Page 28 of The Purrfect Rival

A masked attacker seized the opportunity, lunging into her blind spot. Sharp metal sliced across her forearm, bringing not just pain but an unnatural burning sensation that spread outward from the wound. Kalyna gasped, her illusions flickering as her concentration wavered. The blade hadn’t cut deep, but something was wrong—the burning intensified, spiraling up her arm toward her shoulder.

Rust’s reaction transformed the very air around them. A roar erupted from his throat—not human, not entirely lion, but something primal that shook dust from the rafters and made the metal shelving units tremble. The sound vibrated through Kalyna’s chest, simultaneously terrifying and thrilling her fox.

He moved with breathtaking speed, dispatching her attacker with an efficiency that bordered on brutal. The remainingassailants scattered, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they’d emerged.

Kneeling beside her, Rust’s golden eyes searched hers, concern etched across his features.

“The blade,” she gasped out, “was poisoned.”

“How can I help?”

“You can’t. I need a healer. And right now.” Her vision grew dim quickly.

“Yes, I can,” Rust growled. He ripped the sleeve from her shirt, revealing the slice in her arm. He hesitated, visibly struggling. “It requires something... intimate.”

Understanding dawned. “The healing properties in lion saliva,” she whispered. Ancient texts had mentioned this, though she’d never expected to experience it firsthand.

Rust nodded, his expression guarded as if expecting rejection. Instead, Kalyna extended her arm, her fox urging trust without hesitation while her human side registered the vulnerability of the gesture.

His warm fingers encircled her wrist, steadying her arm as he leaned down. The first touch of his tongue against her wound sent shockwaves through her system—not just healing but pleasure that made her gasp aloud.

Heat exploded from the point of contact, racing through her veins like liquid fire. Where their skin connected, a cascade of sensations rippled outward—her crimson magic and his golden energy intertwining in spiraling patterns that seemed to sink beneath flesh and bone, binding something deeper than physical bodies.

The wound began to close, poison neutralized by whatever enzymes his saliva contained. But the physical healing was secondary to the magical connection forged in that moment. Kalyna felt her barriers dissolving; this man so different from herself might be exactly what her deepest self needed.

TWENTY-FIVE

Their eyes locked, both breathing heavily. Something fundamental shifted between them, a barrier crumbling that Kalyna hadn’t even realized existed.

“Kalyna,” he growled, her name transformed into something primal in his mouth, barely human.

She swayed toward him without conscious thought, her fox dominating her responses, urging closer, seeking completion of something that had begun the moment they’d first locked eyes across the council chamber. Her entire body hummed with awareness, magic rushing beneath her skin in response to his proximity.

“I can’t fight this anymore,” Rust whispered, pulling her against him.

Their lips met in a kiss that felt like inevitability—passionate, consuming, necessary. His mouth claimed hers with a hunger that matched her own, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pressed against her lower back, eliminating any space between them. Kalyna melted into him, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as she returned his kiss with equal fervor.

Her fox reveled in his possessiveness, in the strength of his embrace and the certainty of his touch. The human part ofher that might have resisted such dominance quieted beneath a flood of sensation—the solid warmth of his chest against hers, his intoxicating scent surrounding her, the perfect pressure of his mouth as it moved with increasing urgency against her own.

Their magic erupted in a silent thunderclap, sending a shockwave of energy outward that momentarily stilled the air around them. The warehouse filled with their combined power—not visible light but a pressure wave that raised goose bumps on skin and made the surrounding metal groan. Crates toppled, packing scattered, dust motes froze in midair, and for a split second, sound itself seemed to vanish before rushing back with heightened clarity. Even Hezron, squinting through tear-filled eyes, staggered back a step from the invisible force.

When they finally parted, Rust’s forehead rested against hers, his breathing ragged. “Mine,” he whispered, the word carrying such raw need that Kalyna’s fox instantly agreed, recognizing something primal and true in his claim.

A tremor ran through her at the declaration. Her fox practically purred in response, wanting nothing more than to press against him again, to surrender to the magnetic pull between them. But her human side—the part that remembered centuries of fox-lion rivalry, that valued independence and autonomy—pulled back slightly.

“I don’t know... there’s so much going on,” she murmured, though she made no move to increase the distance between them. Her hands remained splayed against his chest, feeling the powerful heartbeat beneath her palms.

His expression darkened with determination, fingers gently tracing her cheek. “This, what’s happening between us, is much more special than pride politics.”

The truth of his words resonated within her. What she felt for Rust transcended the superficial differences between their species—it connected to something elemental, something thatmade her fox recognize his lion as its perfect complement despite every expectation she’d carried through her long life.

Yet generations of ingrained caution couldn’t be dismissed so easily.

Before she could respond, movement flashed in her peripheral vision—a final attacker lunging from the shadows with a raised blade.

Without words or planning, Kalyna and Rust moved in perfect concert. She cast multiple illusions, each one perfect enough to momentarily throw the assailant off balance while Rust struck with deadly precision. Their synchronized movements demonstrated a harmony that transcended conscious thought as though they’d fought together for centuries rather than days.

The warehouse fell silent except for their heavy breathing and Hezron’s occasional sniffles. Lucella emerged from behind a stack of crates, wide-eyed but unharmed.

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