Page 52 of The Purrfect Rival

FORTY-SEVEN

Her eyes flashed crimson as she nodded, the agreement clearly on her terms rather than his. Rust’s lion purred at this show of spirit even as he maintained his protective stance.

They moved through the smoke together, Rust shifting shelves that threatened to collapse while Kalyna retrieved the most vulnerable texts. Across the room, Hezron and Lucella worked with surprising synchronicity despite their constant bickering.

“Left! Your other left!” Lucella shouted, aiming a specialized extinguisher.

“I know which way left is!” Hezron retorted, dodging a falling shelf. “Two centuries old, remember?”

“Could have fooled me,” she muttered, though her eyes tracked him with naked concern when a burning beam nearly caught his shoulder.

As they battled the spreading flames, Rust caught Kalyna’s eye across a partially collapsed bookcase. “Pattern recognition,” he called to her. “What’s burning first?”

“Lion-fox historical records,” she confirmed, voice tight with suppressed coughing. “Ancient interactions, collaborative magical theory, cross-clan ceremonies—all first to burn.”

A magical barrier suddenly sprang up, separating them from a crucial section. Rust recognized the signature instantly. “Boz,” he snarled, claws extending fully, golden fur rippling along his forearms.

“Rus—” A crash drew his attention—Kalyna had collapsed, her magic exhausted by her efforts. Rust moved with preternatural speed, scooping her into his arms. His body curved protectively around her smaller form as he navigated through smoke and falling debris with lethal precision.

Outside, he settled her on a bench but remained crouched before her, one hand cupping her face, his eyes scanning for any injury beyond magical exhaustion.

“You pushed too hard,” he growled, the accusation softened by the concern evident in his touch.

“Had to save what I could.” Her gaze lifted to his face, a small smile forming. “You’re covered in soot. The markings almost look like fox patterns.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, leaving a smudge of ash. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe you’re halfway to becoming a proper fox already.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he responded with unexpected intensity, “I’d grow a bushy tail tomorrow.”

The raw honesty silenced her, eyes widening as she processed his meaning. Rust didn’t allow her time to analyze his declaration. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers, his golden energy seeping into her, supporting her depleted reserves.

Sheriff Ironclaw arrived with deputies, organizing firefighting efforts. Rust remained at Kalyna’s side, one armperpetually around her waist or shoulders, his body positioned between her and anyone who approached.

When the flames were finally contained, they returned to assess the damage, picking through charred remains. Rust kept Kalyna tucked against his side, supporting her weight when exhaustion made her steps falter.

“Too precise to be random,” he observed, examining burn patterns that formed almost surgical strikes through the historical section.

“The oldest cross-clan records,” Kalyna agreed, leaning into him. “Particularly anything mentioning the Concordance.”

Among the salvaged fragments, Rust discovered a partially burned parchment, ancient text still legible: “When lion and fox magics truly merge, the power rivals that of the ancients. Some will kill to possess or prevent such a union.”

Kalyna nodded toward a shadowy figure slipping in through the back exit—Mira Woshen, the library’s part-time help, her expression calculating rather than concerned as she surveyed the destruction.

He turned Kalyna to face him fully, his hands framing her face. “We need to understand what’s happening between us,” he told her, his voice low but carrying absolute conviction. “Not just to stop Boz, but because...”

“Because?” she prompted when he hesitated, vulnerability in her eyes.

“Because I’ve spent two centuries waiting for something I couldn’t name.” His thumbs traced her cheekbones, golden magic sparking at the contact. “Now that I’ve found it—found you—I won’t let anyone take it from us.”

He sealed this vow with a kiss that left no room for doubt or argument. Around them, their magic intertwined visibly—gold and crimson threads forming ancient symbols neither had studied but both instinctively recognized.

When he finally released her, Kalyna’s eyes had turned completely crimson, her fox responding to his claim.

“The ritual he’s planning,” she said, urgency in her voice. “We need to find the charm before midnight tomorrow—not just to stop him, but to understand what we’re becoming.”

“Whatever it is,” Rust promised, his hand finding hers with unerring certainty, fingers interlacing with deliberate possession, “we face it together.”

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