Chapter 156: The Right Moment

Chapter 156: Chapter 156: The Right Moment

Chapter 156: The Right Moment

Rhea Maddox did not tell Cyrus Calder the whole truth.

What she had said about being drawn to his obsession with freedom was real enough. That quality had fascinated her from the beginning.

It simply was not the entire reason.

Rhea had lived most of her life following a path someone else prepared.

Her parents were Firebirds who had survived inside human society for years without exposing what they were. Unlike rare-blood families that raised their children to hide quietly and avoid attention, Rhea’s parents had chosen the opposite approach.

They raised her to excel.

From childhood, everything had been arranged around that expectation.

School.

Extracurricular activities.

University.

Career.

Even the way she presented herself in public.

Human society already contained people considered exceptional, so there was no need for a gifted child to disappear into the background. Rhea only needed to remain outstanding without becoming impossible.

She managed that easily.

Elementary school, middle school, high school, and college all passed with Rhea occupying more or less the same position.

People noticed her.

Teachers praised her.

Classmates admired her.

Opportunities appeared before she needed to ask.

She entered law enforcement and continued climbing without anyone realizing that the talented young woman among them was not entirely human.

Nothing had gone wrong.

That was almost the problem.

At some point, Rhea began wondering whether the life she lived actually belonged to her.

Every stage had followed the previous one so smoothly that it felt less like choosing and more like performing from a script written before she was old enough to understand it.

She had never hated her parents.

Their plans had worked.

Her education was excellent.

Her career was stable.

Her life, from the outside, was exactly the kind people were supposed to envy.

Yet the predictability eventually became suffocating.

During the period when Rhea first started questioning it, she became more aware of how many different ways humans chose to live.

Some people rejected everything expected of them.

Some surrendered control willingly.

Some chased danger.

Some built lives that made no sense to anyone else and were perfectly happy anyway.

Rhea never found a neat answer for herself.

Perhaps she was simply tired of always being the one in control.

That possibility had led her toward interests she had previously only observed from a distance.

Maybe what she wanted was someone who could take that control from her.

The problem was that anyone deliberately trying to impress her immediately became uninteresting.

Then Cyrus appeared behind the bar at The Full Moon Lounge.

He did not seek her attention.

He did not care about her position.

He barely reacted to flirting.

The more she approached, the more naturally he resisted.

At first, that resistance made her want him to take control even more.

Then last weekend changed something.

When Cyrus restrained her and left her waiting for hours, Rhea had discovered another kind of satisfaction.

Having his cool hands control her had been intoxicating.

Yet taking control of him herself had awakened something equally powerful.

Perhaps even stronger.

Maybe she did not need to choose between surrendering and controlling.

With Cyrus, she wanted both.

Rhea glanced toward the bed.

Cyrus was still wrapped in the blanket in his smaller Frostborn form, watching her with obvious caution.

She had no intention of explaining everything she had just thought.

Some things were better left unsaid.

Rhea finished dressing and picked up a clean set of clothes she had prepared for him.

She tossed them onto the bed.

Cyrus looked at them but did not immediately move.

Remaining in his childlike form had one practical advantage.

His biological reactions were much less aggressive like this, which meant he did not immediately need his suppressants.

After the previous night, his body could probably use the rest anyway.

Cyrus pulled the blanket a little higher.

Rhea glanced back at him.

"I still have one question."

Cyrus immediately became wary.

"What are you asking?"

"What rare-blood line are you?"

Cyrus’s eyes lowered.

He had expected that question eventually.

"Sorry, but I do not remember enough about it."

A trace of worry entered his expression.

"I only know that whenever I turn small like this, I lose part of my memory."

Rhea stopped.

"You lose memories when this happens?"

Her surprise sounded genuine.

Cyrus nodded.

"That is what seems to happen."

Rhea’s expression shifted into immediate regret.

"I did not know that. I am sorry."

Cyrus shook his head lightly.

"It is not something you could have known."

Rhea accepted the explanation more easily than he expected.

The world contained enough rare-bloods with strange biological traits that an unfamiliar curse did not sound impossible.

More importantly, after everything that had happened between them, Rhea instinctively assumed Cyrus was finally telling her the truth.

A different thought soon followed.

If every transformation erased more of his memory, then forcing him into this form repeatedly might eventually leave him almost completely blank.

A person with no past.

No complicated attachments.

No woman from whatever life he had escaped.

Rhea’s eyes shifted slightly.

That possibility was dangerous.

It was also tempting.

Cyrus noticed the subtle change and continued before she could dwell on it.

"The feeling of being incomplete is difficult to explain."

His childish voice softened.

"Sometimes it feels like pieces of me keep disappearing, and I cannot even tell exactly what used to be there."

Rhea looked at him.

Cyrus let a quiet sadness enter his expression.

"There is one thing I keep hoping for."

"What are you hoping to find?"

"I want to know what I actually am."

He paused.

"And I want to find a way to recover all of my memories."

A little hope entered his voice.

"Would you help me with that?"

Rhea answered without hesitation.

