straightened his already perfect cuffs.

"Unless you prefer the pain?"

Kane's ears twitched in irritation. He glared at Cyrus for a long moment.

"Fine," he muttered.

"And your Bureau superiors would approve this arrangement?"

Kane's smile faltered slightly.

"Well, that's a wrinkle. But I'm sure they'd understand once I explain about the life-threatening magical bond that's literally burning into my chest."

"Speaking of the Bureau, I need to check in," Kane said, his tail swishing thoughtfully.

"Then after that, I need to pack up my apartment."

Cyrus's brow furrowed. "Pack up your apartment?"

"Obviously I need to move in with you." Kane gestured between them as if explaining something to a child.

"Unless you'd prefer to relocate to my crappy one-bedroom apartment in the old district? The walls are thin enough to hear my neighbor's existential crises at 3 AM."

Cyrus stared at him, the reality of their situation sinking in with new weight. His carefully ordered life was unraveling by the minute.

"My penthouse only has one bedroom," he said stiffly.

"I noticed." Kane's lips quirked upward.

"But that couch I've been sleeping on these past few days is nicer than my actual bed."

Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly.

The thought of sharing his private sanctuary with this chaotic fox spirit made something cold settle in his stomach.

"Fine. The couch is yours."

"Great!" Kane's grin was bright enough to power the city.

"First stop, the Bureau. I need to explain why I'm suddenly playing assistant to the CEO I was investigating."

"Don't worry, I won't tell them we're spiritually cohabiting… yet."

Cyrus grabbed his coat from the rack with obvious irritation.

"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered.

"Probably," Kane agreed cheerfully. "But at least we'll be in pain together."