Page 33

THIRTY-THREE

B y 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 chose you .”

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?

The subtle shift in air pressure alerted her to a powerful presence entering the building. She turned toward the front door as Xai Emberwylde strode in, his formal council attire at odds with the disheveled state of the spa. Golden eyes scanned the destruction before locking onto her with an intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

He crossed the space between them in long strides, stopping close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “You said you were handling it. You didn’t say it was this bad.”

The simple statement held layers of concern, reproach, and something deeper that made her lioness pace restlessly beneath her skin. His scent—cedar and spice with an underlying hint of smoke—wrapped around her, oddly comforting despite its potency.

“I am handling it,” she replied, suddenly aware of how disheveled she must look—dust-streaked clothes, hair hastily tied back, hands chapped from cleaning solutions. “Council meeting over early?”

His eyes softened as they swept over her, noting the shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes. “I adjourned it. Some things take priority.”

The implication—that she took priority over council business—sent a flutter through her stomach. Their eyes locked, electricity crackling between them—the first moment alone since their kiss.

That night played through her mind in vivid detail: the gentle brush of his fingers along her cheek, the initial tentative press of his lips against hers, the way restraint had shattered for both of them as the kiss deepened. She remembered how his hands had trailed fire down her spine, how she’d pressed herself closer despite knowing they should slow down.

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, the gold in his eyes darkening to amber. “Are you hurt?”

“Just sore from cleaning.” She rolled her shoulder demonstratively, wincing at the pull of healing muscles. “The stitches are holding up.”

He reached out, fingers hovering near the edge of her sleeve where bandages still covered her wounds from the alley attack. “May I?”

At her nod, his fingertips brushed against the fabric, heat emanating from his touch. The dull ache that had plagued her all morning receded, replaced by soothing warmth that seemed to seep directly into her muscles.

“Dragon healing,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual. “Temporary, but it helps.”

Zina leaned into his touch despite herself. “Useful trick. What else can those hands do?”

The words slipped out before she could censor them. His eyes widened fractionally before crinkling at the corners, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Many things,” he replied, his voice dropping to a rumble that she felt in her bones. “Though most would require more privacy than we currently have.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks, but she found herself smiling back. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Indeed.” His thumb traced a small circle on her wrist, the simple contact sending sparks up her arm. “Though I’m happy to provide a thorough demonstration some other time.”

Zina surprised herself with a laugh. “The dignified dragon elder has a flirtatious side. Who knew?”

“Only with you.” His expression sobered slightly. “Kalyna says my magic surrounds you.”

Her breath caught at the abrupt change of subject. “She mentioned dragon protection oaths.”

His hand stilled, golden eyes widening slightly. Something vulnerable flickered across his features before he could mask it. “Did she explain what that means?”

“That your dragon... recognized me. That the magic responds to that recognition.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he seemed to debate how much to reveal. “Not consciously, no.” His voice dropped to a rumble that she felt as much as heard. “But my dragon knew you from our first meeting. The magic follows that recognition.”

“Recognition of what?” she whispered, stepping closer until barely inches separated them.

His eyes darkened to deep amber. “Of where I belong.”

The simple declaration stole her breath. Before she could respond, slow, deliberate applause echoed through the atrium. They turned to find Severin Madrigal standing in the doorway, immaculate in a charcoal suit that emphasized his leonine grace. His smile curved with practiced charm that never reached his cold eyes.

“The council elder and his new pet,” he drawled, performing a mocking bow. “How touching.”

Heat radiated from Xai in waves, the air around him shimmering slightly. Zina placed a restraining hand on his arm, surprised at how natural the gesture felt—as though they’d been partners for years rather than days. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, but he remained still, following her lead.

“I didn’t authorize your entry, Madrigal,” she said coolly. “We’re closed for repairs—repairs your people necessitated.”

“Such accusations.” Severin pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “After I came bearing solutions to your unfortunate situation.” He pulled an envelope from his inner pocket, the paper thick and expensive. “My offer to save your failing enterprise.”

“The spa isn’t failing,” Zina countered, her voice steady despite the anger churning in her stomach. “Despite your best efforts.”

Severin’s expression shifted, hardening momentarily before melting into something that would have seemed genuinely concerned to anyone who didn’t know better. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a confidential tone that oozed false compassion.

“Zina—may I call you Zina?—I understand your attachment to your mother’s dream. Truly, I do.” His voice carried a perfect note of respectful sympathy that might have fooled her if his eyes hadn’t remained coldly calculating. “That’s precisely why I’m offering partnership rather than acquisition. Your vision, your leadership, enhanced by Madrigal resources.”

He touched her elbow lightly, a gesture that appeared supportive yet felt somehow possessive. “We’re not so different, you and I,” he continued, his smile warm while his eyes remained glacial. “Both inheritors of powerful legacies, both determined to honor our bloodlines. The difference is experience—I’ve navigated these waters for decades longer than you. Why struggle alone when an alliance benefits us both?”