Page 46 of The Purrfect Rival

Two centuries of cautious dating had never produced this stomach-flipping, magic-disrupting reaction. She’d read enough novels to recognize the symptoms, but experiencing them firsthand left her breathless.

Not that she’d admit any of this to Lucella. Her friend would never let her hear the end of it.

FORTY-ONE

The community festival transformed the town square into swirls of color and magic. Kalyna directed the final touches on the library’s “Literary Legacy” tent, arranging display cases of first editions whose magic-infused pages glowed beneath protective glass. Her specially crafted story spheres—illusions that enveloped visitors in classic tales when touched—hovered at eye level.

“The ‘Books & Sweets’ station needs more room,” she told a volunteer. “Tilly’s bringing extra pastries.”

The volunteer nodded, moving a bookshelf. Kalyna stepped back, surveying their work. Despite everything—council politics, magical sabotage, assassination attempts—the festival reminded her why she loved this quirky, magical town.

“Impressive setup.” The timbre of his voice alone triggered an immediate response from her fox—a combination of recognition and yearning that had grown stronger since their magical merger.

She turned to find Rust standing at the tent entrance, his usual formality softened by the casual elegance of dark jeans and a button-down shirt with rolled sleeves. Without his mayoral suit, he appeared both more approachable and somehow moredangerous—the careful political facade stripped away to reveal the predator beneath.

Her gaze lingered on the way fabric pulled across his shoulders when he moved, the confident set of his stance that spoke of contained power. The sight momentarily stole her ability to form coherent thoughts.

Stop ogling the man like he’s a rare first edition.

“Mayor Leonid,” she managed, unconsciously smoothing her vintage-inspired burgundy dress. “Come to inspect our progress?”

“Actually, I brought reinforcements.” He gestured to Hezron, who held a crate of ancient books. “From the Leonid private collection. My mother thought they might complement your historical display.”

Surprise stole her voice. The Leonid family rarely shared their archives with outsiders. That Aurelia would offer these precious volumes spoke volumes.

“That’s... incredibly generous,” she finally said, leading them toward the display area. “Please thank your mother for me.”

As they arranged artifacts on protected tables, Kalyna couldn’t help but notice how Rust handled each item with reverent care. His fingers—the same ones that had transformed into deadly claws in her defense—traced the spine of a leather-bound journal with exquisite gentleness. The contrast made her mouth dry.

“This chronicle records the founding days,” he explained, opening to a map on yellowed parchment. “My grandfather showed it to me when I was five. I could barely read the runes, but I remember being fascinated by the waterfall illustration.”

Kalyna leaned closer, their shoulders nearly touching. Heat radiated from him, that distinctive lion warmth that made her want to curl against his side. “The artist captured the magical mist perfectly.

“My father took me to every festival,” Rust continued, voice softening. “He’d hoist me onto his shoulders during the lantern ceremony so I could see above the crowd.”

The image of stern, powerful Rust as a wide-eyed cub perched on his father’s shoulders made something in Kalyna’s chest crack open. This glimpse of his childhood vulnerability touched her in ways his strength never could. He carried such responsibility, such legacy—yet part of him remained that boy watching lanterns with wonder.

“My grandmother created special illusions just for me,” she offered in return, surprising herself. “Tiny fox-fire creatures that only I could see. They’d dance around other festival-goers, and I’d giggle while adults wondered what amused me so much.”

Rust smiled—not his careful public smile, but something genuine that transformed his entire face. The lines around his eyes crinkled, revealing a man who smiled too rarely. Kalyna found herself wanting to catalog each variation of his expressions, to learn what made that particular smile appear.

“I would have liked to see that,” he said, “little Kalyna laughing at secret magic while everyone else remained oblivious.”

Heat blossomed in her chest at the way he said her name—the subtle emphasis on the second syllable that no one else ever quite managed. From his lips, her name sounded like something precious.

“I haven’t thought about that in decades,” she admitted.

Their eyes met over the ancient map, something unspoken passing between them. For a crystalline moment, neither was mayor nor librarian, lion nor fox—just two people connected by shared memories of magic and wonder.

“I bet you asked too many questions,” Rust said, breaking the spell with unexpected playfulness. “Demanded explanations for every magical principle before you’d accept it.”

Kalyna laughed, delighted by this glimpse of humor from him. “You’re not entirely wrong. And I suspect you organized the other cubs into efficient play groups.”

“My mother would confirm that assessment,” he acknowledged wryly.

This easy exchange revealed facets of Rust she’d never witnessed—humor, vulnerability, warmth. The public image of Mayor Leonid—stern, controlled, remote—seemed suddenly two-dimensional compared to the complex man before her. Her fox, already drawn to his strength and protection, now purred with deeper appreciation.

A crash from outside shattered their moment. Lucella stood amid scattered display materials, batting innocently at a fallen banner pole.

---