Page 48 of The Purrfect Rival

“Two centuries of friendship,” he said dryly to Kalyna, “and I’m still waiting for the benefits.”

“At least I keep things interesting,” Hezron countered.

FORTY-THREE

Watching their easy banter, Kalyna saw beyond Rust’s public persona to the man beneath—one capable of loyalty, humor, and genuine connection. The realization deepened her attraction beyond merely physical response or magical compatibility.

As twilight approached, festival attendants lit enchanted lanterns throughout the square. The dance performances—a festival highlight—prepared to begin on the main stage.

“You should participate,” Kalyna suggested as lion dancers gathered. “I bet you remember the steps.”

“Only if you join your clan’s dance as well,” Rust countered, challenge sparking in his gaze.

The intensity in those golden-flecked eyes sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the evening breeze. Her fox stirred in response to the unspoken invitation beneath his words.Dance with me. Move with me. Join me.

Before she could respond, announcers called both fox and lion groups to take positions. Due to scheduling confusion, both performances would occur simultaneously—one at each end of the extended stage.

Kalyna took her place among the fox dancers, sneaking glances toward the lion section where Rust stood, his reluctance evident despite Hezron’s cajoling. Even in this casual setting, dignity clung to him like a second skin. The thought of seeing that composure dissolve—of being the cause of its dissolution—sent heat spiraling through her core.

As traditional instruments played overlapping melodies, something unexpected happened. Instead of chaos, the contrasting styles began responding to one another. Fox illusions wove through lion movements; lion strength displays provided perfect backdrops for fox precision.

Without conscious decision, Kalyna moved toward the center stage where performances merged. At the same moment, Rust stepped forward from the lion section.

They met in the middle, individual dance traditions blending into something new. Crimson fox-fire from her movements merged with golden lion energy from his displays, creating sunset-colored patterns that spiraled skyward.

Dancing with Rust consumed all her senses. The scent of him surrounded her—cedar and spice intensified by exertion. The controlled power in his movements both contrasted and complemented her fluid style. When their hands briefly connected during a turn, electricity shot up her arm, making her breath catch.

For one perfect moment, her world narrowed to just this—movement, music, and the magnetic pull between them. Their magics responded without conscious thought, twining together in visible harmony. The rightness of it resonated in her bones.

This is what belonging feels like.

The music reached its crescendo. As dancers took final positions, Kalyna found herself breathless, not from exertion but from the intensity of what had transpired. Rust’s eyes caught hers across the stage, equal parts wonder and recognitionin his gaze. Something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment that what they’d created transcended traditional boundaries.

Her fox stretched contentedly inside her mind.Ours. He’s ours.

As twilight deepened into evening, preparations began for the lantern lighting ceremony. Kalyna took her position near the central lantern, preparing to craft the delicate fox-fire butterflies that would accompany its lighting.

A light mist suddenly appeared over her and settled onto the ground around her. She looked around to see where it had come from. The only person nearby was a refreshment worker who’d just thrown something into a trash can behind her.

She centered herself, drawing on familiar magic—but something shifted inside her, a sudden wrongness that made her power sputter and surge. The butterflies emerged malformed, wings half-solid, movements jerky. Before her horrified eyes, they shattered into glass-like fragments that scattered toward the crowd.

“Something’s wrong,” she gasped, cold realization spreading through her. “My magic—it’s being suppressed.”

Her gaze locked on the refreshment server, suspicious-looking as hell, ducking and hiding—the same one who’d just thrown something into the trash can. Understanding crystallized with chilling clarity: this had been planned.

Rust appeared beside her with preternatural speed, his enhanced senses detecting what others couldn’t. “Foxbane,” he identified, nostrils flaring as he scented the air around her. “Someone’s aerosolized it.”

“That server—” Panic surged as her magic continued to destabilize. Illusions manifested physically before shattering, sending dangerous fragments toward festival-goers.

“Everyone back!” Rust commanded, his voice carrying dual authority—mayoral and alpha. Parents snatched children away from the volatile display.

FORTY-FOUR

Kalyna’s vision swam as magical pathways constricted under the herb’s influence. Her fox howled in distress as its primary power—illusion—turned dangerous.

Strong arms caught her before she fell. Through blurring vision, she saw Rust’s face, determination etched in every line. Golden fur rippled along his forearms as he partially shifted, instinct overriding public propriety.

“Hezron!” he called sharply. “Find that server—now!”

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