Page 59 of The Purrfect Rival

“He’s chosen neutral ground deliberately,” Jinli added while closing the SUV door, her ancient eyes sharp despite her age. “Where neither pride nor skulk territorial instincts would alert them to intruders.”

“Clever,” Rust acknowledged grudgingly. “What else do we know?”

“Security is tight,” one of the younger lionesses reported. “At least six guards at all times, rotating shifts. The central building appears to be converted from an old hunting lodge.”

FIFTY-FIVE

Kalyna guided everyone inside, her mind already working through tactical possibilities. As they gathered around the kitchen table, clan instincts continued to assert themselves in subtle ways. The lions automatically positioned themselves with backs to walls, sightlines to all entrances. The foxes—Lucella and herself—chose seats allowing quick exit routes if needed.

“My fox can scout ahead,” Kalyna offered as they discussed approach options. “We can move almost invisibly through underbrush, especially at dawn when the light is still tricky.”

“Too risky,” Rust countered immediately. “My lion can track by scent over greater distances, and provide strength if confrontation becomes necessary. I should lead the first wave.”

The challenge in his tone wasn’t hostile but protective—lion instinct urging him to keep his mate from danger. Kalyna’s fox bristled slightly at the implied constraint.

“With respect, Mayor,” she replied, deliberate formality masking her irritation, “fox reconnaissance is standard procedure for exactly this type of situation. Our smaller forms are less likely to trigger perimeter alarms.”

Tension crackled between them. Rust’s shoulders squared—a dominance posture ingrained in lion shifters from cubhood. Rather than meeting the challenge directly as another lion might, Kalyna tilted her head slightly, breaking eye contact momentarily—not submission exactly, but consideration of his position.

The physical dialogue created space for verbal compromise.

“A combined approach then,” Rust suggested, his posture relaxing fractionally. “Small fox teams for initial reconnaissance, followed by lion strength if resistance is encountered.”

“With integrated fall-back positions where both can regroup if separated,” Kalyna added, building on his framework.

Hezron and Lucella exchanged amused glances at this display of cross-clan negotiation.

As planning continued, Kalyna noticed how difficult separation became, even across the room. When tactical discussion required her to move to the maps spread across her desk while Rust remained at the table with Hezron, a physical discomfort settled in her chest—a pulling sensation that eased only when she returned to his vicinity.

Rust seemed similarly affected. He repeatedly found reasons to approach her—pointing out terrain features on the map, asking her opinion on fox clan signals, his hand invariably settling at the nape of her neck or trailing across her wrist in casual contact that left his scent marking her skin.

Kalyna caught herself leaning into each touch, her fox responding with barely suppressed sounds of contentment. If Lucella’s knowing smirks were any indication, the behavior wasn’t nearly as subtle as she hoped.

By evening, they had formulated a solid strategy. For the first time in remembered history, fox and lion shifters would form a joint hunting party—their complementary skills creating an approach neither clan could execute alone.

“We move at dawn,” Rust declared, the plan now settled. “Everyone should rest while possible.”

As their guests departed, Jinli paused at the door, her ancient eyes studying Kalyna with unexpected warmth. “The old stories speak of days when lion and fox hunted together,” she said quietly. “Before pride and cunning became separated qualities rather than complementary ones.”

“Perhaps some traditions deserve revival,” Kalyna replied carefully.

Jinli’s smile held centuries of wisdom. “Indeed, child. The strongest magic often comes from returning to forgotten truths.”

FIFTY-SIX

When they were finally alone, Rust pulled Kalyna close, his forehead pressed to hers in the traditional lion greeting between mates. “Tomorrow, we hunt together,” he said, voice deepening with promise.

“My fox has never run with a lion before,” she admitted, fingers tracing the powerful muscles of his shoulders, marveling at how natural this felt despite centuries of clan separation.

“Then we’ll make history,” he replied before capturing her mouth in a kiss that made her fox yip with pleasure—a sound that escaped her human throat as a small, needy whimper.

His answering growl vibrated against her lips, lion and man equally pleased by her response. What began as a gentle kiss quickly intensified, the bond between them magnifying every sensation.

“Stay tonight,” she whispered when they finally broke apart. Not a question but an invitation.

“Try to make me leave,” he rumbled back, already guiding her toward the bedroom.

Tomorrow would bring danger and confrontation. Tonight belonged to them alone.

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