Page 63 of Fired Up Love

“Basically, the plants are freaking out,” she replied. “We need to get out—” Before she could finish, creepers wrapped around her arms. “Zina, Bryn, run!”

Zina reached for Jamie. “I’m not leaving you!”

Bryn screeched as weeds curled around her legs.

“No, it’s okay,” Jamie replied. “I can calm them, but it will take a little while. Zina, get out before it’s too late.”

Through gaps in the broken ceiling, Zina saw crimson light coalesce above the mansion’s highest tower. Unnatural storm clouds gathered, swirling in patterns that defied physics and reason.

“I’ll wait—” She gasped as the dragon scale against her heart suddenly blazed hot enough to sear skin. Xai was in danger or engaged in battle. Either way, he needed her.

“Go,” Jamie hollered. “We’ll find you shortly. We’re okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, steadying herself against a twisted metal table.

“Zina,” Bryn growled. “Xai needs you. We’ll catch up.”

Severin had forced their hand, accelerating a ritual meant to occur at midnight. Whatever his desperation, whatever his madness, she couldn’t wait.

As she raced from the greenhouse toward the mansion, Zina pressed her hand to the dragon scale, drawing strength from its heat. Its steady pulse matched her heartbeat, two rhythms synchronizing across distance.

Find Luciana. Stop Severin. Find Xai.

As Zina raced across the grounds, her mother’s voice seemed to whisper guidance in her ear.“Always check your corners, kitten. Look for the unexpected path.”Fiona Parker had taught her that childhood hide-and-seek games were really stealth training in disguise.

Now, every instinctive move, every strategic decision flowed from those early lessons. She paused at a fork in the overgrown path, closing her eyes briefly. Her mother had always said that a Parker’s intuition was their greatest weapon—the culmination of generations of lion-shifter wisdom. Zina inhaled deeply, centering herself the way Fiona had shown her: three breaths in, hold for three, release for three.

“This way,” she said to herself with sudden certainty, veering left where the magic felt slightly less hostile. Her mother would have been proud of how she trusted her instincts, how she led with both confidence and caution. The weight of the dragon scale against her heart was matched by the weight of her mother’s legacy guiding her steps. Whatever happened tonight, she wouldn’t let either of them down.

She’d found something worth fighting for—a purpose beyond honoring her mother’s legacy and a love beyond what she’d believed possible.

Now she would protect it, whatever the cost.

SIXTY-ONE

Midnight shadows clung to the abandoned Gravemont manor like a funeral shroud. With his team, Xai paused at the edge of the overgrown garden, golden eyes scanning the crumbling facade. Moonlight bathed the stone in an eerie silver glow, transforming ordinary architecture into something otherworldly. Time had not been kind to the once-grand estate—ivy choked the eastern wall, windows gaped like hollow eyes, and the marble steps leading to the entrance had cracked down the center.

The blood moon hung above the manor, a crimson eye watching the night unfold. Its ruddy light cast everything in shades of burgundy and rust, turning the surrounding forest into a tableau of shadow puppets. Even the air felt different under its influence—thicker, charged with potential energy that made Xai’s skin prickle beneath his tailored shirt.

He touched the inner pocket of his jacket where a single golden scale rested—a twin to the one he’d given Zina. Through it, he sensed her heartbeat, steady and strong. The connection pulsed with quiet reassurance that she remained unharmed, moving purposefully somewhere along the property’s perimeter. The sensation of her life force against his consciousness had become as essential as breathing.

Be safe, little lioness.

The thought formed unbidden, surprising him with its intensity. He’d lived lifetimes without this bone-deep concern for another’s well-being. Dragons guarded their territories jealously but rarely formed attachments that transcended duty or alliance. Yet in mere weeks, this golden-eyed spa owner had burrowed beneath scales centuries in the hardening.

The vulnerability both unsettled and exhilarated him. Dragons were creatures of power and solitude—their legends celebrated hoards and territories, not mates or partnerships. His brother Draven would likely laugh at the transformation, teasing that the formidable dragon elder had been tamed by a feline smile and stubborn wit.

Perhaps there was truth in that. But if being tamed meant experiencing the rush of warmth whenever Zina’s scent reached him, or the comfort of her body curved against his in quiet moments, then perhaps centuries of solitude had been the true imprisonment.

Behind him, he heard Thora’s phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and turned her back to them.

“This had better be good,” she said.

“Madrigal has an army of men approaching,” Xai heard from the caller. “They’re carrying torches. We need help before they get here.”

Thora spun around, panic in her eyes. “Artemis said?—”

“I heard,” he said. “You and Noven get back there and save the spa.”

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