Page 16 of The Purrfect Rival (Enchanted Falls #1)
SIXTEEN
T he council chamber felt like a trap. Elders from every supernatural faction in Enchanted Falls occupied their traditional seats in the circular room, their expressions ranging from concerned to openly hostile.
Rust strode to his place at the head with deliberate confidence. Two centuries of lion pride wouldn’t let him show hesitation, even as his nostrils flared at the scents of suspicion and judgment filling the air.
Jinli Leonid sat to his right, her golden eyes revealing nothing. As both lion elder and his father’s cousin, her neutrality cut deeper than outright accusation.
Lysander Foxworthy sat directly opposite Rust, spine rigid, mouth a thin line of disapproval. The fox elder’s gaze occasionally drifted to where Kalyna sat in the observer section, each glance reinforcing the barrier he intended to erect between them.
Rust’s lion snarled at the presumption. As if anyone could keep him from what was his.
She’s not yours. Yet.
“This emergency session will come to order,” he announced, voice steady. “We’re here to address the theft of a fox heirloom and the partial disappearance of library renovation funds.”
“Interesting how both disappeared while under Leonid supervision,” remarked Councilor Emile Foxworthy, one of Lysander’s nephews.
“The renovation fund falls under mayoral oversight, yes,” Rust conceded. “Sheriff Ironclaw has full access to investigate the bank transfers.”
“And the heirloom talisman?” Lysander’s voice flowed like silk over steel. “A priceless fox artifact with potent magical properties, kept safe for generations until now?”
“A scent at the scene belongs to my cousin,” Rust admitted. “But I haven’t spoken with him yet. Until there’s proof?—”
“Lions have always coveted what they cannot understand,” Lysander interrupted. “Fox magic remains a mystery to your kind—a power to be envied rather than respected.”
The chamber fell silent. Rust’s muscles tensed with the effort of restraining his lion’s rage. The accusation struck at both his honor and something deeper, more primal—his growing bond with Kalyna.
Lysander’s eyes flickered meaningfully toward her, the message unmistakable: Stay away from her.
His fingers curled against the armrest, knuckles whitening. The wood creaked under his grip. Decades of discipline barely contained the growl building in his chest.
“The Leonid family has always respected the autonomy of all species,” he stated, each word precisely measured. “I have never sought power that isn’t mine to hold—nor would I betray the trust placed in me.”
His gaze found Kalyna across the chamber. Her face remained composed, but uncertainty shadowed her eyes. The distance between them stretched like a physical ache.
Jinli Leonid rose to her feet. “As lion elder, I support a thorough investigation. If any Leonid is responsible, they will face consequences from both the council and their pride.”
Her careful wording—not clearing him outright—spoke volumes.
“The investigation begins immediately,” Rust declared. “Anyone with information is encouraged to come forward.”
The meeting proceeded with discussions of temporary funding and security measures. Throughout, Rust’s attention repeatedly strayed to Kalyna, drawn like a compass finding north. Whenever their eyes met, his lion surged forward with possessive hunger that grew increasingly difficult to contain.
As the council adjourned, Lysander paused at the door. “Mayor Leonid, should you find yourself... distracted... by certain members of my skulk, remember that some treasures are not meant for lion paws to hold.”
The threat hung in the air, triggering a snarl that Rust barely swallowed back.