Page 75 of Fired Up Love

“I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires,” he said with mock dignity. “I simply choose traditional brewing methods because they’re superior.”

Zina reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. The morning stubble there fascinated her—such a human trait on a being so ancient and powerful. These quiet contradictions about him continued to surprise her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone shifting to something more serious.

She considered the question, mentally cataloging her body’s responses. The injuries from their confrontation with Severin had already faded, thanks to her shifter healing and whatever ancient magic had surged through them during the ritual. But the internal changes—those ran deeper.

“Connected,” she finally answered, struggling to articulate the sensation. “To the spa, to the Pyre... to you. Like invisible threads linking everything together.”

He caught her hand, pressing her palm against his chest. His heartbeat echoed through her skin, perfectly synchronized with her own—further proof of their newly formed bond.

“The mate-bond runs deeper than most realize,” Xai said, thumb tracing circles on her wrist. “Especially between creatures not typically paired.”

“Dragon and lioness,” she whispered. “Bit of a cosmic joke, isn’t it? Fire and fur.”

“More like strength meeting strength.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Our ancestors would be scandalized.”

“Your council members already are.” She smirked, remembering the barely concealed shock on Elder Tygra’s face when they’d arrived together at the emergency meeting. “Their precious dragon elder consorting with a common business owner.”

Xai’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest—a sound she treasured for its rarity. “You’ve never been common, Zina Parker.”

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Enchanted Falls awakened beneath them—shop lights flickering on, early risers heading to Sunrise Diner, magical wisps dancing along the town’s perimeter where the protective barrier now thrummed with renewed strength. Her town. Their responsibility now.

The weight of that thought must have shown on her face, because Xai’s expression softened.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“Not about you,” she clarified, tracing patterns on the silk sheets. “But this guardian role... I signed up to run a spa, not protect an entire supernatural community.”

“You were born for both.” His certainty never wavered. “Your mother knew it when she designed the spa over the Pyre’s chamber.”

Zina sighed, swinging her legs over the bed’s edge. The cool morning air prickled her skin as she reached for his discarded shirt.

“Speaking of the Pyre,” she said, slipping the oversized garment over her head, “I still don’t entirely understand what happened. When it stabilized, I felt... information downloading directly into my brain, but it vanished before I could process most of it.”

Xai nodded, rising to follow her toward the kitchen area. “Ancient knowledge transfer—part of being recognized as guardians. My brother experienced something similar when he assumed council duties.”

She filled the kettle, needing the routine of coffee preparation to ground her. “So explain what you learned. My understanding comes in flashes, like trying to remember a dream.”

He moved behind her, close enough that she felt his heat but not crowding her space—understanding her need for both connection and independence. Through their strengthening bond, he’d become attuned to her moods with unsettling accuracy.

“The Founding Pyre serves three critical functions,” he began, voice dropping into what she privately called his ‘elder lecture tone.’ “First, it maintains the magical barrier that hides Enchanted Falls from human detection.”

“Like a supernatural cloaking device?” She measured coffee grounds, inhaling their rich aroma.

“Far more complex. Standard cloaking spells merely deflect attention. The Pyre’s barrier actively redirects human perception—they see what they expect to see rather than what’s actually there.”

The kettle whistled. Zina poured steaming water over the grounds, watching dark liquid bloom. “And the second function?”

“It neutralizes accidental magic that might reveal supernatural beings to outsiders.” Xai leaned against the counter, golden eyes following her movements. “Think of the chaos if every emotional werewolf shift or fae light burst became visible to passing humans.”

Zina added honey to her coffee—a habit her mother had instilled. “And the third?”

“Most crucial of all—it harmonizes different supernatural energies.” His expression turned contemplative. “Consider all the inherently opposing forces living in close proximity here—fire dragons and water nymphs, vampires and werewolves, fae and witches. Without the Pyre’s balancing influence, these natural enemies would destroy each other.”

She settled onto a barstool, cradling her mug between her palms. “Which explains why the founding families—dragons, lions, and panthers—established it together.”

“Exactly. Natural predators finding common ground for mutual protection.” Pride tinged his voice. “Revolutionary for its time.”

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