Page 15 of The Purrfect Rival (Enchanted Falls #1)

FIFTEEN

R ust’s phone buzzed at 6:15 AM, yanking him from a dream where he’d been chasing something copper-bright through moonlit woods. Sheriff Ironclaw’s text glowed on the screen:

Incident at library. Your presence required immediately.

His lion stirred, instantly alert. Something about the library meant something about Kalyna.

He dressed in three minutes flat, choosing his sharpest charcoal suit almost unconsciously. His lion preened at the thought of seeing her again, even as his human side cursed its inappropriate timing.

Focus. This is official business.

The drive into town took twelve agonizing minutes—each one filled with his lion’s restless pacing and unhelpful suggestions about how close he should stand to Kalyna when he arrived. Rust gripped the steering wheel tighter, pushing against the primal urges.

The crowd outside the library scattered any romantic notions. Angry voices carried across the morning air:

“—always taking what isn’t theirs!”

“—convenient how the mayor controls the money!”

“—Leonids can’t be trusted with fox magic!”

Sheriff Ironclaw blocked the entrance, his wolf-shifter frame tense with alertness. He nodded at Rust’s approach.

“Mayor. Better come inside. It’s a mess.”

The atrium buzzed with voices. Library staff clustered near the circulation desk, whispering urgently. Dr. Crowthorne from the Historical Society gesticulated wildly to several solemn council members.

And in the center stood Kalyna.

Morning light streamed through stained glass, painting her copper hair with jewel tones. She clutched something in her hand, her posture rigid, shoulders squared against an invisible weight.

His lion surged forward with such force that Rust nearly stumbled. Mine. Protect. Comfort. The intensity of the reaction shocked him—this possessive instinct grew stronger every time he saw her.

Sheriff Ironclaw’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Two problems. The fox heirloom is missing from its location. And about forty percent of the library renovation fund disappeared overnight through electronic transfer.”

The words hit like physical blows. Rust’s mind raced through implications even as his gaze remained fixed on Kalyna. When their eyes met across the room, the uncertainty in her expression cut deeper than any accusation.

“Who discovered this?” His voice emerged steadier than he felt.

“Ms. Foxworthy arrived early. Found the door broken open.” The sheriff gestured toward whatever Kalyna held.

Rust crossed to her, acutely aware of watching eyes. His lion urged him to pull her close, to shield her from this chaos, to rumble comforting purrs against her hair. He fought the impulses down and extended his hand instead.

“May I?”

Kalyna hesitated, then passed him a red box. Their fingers brushed—no magical sparks this time, only a current of tension. He lifted the lid to find an empty box. The magical talisman must have been inside.

“Show me where you found this.”

He followed her through a thick door that had been forced open. She stopped at the back of the room where a tall combination vault sat opened.

“Who knows the combination?” he asked her.

“Only a few people. Me, the skulk elders. That’s it as far as I know. But it shouldn’t matter. The safe is protected so only certain people can open it.”

Rust stepped up to the metal door and sniffed the surface. When he leaned close to the interior, he picked up a fragrance he knew well.

Boz.

“A scent here belongs to my cousin,” he stated, meeting Kalyna’s eyes directly. “But I’ll need to speak with him before making assumptions.”

Her gaze remained guarded, a tiny furrow between her brows. His lion whined, distressed by her doubt.

“An emergency council meeting has been called.”

Lysander Foxworthy stood in the doorway, silver threading his auburn hair. His eyes—so similar to Kalyna’s—hardened as they settled on Rust.

“The council expects your presence in thirty minutes, Mayor.” His emphasis on the title dripped with disdain. “We have much to discuss about clan... accountability.”

Lysander’s gaze flicked deliberately between Rust and Kalyna, a silent warning that raised Rust’s hackles. His lion bristled beneath his skin, the territorial response so strong, his fingertips tingled with the threat of emerging claws.

“I’ll be there,” Rust replied, his voice deceptively calm. “And I assure you, no one wants the truth more than I do.”