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EIGHT

T he primal thought rose unbidden, shocking in its possessive clarity. Xai ruthlessly suppressed it, alarmed by his lack of control. Whatever this reaction was, he couldn’t afford to indulge it during an official council inspection.

His gaze swept the serene lobby—polished maple floors, bamboo-slatted blinds filtering the afternoon light, elegant furnishings in soothing earth tones. Everything precisely arranged to create an atmosphere of tranquility.

Then he saw her.

She stood with her back to them, arranging lavender-infused towels on a display shelf. Dark brown hair fell in casual waves to her shoulders, copper highlights catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. Though not tall—the top of her head would likely reach just below his chin—her posture radiated quiet confidence.

Time seemed to slow as she turned at the sound of their entry. Hazel eyes with golden flecks met his gaze, and Xai Emberwylde—dragon elder, council member, being of immense magical power—momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Her face, softly oval with a slightly pointed chin that hinted at stubbornness, held a blend of professional composure and wariness. A faint flush colored her cheeks—reaction to being caught off guard, perhaps, or...

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to speculate. This was Zina Parker, proprietress of Purrfect Oasis Spa. Nothing more. Despite the fact that her eyes reminded him of fire opals he’d once treasured in his hoard centuries ago—rare gems with depth and warmth hidden beneath their surface. Despite the fact that her scent made his ancient blood sing with recognition of something his conscious mind couldn’t yet name.

Despite the fact that his dragon, usually a distant consciousness during his professional interactions, now prowled dangerously close to the surface, urging him to claim what it had instantly recognized as...

Mate.

The word reverberated through his being like a physical shock. Xai maintained his impassive expression through sheer force of will, though a faint wisp of smoke escaped his nostrils when he exhaled.

He had never experienced anything like this reaction—not in all his long life. Dragons rarely mated outside their own kind, and never with such immediate, visceral certainty. Yet here he stood, fighting an overwhelming urge to cross the room and press his face into the curve of this lioness’s neck, to mark her with his scent, to make absolutely clear to any who might approach that she belonged to?—

“Mr. Emberwylde,” she said, her voice smooth with just a hint of huskiness that did nothing to calm his inner turmoil. “We weren’t expecting an inspection quite so early.”

Her voice broke the momentary spell, allowing him to reassert control. In the split second it took her to cross the room, Xai firmly imprisoned his dragon’s impulses behind walls of logic and protocol.

When she extended her hand, Xai hesitated a fraction of a second before accepting it. The brief contact sent a surge of heat through his normally regulated body temperature. Their eyes locked for a moment too long before he deliberately released her hand, fighting the dragon’s protest at the loss of contact.

“Ms. Parker,” he acknowledged with a slight inclination of his head, relieved that his voice emerged steady. “I prefer to conduct official business before establishments open to the public.”

He inwardly winced at his formal tone. Half a millennium of life, and he still reverted to bureaucratic stiffness when thrown off balance. Noven’s sidelong glance told him his friend had noticed, though mercifully, he said nothing.

A third person entered their space—a woman with deep copper hair and bright eyes that missed nothing. “And I’m Kalyna Foxworthy,” she introduced herself. “We haven’t formally met, but my mate speaks highly of your council contributions.”

Recognition clicked. “Mrs. Leonid,” Xai replied, momentarily grateful for the distraction. The fox shifter was mated to Rust Leonid, Enchanted Falls’s mayor. Her perceptive gaze made him uncomfortably aware that she’d likely cataloged his unusual reaction to her friend.

“Elder Emberwylde,” she responded with a small smile that suggested she found something about this situation entertaining.

Before the moment could grow awkward, Noven stepped forward with his easy grin. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Security perimeter check complete. No immediate concerns, though the magical signature around the building is interesting.”

Xai introduced his security chief, noting with mild irritation how Noven’s friendly demeanor immediately put both women at ease—a talent that had always eluded him.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Noven said, shaking hands with significantly more warmth than Xai had managed. “I’ve heard great things about this place—especially the mud baths. Do they actually help with magical exhaustion?”

As Zina explained the volcanic mineral properties, Noven shot Xai a meaningful glance. “Like dragons?” he asked innocently. “Some of us know someone who could benefit from a little relaxation therapy.”