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TWELVE

Z ina’s bedroom resembled a boutique explosion. Dresses draped over every surface—rejected for being too casual, too formal, too revealing, too conservative, too colorful, too dull. Shoes littered the floor in mismatched pairs. The discarded contents of her jewelry box glittered from atop her dresser.

She stood before the mirror in a burgundy wrap dress, turning sideways to evaluate the profile. “Too much?”

From her perch on the room’s only chair, Bryn scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing up to offer judgment. “For the hundredth time, you look fine. Though I liked the blue one better.”

“The sapphire with the cowl neck?” Zina frowned at her reflection. The burgundy emphasized her curves more than she’d intended. “Too evening wear.”

“This from the woman who tried on the backless black number twenty minutes ago.”

“That was different.” Zina turned again, dissatisfied. The burgundy would send the wrong message—too bold, too confident. She didn’t want to appear as if she were trying to attract attention.

Her gaze drifted to the closet where one option remained untried—a midnight blue sheath dress with a conservative neckline and a subtle side slit. Simple, elegant, understated. She’d purchased it months ago for a business meeting that had been canceled.

“Last attempt,” she announced, reaching for it.

The material slid cool and silky against her skin as she pulled it on. When she turned to the mirror, something in her posture shifted. The dress fit perfectly, skimming her curves without flaunting them, the color deep enough to make her hazel eyes appear more golden—a hint of her lioness nature showing through.

“Now that,” Bryn said, finally setting down her phone, “is the one.”

Zina paired it with strappy silver heels and a simple pendant necklace. As she applied a final touch of nude lipstick, her lioness stirred again, sensing an approaching presence even before the knock sounded downstairs.

Her gaze flew to the clock. Six twenty-five.

“He’s early,” she whispered, panic fluttering in her chest.

Bryn stood, brushing imaginary lint from her jeans. “Remember?—”

“Strictly professional,” Zina finished, smoothing her dress one last time.

“I was going to say ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ but sure, keep telling yourself that.” Bryn shooed her toward the door. “Go get your dragon.”

Zina drew a steadying breath, centering herself before descending the stairs. Her lioness prowled expectantly beneath her skin, anticipating the scent of smoke and spice.

She opened the door, and the world narrowed to a singular focus.

Xai Emberwylde dominated her doorway in a way that transcended mere physical presence. His tailored black suit accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist, the crisp white shirt beneath providing a stark contrast to his lightly tanned skin. His light brown hair, usually somewhat tousled, had been swept back from his forehead, emphasizing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw.

But it was his eyes that captured her—amber-gold with hidden depths like ancient coins submerged in clear water. When they met hers, something electric passed between them, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“Ms. Parker.” His voice rolled over her like velvet thunder. His gaze traveled from her face down to her silver heels, then back up again, unhurried and appreciative. “You look exquisite.”

The compliment delivered in that rumbling baritone sent warmth cascading through her body. Her lioness preened, stretching luxuriously beneath her skin.

“Thank you.” She found her voice at last. “You look quite dashing yourself.”

A hint of a smile softened the corners of his mouth, transforming his features from imposing to devastating. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, grabbing a small silver clutch from the entryway table. As she stepped past him, her enhanced senses caught his scent—stronger now, warmer, with an intoxicating note she couldn’t identify. Her lioness inhaled deeply, filing away the memory.

A sleek black car idled at the curb, its polished surface reflecting the evening sky. Xai guided her toward it with a light touch at the small of her back—barely there, yet she felt it like a brand through the thin material of her dress.

“Your chariot,” he said, opening the passenger door.

The interior smelled of rich leather and his distinctive scent. As she slid into the seat, she wondered what her lioness-enhanced perfume smelled like to him—whether he found the lavender and vanilla notes she favored pleasing or cloying.

He closed her door and circled the front of the car with fluid grace, giving her a moment to compose herself. When he settled into the driver’s seat, the space between them seemed to contract, the air charged with unacknowledged awareness.

“I appreciate your invitation,” he said as they pulled away from the curb. “I’ve been meaning to become better acquainted with local business owners.”

“I thought it might be beneficial,” she replied, fighting to keep her tone professional despite her lioness’s insistence that she lean closer to him. “Especially given your recent appointment to the council.”

He navigated the light traffic with confident ease, his large hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. She found herself studying those hands—strong, with long fingers and cleanly trimmed nails.

“Tell me about the charity,” he prompted, breaking into her inappropriate thoughts.

Grateful for the diversion, she explained, “The Enchanted Falls Education Foundation funds specialized training for young supernaturals with different magical needs. They provide everything from shifter control classes to spell modification for fae children with mixed heritage.”

His expression softened slightly. “A worthy cause.”

“My mother believed strongly in it.” The words slipped out before she could censor them. “She volunteered as a control coach for young lion shifters.”

Xai glanced at her, his golden eyes thoughtful. “You must miss her greatly.”

The simple acknowledgment of her loss—delivered without pity or awkward platitudes—loosened something in her chest. “Every day,” she admitted. “Opening the spa was her dream. I inherited her notes, her plans... everything except her confidence that it would succeed.”

She hadn’t intended to share something so personal. What was it about him that bypassed her carefully constructed defenses?

“The success I witnessed during my inspection suggests you inherited more than you realize,” he said quietly.

The compliment, simply stated yet profound, warmed her more than effusive praise would have. She studied his profile, struck by the contradiction he embodied—ancient power contained in modern packaging, formal manners masking what she sensed was a deeply passionate nature.

Her lioness growled appreciatively at the thought, sending a flush of heat through her body that had nothing to do with the car’s temperature.