Page 33 of Fired Up Love

“What? Everyone saw you two making eyes at the charity dinner.” Artemis tied a spare apron around her waist, her grin unrepentant. “And half the supernatural population swears they can see his magical aura wrapped around you like a possessive blanket. It’s practically a romance novel playing out in real time.”

“It’s one kiss, not a romance novel.” Zina grabbed a cinnamon roll, needing something to do with her hands. The pastry released a puff of cinnamon-scented steam as she bit into it, the spicy sweetness unexpectedly perfect. “Oh god, this is amazing.”

“Of course, it is. I’m a stress-baking genius.” Artemis began gathering shattered display pieces. “Also, information. Overheard Madrigal’s goons at Honeycrisp this morning. They were talking about ‘reclaiming what’s rightfully theirs’ and seemed pretty smug about something.”

Zina stiffened, remembering the parchment fragment. “Did they mention a flame or restoration?”

“Not specifically.” Artemis frowned. “But Luciana Madrigal stopped by afterward—you know, Severin’s sister? She seemed upset, kept apologizing to Matilda for something her brother did. Whatever’s happening, not all Madrigals are on board.”

As they worked, more help arrived. Kalyna brought protective charms and cleansing herbs. Bartek sent two security specialists to assess vulnerabilities. By mid-morning, the worst of the glass and debris had been cleared away, revealing just how targeted the destruction had been.

Zina found herself drawn back to the exposed stonework near the central pool. Kalyna knelt beside her, copper hair falling forward as she examined the ancient markings.

“These symbols relate to Enchanted Falls’s founding families,” the fox shifter explained, tracing a triangular pattern. “This configuration suggests something beneath the spa—something important enough to build directly over.”

“Beneath?” Zina’s pulse quickened. “My mother never explained why this location mattered so much, just that it did.”

“Magical intuition, perhaps.” Kalyna’s gaze lifted to study Zina’s face. “Speaking of magic... Xai’s protective energy surrounds you like a living cloak. I’ve only read about dragon protection oaths in the oldest texts. They’re exceptionally rare and powerful.”

Warmth crept up Zina’s neck. “We haven’t discussed any oaths.”

“The magic doesn’t wait for verbal agreements.” Kalyna’s smile held ancient wisdom despite her youthful appearance. “It responds to heart recognition. His dragon knows you belong together, whether his human side has accepted it or not.”

“That sounds... intense,” Zina murmured, not entirely comfortable with the implication of destinies beyond her control.

“Dragons are intense beings.” Kalyna rose gracefully. “Centuries of life experience tends to burn away hesitation. When they decide something—or someone—matters, it’s absolute.”

Before Zina could process that statement, Thora slipped in through the side entrance, her bounty hunter’s gaze instantly assessing the room for threats. Her amber eyes narrowed when they landed on Zina.

“The dragon’s been marking his territory around you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Any predator shifter with decent senses can see it glowing around you like a second skin.”

“Does everyone need to comment on my personal life today?” Zina sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “What happened to professional boundaries?”

Thora’s lips quirked slightly—the closest she came to smiling most days. “Professional report: Madrigal consulted with Dr. Evelina Crowthorne yesterday. She specializes in authenticating artifacts of power.”

“The town historian?” Zina’s irritation faded, replaced by curiosity.

“He’s researching something called ‘The Founding Pyre.’ Requesting access to restricted family archives dating back to the town’s establishment.” Thora’s eyes gleamed with predatory intelligence. “Whatever he’s after, it’s old and powerful.”

The fragment of parchment seemed to burn in Zina’s pocket. She pulled it out, smoothing the charred edges on a clean section of counter. “I’ve heard about the Founding Pyre from Luciana. This mentions a ‘rightful flame.’ Could that be connected?”

Thora studied it, nostrils flaring slightly. “Ceremonial parchment. Expensive. And yes, almost certainly related. The Madrigals wouldn’t risk direct confrontation without significant motivation.”

THIRTY-THREE

By early afternoon, the immediate crisis had been contained. Water damage dried, broken glass removed, equipment assessed for salvageability. Zina gathered her staff in the break room—miraculously spared the worst of the destruction—and faced the concerned expressions of the people who had become her extended family.

“First, thank you all for coming in on your day off,” she began, straightening her shoulders despite the persistent ache from her healing wounds. “What happened here wasn’t random vandalism. Someone targeted us specifically—targeted me—and they knew exactly what they were looking for.”

She gestured toward the central pool area. “As we rebuild, please report any unusual sensations or discoveries. The location of our spa might be more significant than even I realized.”

“We’re with you, boss,” Jamie said, her dark curls escaping from her ponytail as she nodded emphatically. “I already said this, but I’ll say it again. My grandma always taught me power nodes choose their guardians. This spa choseyou.”

Warmth spread through Zina’s chest at the loyalty shining in her staff’s eyes. “We open tomorrow. Scaled-back services, but our doors stay open. I won’t let intimidation tactics succeed.”

A ripple of determination swept through the room. As the staff dispersed to continue repairs, Zina found herself drawn once more to the damaged mural. Her fingertips brushed over the ruined flames, memory painting what destruction had erased. Her mother had commissioned this artwork personally, insisting on those exact three flames in precisely that configuration.

Had she known something? Had the mural been a message, a clue about this “Founding Pyre” that Severin coveted?

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