Page 30 of Fired Up Love

The temperature hit ninety degrees. Ice cubes melted instantly in drinks across the table.

“Might want to ease up before you melt the furniture,” Artair advised mildly. “Dragon tempers and Italian leather don’t mix well.”

Xai forced his emotions under control, though scales rippled visibly beneath his knuckles. “Gossip is the least of our concerns.”

“On the contrary,” Rust countered. “Social perception carries weight in supernatural politics. If the town sees you as Zina’s protector—or more—it changes how Madrigal must approach this conflict.”

“It makes her a clearer target,” Xai growled.

“She’s already a target,” Bartek pointed out. “But with you publicly in her corner, Madrigal must consider the consequences of dragon retribution.”

The doorbell interrupted further debate. Noven’s eyebrows shot up as he checked the security feed on his phone.

“It’s Luciana Madrigal,” he announced. “With Bryn.”

Tension coiled through Xai’s body. “Earlier than expected.”

Noven opened the door, revealing a nervous-looking Luciana and a visibly triumphant Bryn.

“She knows about the artifact,” Bryn declared without preamble. “And she’s willing to help us.”

Luciana stepped forward, her resemblance to her brother unmistakable despite her softer features. “I can’t fight Severin directly,” she stated, her voice steady despite her obvious anxiety. “But I can’t let him destroy Enchanted Falls for a century-old family obsession either.”

Xai’s eyes narrowed, draconic suspicion warring with practical need for information. “What exactly is your brother seeking?”

“The Founding Pyre,” she answered. “A magical artifact created by the three founding families—Gravemont, Parker, and Emberwylde. Legend says it can amplify a user’s inherent magic a hundredfold if properly activated.”

“And if improperly activated?” Rust asked.

Luciana’s expression grew grim. “It could drain all magic from Enchanted Falls, killing every supernatural being within twenty miles.”

Silence fell over the room.

“That’s why the three families created blood-warded protections,” she continued. “To ensure no single bloodline could access it alone.”

“But the Parkers are down to just Zina,” Noven pointed out. “No Gravemonts live here anymore. And if Severin has somehow acquired dragon blood...”

“He believes he’s found a loophole,” Luciana confirmed. “An ancient ritual that can substitute magical force for bloodline access. But it requires enormous power—power he plans to siphon from the ley line beneath the spa if he can’t have blood.”

“When?” Xai demanded, heat radiating from him in palpable waves.

“Several nights from now. During the blood moon.”

Xai’s fist slammed onto the table, leaving a smoldering handprint on the expensive wood. “He will not succeed.”

“Not just for Zina’s sake,” Bartek added, “but for everyone’s.”

“We need a plan,” Artair stated, ever practical. “One that protects both Zina and the artifact.”

The group bent over maps and documents, strategies forming and reforming as night deepened. Throughout the planning, Xai remained at the center—a force of calculated rage and protective determination.

THIRTY

As Rust outlined defensive positions around the spa, Xai’s mind flashed to a similar council meeting centuries ago—Vienna, 1683—when supernatural allies had gathered to defend the city from Ottoman forces. The same tension, the same hurried planning. He’d seen these cycles repeat across history: conflict, resolution, peace, then conflict again.

“We should focus our strongest wards here and here,” he said, pointing to the intersections on the map where ley lines converged. “I’ve seen similar patterns in Barcelona during the Succession War and again in New Orleans in the 1920s. When magical boundaries are compromised, they always fracture at the junctions first.”

The others nodded, accepting his assessment without question—the benefit of centuries of observation. Sometimes Xai wondered if any of them truly grasped what it meant to watch civilizations rise and fall, to see the same mistakes repeated by different generations. Enchanted Falls was just one more point on a very long timeline, yet somehow, this conflict felt more personal than any before it.

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