"I would help you."

The sincerity in her voice was real.

So were the thoughts she kept to herself.

She had not forgotten the fragments of Cyrus’s story she heard at the lounge.

There was still a woman somewhere in his past.

Someone Cyrus feared.

Someone he had not completely forgotten.

Helping him recover every missing memory might also mean helping him remember exactly what relationship he once had with that woman.

What if the truth was not as simple as Cyrus claimed?

What if there had been affection mixed into whatever happened?

Rhea had no intention of doing months of work only to deliver him back into someone else’s arms.

She was not that charitable.

Helping him investigate his condition was one thing.

Restoring every memory without knowing what those memories contained was another.

Maybe allowing a few more accidental transformations would not be such a terrible outcome.

Or perhaps there were other ways to make sure that, whatever his mind forgot, the strongest instincts left behind pointed toward her.

Those possibilities could be considered later.

Any future incident would need to look accidental or have a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Cyrus watched Rhea carefully.

Her promise had sounded convincing.

That was enough for now.

The important part was that his story had given her a reason to hesitate before forcing another transformation.

He had used almost the same principle with Daphne.

Give someone only part of the truth.

Let the missing information do the rest.

Knowing a little was often more useful than knowing everything.

It was an information gap, and Cyrus intended to use it.

If he had managed to explain this last night before Rhea gagged him, he might never have ended up unconscious.

That was an irritating lesson.

He also needed to check his memory immediately after returning home.

Rhea eventually left the bedroom.

Once she was gone, Cyrus climbed out of bed and returned to his normal form.

The clean clothes she provided were actually his own.

The stains from the red drink had disappeared, and the fabric carried a faint clean scent.

Rhea had apparently washed everything sometime after he lost consciousness.

Cyrus dressed and walked into the living room.

His first glance went toward the front door.

"Does your door work again?"

Rhea, who had been preparing something in the kitchen, paused.

"You are already leaving?"

"I should go home."

"Why not stay for breakfast?"

Cyrus lowered his eyes.

"Thank you, but I would rather head back."

He did not elaborate.

Rhea understood why.

She had moved too aggressively last night.

It had been satisfying in the moment, but the aftermath made one thing obvious.

If she wanted Cyrus to remain close willingly, future attempts required better timing.

She looked at him for a moment.

Rhea’s throat moved faintly when she noticed he had completely returned to his normal appearance.

She knew this was not the right moment to stop him.

"I can drive you home."

"I would rather go myself."

Rhea did not insist.

"Then be careful. If anything happens, contact me immediately."

"I will remember that."

Cyrus nodded.

He opened the door as soon as he confirmed it actually worked.

Rhea had just started to say something else when he disappeared into the hallway.

She stared after him.

A quiet complaint left her lips.

"I already said I was not going to do anything. You did not need to leave that quickly."

Even Rhea knew the statement was not especially convincing.

She returned to the kitchen.

Next time, she would need to think things through more carefully.

Cyrus reached the street and called a rideshare almost immediately.

Once he was inside, Grayhaven began sliding past the window.

He finally allowed himself to review the situation.

There was good news.

Rhea had probably become a genuine safeguard now.

There was also bad news.

The price had been far higher than Cyrus ever intended to pay.

His phone vibrated.

Another transfer from Rhea.

Cyrus stared at the amount but did not accept it immediately.

After several seconds, he locked the screen.

Maybe accepting it was not completely unreasonable.

There were expenses attached to his condition.

Suppressants were not cheap.

Rhea knew that.

This was also the second time she had paid him.

At some point, repeatedly refusing compensation would become more awkward than taking it.

More importantly, Rhea’s abilities were valuable.

If Isolde returned, having a Firebird on his side might be extremely useful.

That thought made the entire disaster slightly easier to tolerate.

Only slightly.

As soon as Cyrus returned to his apartment, he went straight to the nightstand and pulled out his diary.

He checked the latest entries.

Then he checked his own memories.

Nothing was missing.

Cyrus stopped.

That was different.

The previous forced loss of consciousness had cost him another year.

Last night, however, the extreme heat had knocked him out without the ring taking anything noticeable.

His attention dropped toward his hand.

The ring sat around his finger as lightly as ever.

Cyrus remembered something else.

On several previous occasions, the ring had emitted an unusual cool sensation.

Could high temperatures somehow interfere with whatever mechanism allowed it to steal memories?

The possibility was interesting.

It was also only speculation.

Cyrus refused to write it into the diary as though it were confirmed.

One strange result was not enough evidence.

He turned instead to the page filled with names.

After considering for a moment, Cyrus found Rhea Maddox.

He drew one small star beside her name.

Firebird.

Detective.

Official resources.

Strong enough to physically oppose him.

Potentially useful against Isolde.

One star seemed fair.

Cyrus recorded the important parts of the previous day while deliberately leaving out anything unnecessary.

By the time he finished, exhaustion had returned.

He closed the diary.

All he wanted now was more sleep.

Cyrus had barely set the notebook down when someone knocked on his apartment door.