Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

X ai froze mid-step on his evening patrol through Enchanted Falls, his nostrils flaring. A scent—faint but unmistakable—drifted on the night breeze.

Blood. Not just any blood.

Zina’s blood.

His pupils contracted to slits, irises shifting from amber to crimson. The world around him sharpened into crystal clarity as his dragon senses heightened beyond normal parameters. Temperature rose from his skin, shimmering the air around him.

The copper-sweet tang led him like a beacon through the quiet streets. Each droplet called to him, resonating with magical energy—a blue luminescence visible only to supernatural eyes. He tracked the distinct signature beneath the metallic smell: lavender, vanilla, and the unique musk of lioness that had haunted his thoughts since their first meeting.

His shoes struck cobblestone harder with each step. The rational, council-elder part of his mind retreated as something ancient and primal took control. His discipline teetered on a knife’s edge.

A growl escaped his throat, steam curling from his lips despite the mild evening air. Ahead, the trail thickened. His pace increased until he was running, tie streaming behind him, the ground nearly smoking beneath his feet.

The blood led him to Zina’s backdoor. His pulse hammered against his rib cage. Images flashed through his mind—Zina’s confident smile at the charity dinner, her determined stance facing down Severin Madrigal, the spark in her eyes when she challenged his authority.

Now her blood painted a broken path on the streets of his town.

His town. His ...

He cut the thought short, rounding the final corner. The sight before him shattered any remaining composure.

Zina lay crumpled against her backdoor. Even in the dim light, he saw the blue-tinged blood seeping. Her normally vibrant face was ashen, eyes closed.

The temperature around him spiked thirty degrees in an instant.

“Zina,” he whispered, dropping to his knees beside her.

The protective wards shimmering around her property bristled at his approach—ancient magic recognizing another ancient power. For one heartbeat, they held firm against him, then softened like morning mist, parting to allow him through. They recognized his intent, his desperate need to protect.

Closer now, his enhanced senses cataloged her injuries. Three broken ribs. Deep lacerations across her torso. A shoulder wound that still bled. Multiple defensive wounds on her hands and forearms. The scent of at least five different lion shifters clung to her skin.

His suit jacket slipped from his shoulders and he maneuvered it to cover her. With infinite care, he gathered her into his arms. Her head rolled against his chest, settling into place as if designed to fit there.

“I have you,” he murmured, though she couldn’t hear. “You’re safe now.”

The door yielded to his shoulder without resistance. His eyes adjusted instantly to the darkened interior, navigating toward the stairs by memory from his previous visit. In her apartment, he laid her on the velvet chaise, anger threatening to overwhelm him as he assessed the full extent of her injuries.

The wound pattern told a story: she’d fought tactically, viciously, taking down multiple opponents despite being outnumbered. Pride bloomed alongside his fury.

“Fierce lioness,” he breathed, gently removing the suit jacket to examine her injuries.