Page 7 of The Purrfect Rival

His mother had always been skilled at fishing for information while appearing merely curious. “Kalyna Foxworthy. The council appointed me to oversee the library repairs.”

“How wonderful! Your father always believed in building bridges between prides and skulks.”

Augustus Leonid had believed no such thing. He’d been rigidly traditional, maintaining firm boundaries between the lion pride and other shifter groups, especially fox skulks. But Aurelia often reimagined the past to suit her present goals.

“The library needs significant funding,” Rust redirected. “I’m considering a charity gala at the estate.”

“Brilliant idea!” Enthusiasm brightened her voice. “We could invite all the prominent families—and naturally, the Foxworthys must attend. Did you know they’ve been in Enchanted Falls nearly as long as we have? Their illusion magic is quite remarkable.”

Rust’s gaze traveled to the portraits of his father and grandfather in their ceremonial lion attire, eyes stern and watchful. Both had married lionesses from respected families, continuing the pure bloodline.

“The Foxworthys hold significant influence in town affairs,” he acknowledged neutrally.

“Indeed. You know, fox traits complement lion traits nicely in partnerships.” Aurelia’s voice turned thoughtful. “Their cleverness balances our strength, their adaptability our steadfastness.”

Rust’s brow furrowed. His mother had spent decades subtly pushing him toward suitable lioness matches. This new direction surprised him.

“Since when do you advocate for inter-clan relations?”

“Since watching my only son spend two centuries alone.” Her voice softened. “I’ve outlived your father by nearly sixty years, Rust. It changes one’s perspective. I want you happy more than I want you traditional.”

The unexpected candor left him momentarily speechless.

“Besides,” she continued briskly, “your reaction to the Foxworthy girl suggests your lion has already decided regardless of what the rest of us think. When can I expect you for dinner? Sunday? Bring the renovation plans—I’d like to see what’s captured your interest so thoroughly.”

After promising to visit soon, Rust set down the receiver and exhaled heavily. His mother’s sudden open-mindedness towardfoxes seemed too convenient, too strategic. Yet her insight about his lion’s decision struck uncomfortably close to the truth.

From the moment he’d locked eyes with Kalyna across the council chamber, something fundamental had shifted inside him. The lion spirit that shared his soul had surged forward with possessive recognition.Mine, it had declared with absolute certainty.Mine to protect. Mine to claim.

And when their fingers had touched—that electric, magical connection that had visible sparks dancing between them—the claiming impulse had grown almost overwhelming. Only centuries of iron self-control had prevented him from vaulting over the council table and gathering her into his arms.

He’d seen the surprise in her eyes, watched the crimson flare of her fox magic responding to his golden lion energy. She’d felt it too—that instant, instinctive recognition that transcended shifter boundaries and rational thought.

Mate-bonds were rare enough among shifters of the same species. Cross-species bonds happened perhaps once a century, if that. The elders spoke of such pairings in hushed tones—some with reverence for their magical potential, others with wariness about disrupting traditional bloodlines.

SEVEN

Rust rubbed his temples, trying to focus on practical matters. He opened the library renovation folder, spreading architectural diagrams across his desk. The building’s west wing showed dangerous structural deterioration. Without intervention, the historical archives housed there could be destroyed. Good thing he had already approved the renewal of the building insurance policy, but that was only for structural damage. The loss of the precious contents could never be replaced.

But instead of seeing support beams and cost estimates, his mind conjured Kalyna’s face—her delicate features animated with passion as she described the library’s importance to the community. The faint freckles across her nose. The way her eyes had widened when their hands touched.

He caught himself sketching in the margin of his notepad—a small, two-tailed fox. Two tails, why that? Frustrated, he pushed the papers aside and stood, moving to the window.

The library stood visible from his office, its stone façade weathered by centuries. He needed to develop a fundraising strategy. The charity gala at Leonid Estate could work, but he’d need to approach potential donors carefully. Some might balk athelping a project spearheaded by a fox shifter while others might question his own motives in supporting it so enthusiastically.

Pride politics never simplified anything.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Hezron reappeared, a folder in hand.

“Found something you should see,” he said uncharacteristically serious. “Those reports on strange activities around town? Your cousin Boz’s name keeps coming up.”

Rust accepted the folder, scanning its contents. “Not surprising.”

Hezron leaned against the desk. “You know he’s always resented that the mayoral position passes through your branch of the family. He thinks his line deserved consideration.”

“That’s ancient history.”

“To you, maybe. Not to him.”

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