Page 38 of The Purrfect Rival

THIRTY-THREE

Rust bolted upright in bed, a growl lodged in his throat. Fragments of his dream lingered—copper hair sliding through his fingers, crimson magic twining with his gold, Kalyna’s lips curving into that secret smile she reserved only for him. His heart hammered against his ribs as sweat cooled on his skin.

The digital clock read 5:07 AM. Too early to rise, but sleep now seemed impossible. His lion paced restlessly beneath his skin, demanding action, demanding her.

Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his bedroom. Rust pushed back the silk sheets and strode to the glass, naked and unconcerned. The view from his hillside manor normally calmed him—the town nestled below, the ancient forest beyond, the mist-shrouded waterfall eternally cascading into depths no one had measured.

Tonight, the vista only emphasized what was missing: her.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. Two centuries of careful control, of measured decisions, and strategic restraint, undone in weeks by a librarian with clever eyes and a spine of steel.

In the reflection, his eyes glowed golden with his lion’s impatience. No use fighting it anymore. Kalyna Foxworthy was his mate. His lion had recognized it the moment their magic sparked between them. His human side had finally caught up.

Rust showered and dressed methodically, the routine grounding him despite his inner turmoil. The council meeting loomed ahead—a political minefield he’d need to navigate while Boz plotted against him and clan divisions deepened.

None of it mattered as much as finding a way forward with Kalyna.

He stepped into his expansive closet, the motion-activated lights illuminating rows of meticulously organized suits and accessories. His hand reached automatically for his regular navy tie, then froze midair.

The tie rack—his collection of conservative, solid-colored silk ties—displayed something entirely different. Every single tie now featured intricate patterns of foxes. He snatched one up, holding it to the light. The small red foxes moved across the fabric, their tails swishing when viewed from different angles.

“What the?—”

He rifled through them one by one. A burgundy tie where tiny foxes curled up sleeping. A charcoal one with foxes playfully leaping. Each responded to his touch, the enchanted vulpines turning to face him with minute crimson eyes.

His first reaction should have been outrage. His private space violated, his possessions tampered with. Instead, unexpected laughter rumbled from his chest. The pure audacity of it—enchanting every tie in his collection with such detailed illusion work.

Echo’s magical signature, similar to Kalyna’s but more impish, clung to the fabric. The kid must’ve planted a charm on Rust’s shirt or pants during dinner that activated after he’d changed his clothes in the bedroom last night. Ingenious.

Rust’s fingers traced one of the patterns, watching the foxes chase his movement. His lion rumbled with approval rather than irritation.

After deliberate consideration, he selected the navy tie with the subtlest pattern—tiny foxes that only revealed themselves when they caught the light. He knotted it with precise movements, the enchanted silk warm against his fingers.

In the full-length mirror, he studied his reflection. The powerful set of his shoulders, the intensity of his golden-flecked eyes, the perfectly tailored charcoal suit—and now, the fox-patterned tie at his throat.

A declaration, then. Let the council see exactly where he stood.

THIRTY-FOUR

“Someone got marked by a fox.”

Hezron’s voice held barely suppressed laughter as he sauntered into Rust’s home office without knocking.

Rust didn’t look up from the council documents spread across his desk. “Good morning to you too.”

“Nice tie.” Hezron dropped into the leather chair opposite Rust, crossing his ankles on the corner of the desk. “The little foxes do a backflip when you say her name. Watch—Kalyna Foxworthy.”

Rust’s gaze flicked involuntarily to his tie where the tiny foxes indeed performed a synchronized flip. A smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. Echo had thought of everything.

“Can’t decide if I should fire my security team for letting fox shifter magic into my closet, or commend them for their discretion,” Rust mused, setting aside a document.

“Oh please.” Hezron rolled his eyes. “You’re wearing it voluntarily. You’re practically strutting.”

Heat crawled up Rust’s neck. “I’m making a point.”

“You’re making several.” Hezron leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Half the town saw you having dinner with her familyyesterday. You arriving at council with fox magic literally wrapped around your neck? You’re as subtle as a charging rhino.”

“Maybe I’m done with subtle.” Rust met his friend’s gaze directly. “We’re mates. She knows it. I know it. My lion knew it from the first moment.”

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