Page 25 of Fired Up Love

Understanding flashed across his features, followed by something darker. Something possessive. “A convergence point? No wonder your mother bound it with her life force.”

He knelt beside her, and for a moment, she saw past the elder, past the ancient dragon, to the man beneath—one whose carefully maintained walls cracked at the sight of her injuries. Dragon scales rippled beneath his skin, visible in the dying light. His hands trembled slightly as they hovered near her wounds as if afraid his touch might cause more pain.

Through the fog of her fading consciousness, a new realization dawned. Somehow, he’d known she was hurt. He’d tracked her here, following the magical resonance of her blood trail. Of all the people in Enchanted Falls, he’d been the one to find her, to sense her distress from wherever he’d been.

“You’re safe now,” he rumbled, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing. His body temperature rose to combat her shock, warming her chilled skin without burning.

The contact sent electricity through her battered form—primal recognition that transcended pain. Her lioness, despite its injuries, purred at his touch. His scent enveloped her: cedar smoke, ancient magic, and something uniquely him that made her want to burrow closer.

“Madrigal will learn what happens when he threatens what a dragon claims as his territory.”

The possessive edge in his voice should have infuriated her feminist side. Should have made her bristle at being claimed like property. Instead, her lioness leaped within her, recognizing its mate’s protective fury. As consciousness began to fade, Zina realized she faced more danger than she’d imagined—and not just from Severin Madrigal.

Because somewhere between the charity dinner’s first dance and this moment of raw vulnerability, her heart had decided that trusting a dragon wasn’t just acceptable—it was inevitable. And her lioness, for once in perfect harmony with her human side, had already chosen their mate.

She felt his arms tighten around her as darkness claimed her vision, one final thought echoing through her mind: she’d finally found someone worth fighting for—someone who would fight for her with equal ferocity.

TWENTY-FOUR

Xai froze mid-step on his evening patrol through Enchanted Falls, his nostrils flaring. A scent—faint but unmistakable—drifted on the night breeze.

Blood. Not just any blood.

Zina’s blood.

His pupils contracted to slits, irises shifting from amber to crimson. The world around him sharpened into crystal clarity as his dragon senses heightened beyond normal parameters. Temperature rose from his skin, shimmering the air around him.

The copper-sweet tang led him like a beacon through the quiet streets. Each droplet called to him, resonating with magical energy—a blue luminescence visible only to supernatural eyes. He tracked the distinct signature beneath the metallic smell: lavender, vanilla, and the unique musk of lioness that had haunted his thoughts since their first meeting.

His shoes struck cobblestone harder with each step. The rational, council-elder part of his mind retreated as something ancient and primal took control. His discipline teetered on a knife’s edge.

A growl escaped his throat, steam curling from his lips despite the mild evening air. Ahead, the trail thickened. His pace increased until he was running, tie streaming behind him, the ground nearly smoking beneath his feet.

The blood led him to Zina’s backdoor. His pulse hammered against his rib cage. Images flashed through his mind—Zina’s confident smile at the charity dinner, her determined stance facing down Severin Madrigal, the spark in her eyes when she challenged his authority.

Now her blood painted a broken path on the streets of his town.

Histown.His...

He cut the thought short, rounding the final corner. The sight before him shattered any remaining composure.

Zina lay crumpled against her backdoor. Even in the dim light, he saw the blue-tinged blood seeping. Her normally vibrant face was ashen, eyes closed.

The temperature around him spiked thirty degrees in an instant.

“Zina,” he whispered, dropping to his knees beside her.

The protective wards shimmering around her property bristled at his approach—ancient magic recognizing another ancient power. For one heartbeat, they held firm against him, then softened like morning mist, parting to allow him through. They recognized his intent, his desperate need to protect.

Closer now, his enhanced senses cataloged her injuries. Three broken ribs. Deep lacerations across her torso. A shoulder wound that still bled. Multiple defensive wounds on her hands and forearms. The scent of at least five different lion shifters clung to her skin.

His suit jacket slipped from his shoulders and he maneuvered it to cover her. With infinite care, he gathered her into his arms. Her head rolled against his chest, settling into place as if designed to fit there.

“I have you,” he murmured, though she couldn’t hear. “You’re safe now.”

The door yielded to his shoulder without resistance. His eyes adjusted instantly to the darkened interior, navigating toward the stairs by memory from his previous visit. In her apartment, he laid her on the velvet chaise, anger threatening to overwhelm him as he assessed the full extent of her injuries.

The wound pattern told a story: she’d fought tactically, viciously, taking down multiple opponents despite being outnumbered. Pride bloomed alongside his fury.

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