Page 29 of Fired Up Love

“I’ll go,” Bryn volunteered. “She knows me from charity events. It won’t seem suspicious.”

“Not alone,” Xai countered. “Madrigal is clearly willing to attack women when it suits his purpose.”

“I’ll accompany her,” Noven offered. “I can be discreet when needed.”

Xai nodded his approval, though his attention remained primarily on Zina. “The rest of us need to prepare. If what Kalyna says is true, Madrigal won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Then we make sure he doesn’t get it,” Zina declared, her lioness spirit evident despite her weakened state.

The visitors departed, leaving Xai alone with Zina once more. The silence between them hummed with unspoken emotions and the memory of their kiss.

“You should rest,” he finally said, helping her back to a reclining position.

“So should you. You’ve been up all night.”

“Dragons require less sleep than lions.”

She caught his hand before he could withdraw. “Thank you. Not just for the healing, but for...” She struggled to find the right words.

“For what?” he prompted, allowing his fingers to intertwine with hers.

“For seeing me as more than just a spa owner to protect. For trusting my strength even when I’m at my weakest.”

The simple honesty in her words touched something long dormant within him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers in an ancient gesture of draconic affection.

“Rest now, fierce lioness. When you wake, we begin planning our counterattack.”

Her lips curved into a smile as she drifted toward sleep. “Promise you’ll be here?”

“Wild magic couldn’t drag me away.”

TWENTY-NINE

Evening found Xai’s penthouse transformed from bachelor sanctuary to supernatural war room. Rust Leonid spread town maps across the dining table. Artair Maxen detailed security provisions. Bartek Arbor outlined pride territories and potential alliances.

“Madrigal’s enforcers aren’t talking,” Artair reported, frustration evident in his bearish growl. “They’re too afraid of him—or too loyal.”

“Fear and loyalty often look identical under pressure,” Rust observed.

Noven entered from the kitchen, balancing pizza boxes. “Food’s here. Can’t plan vengeance on empty stomachs.”

“Any word from Bryn?” Xai asked, accepting a plate without looking at it.

“She’s made contact with Luciana,” Noven replied. “They’re meeting at the Honeycrisp Bakery in an hour. Neutral territory.”

“And how’s our lioness?” Bartek inquired, his tiger-shifter eyes sharp.

“Recovering,” Xai answered curtly. “Her resilience is... remarkable.”

“As is your restraint,” Noven muttered, earning glares from everyone except Bartek, who badly disguised a laugh as a cough.

“Something amusing?” Xai challenged.

“Not at all,” Bartek replied, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Just noticing how the temperature rises five degrees anytime Zina’s mentioned.”

“If we could focus on the threat at hand rather than my thermal regulation—” Xai began, only to be interrupted by his phone.

A message from Artemis displayed a photo of Mrs. Plumworth, the town’s notorious magpie-shifter gossip, standing outside Zina’s spa with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. Below it, Artemis had written: “Town’s abuzz about the dragon elder carrying our spa owner into her home. Any comment before rumors reach critical mass?”

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