Page 51 of The Purrfect Rival

“Like what?” He kept up the gentle assault of touch, his fingers now tracing circles at the nape of her neck.

“Anything. Something from your childhood.”

Rust shifted her more securely against him, his arms tightening around her waist. “Lion cubs must complete the Challenge of Endurance before receiving adult names. I spent three days in the northern mountains, surviving on nothing but what I could hunt or forage.”

“That’s intense,” she murmured, her fingers absently playing with a button on his shirt. “Fox kits earn names through displayed personality traits. My grandmother named me after my first controlled illusion—a kaleidoscope of colors that shifted constantly.”

“Fitting.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “You transform everything around you.” His hand tilted her chin up. “Including me.”

Her magic flared at his words, crimson light briefly illuminating the room. Rust captured her response with his mouth, kissing her deeply until the magic settled into a steady glow around them both.

As darkness fell,he watched Kalyna standing in the center of the apartment, crimson energy sparking then sputtering around her fingertips. Frustration tightened her features as she struggled to control her magic, still weakened by the toxin.

He was concerned about what Boz was up to, but he wasn’t about to plan anything that Kalyna would insist on being a part of until her magic was solid again. She was his world and he needed his world to be right before he did anything else.

“I can feel my magic,” she said, “but it keeps slipping away.”

Rust moved behind her, his chest against her back, arms encircling her waist. He gripped her hands in his, aligning theirfingers, and summoned his own power. Golden light flowed from his palms into hers, not dominating, but reinforcing, adding structure to her fluid energy.

“Try now,” he murmured, his lips at her ear.

Kalyna leaned back into him, her body fitting perfectly against his. Their combined energies swirled upward, intertwining into patterns across the ceiling—lions and foxes in brilliant gold and crimson, chasing each other in an endless dance.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” she whispered, awe in her voice. “Cross-species magic doesn’t merge like this.”

“Ours does.” He turned her in his arms, tilting her face up to his.

Their lips met again, magic flaring around them, intensifying with each point of contact. Rust backed her slowly toward the wall, caging her with his body, deepening the kiss until her hands clutched desperately at his shirt.

The faint wail of the library’s alarm system shattered their moment, the sound at this distance only detectable with shifter abilities.

Rust broke away, every sense instantly alert. “Stay here.”

“Not a chance.” Kalyna’s jaw set with stubborn determination, fox fire sparking in her eyes.

He recognized the futility of argument, even as his lion roared in protest at the thought of her in danger. “Behind me, then.”

They crossed the street to the library’s side door, Rust’s body positioned protectively in front, one arm extended to keep Kalyna at his back. The acrid scent of smoke hit him first, followed by the darker, more sinister signature of deliberate magic.

The main floor blazed with unnatural flames that leaped with intelligent precision from shelf to shelf. Through the billowingsmoke, Rust tracked the fire’s movement—targeting only sections containing historical records of cross-clan interactions.

“Someone’s erasing history,” he growled as Kalyna moved to his side.

Before she could respond, Hezron and Lucella burst through separate doors, responding to the alarm.

“Of course, you’re already here,” Hezron muttered, eyeing how Rust’s arm remained firmly around Kalyna’s waist. “God forbid you leave your mate for ten minutes.”

The word ‘mate’ sent a visible shiver through Kalyna, one that Rust cataloged for later exploration—preferably when they were alone again.

The fire spread with unnatural speed, clearly enhanced by magic. Rust’s voice cut through the chaos, each command precise and brooking no argument.

“Hezron, secure all exits. Lucella, containment spells on the west wall.” He turned to Kalyna, who had already started toward the historical section. “Stay in my sight.”

She flashed him a look of fox-like defiance. “I know my own library.”

Before she could dart away, he caught her wrist, pulling her back against his chest. His mouth crushed against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss that left no room for misinterpretation—by her or anyone watching.

“Stay. In. My. Sight,” he repeated against her lips, each word punctuated with deliberate intensity.

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