Page 62 of The Purrfect Rival (Enchanted Falls #1)

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T he bear shifter drew back for the blow that would shatter her failing shield. The mercenary’s finger tightened on the trigger. Kalyna gathered her remaining strength, preparing one last desperate defense.

A thunderous roar split the night—primal, savage, wrathful. The bear shifter froze, ancient instincts recognizing a sound that had terrified his ancestors for millennia.

Rust burst through the battlefield in full lion form—massive golden body rippling with muscle, mane streaming behind him like a battle banner, eyes blazing with protective rage. He moved with impossible speed, covering the distance between them in seconds.

The mercenary swung his crossbow toward the new threat, but Rust was already upon him. One massive paw sent the man flying into the stone wall with bone-breaking force. The bear shifter backpedaled, abandoning his attack on Kalyna to face the enraged lion.

Rust’s jaws closed around the bear’s forearm with crushing power. The shifter howled, desperation lending him strength as he struggled to break free. Rust shook him violently before hurling him bodily into his remaining companions.

Through pain-hazed vision, Kalyna watched her mate tear through her attackers with terrifying efficiency. No hesitation, no restraint—just the pure, devastating power of an alpha lion defending his wounded mate.

The spectacle should have horrified her. Instead, her fox responded with fierce satisfaction. Mine.

Rust shifted partially back to human form, still maintaining lion claws and enhanced strength. He knelt beside her, golden eyes wild with concern as he examined her wound.

“Kalyna.” His voice emerged as a rumble, barely human. “How bad?”

“Spelled bolt,” she managed, each word requiring effort as the corruption spread. “Anti-fox magic.”

His expression darkened with murderous intent. For a moment, she glimpsed something ancient and primal lurking behind his eyes—the pure predator, untamed by centuries of civilization. His gaze tracked the retreating mercenaries, muscles tensing as though preparing to pursue.

She grasped his wrist with her good hand. “Rust. Don’t leave.”

The simple plea pulled him back from the edge of feral rage. His focus returned to her, hands gentle as they explored the wound despite the deadly claws still extending from his fingertips.

“The bolt must come out,” he said grimly.

She nodded, bracing herself. With surgical precision, he grasped the projectile, careful not to drive it deeper. “Ready?”

Kalyna bit her lip, nodding again. In one swift motion, he extracted the bolt. Agony whited out her vision momentarily, a cry escaping despite her attempt to remain silent. The spelled metal hissed as it left her flesh, its sickly green glow intensifying before fading.

“Hold still,” Rust murmured, his voice steadying. “This will help.”

He lowered his head to her wound, his intention clear. His tongue gently cleaned the injury, the contact sending shockwaves through her system as their magics interacted. Gold and crimson energy swirled around the wound, pushing back the corruption.

The pain receded, replaced by tingling warmth. His magic poured into her, strengthening her natural healing, their newly forged connection amplifying the effect.

Shouts and the clash of battle continued around them, but within their bubble of shared magic, a moment of peace existed. Her fox stirred, responding to his care with deep contentment despite the danger surrounding them.

“We need to get you inside,” he said, gathering her against his chest.

Before he could lift her, a massive explosion rocked the eastern perimeter. The protective wards collapsed in a shower of crimson sparks, allowing a fresh wave of attackers to stream onto the property.

Through the chaos, she spotted her father. Winston stood at the garden entrance, fox magic swirling around his hands as he maintained a barrier protecting several younger clan members. Three mages in Boz’s colors advanced on his position, their combined spells hammering the shield that flickered dangerously with each impact.

“My father,” she gasped, struggling to rise.

Rust’s gaze followed hers, assessing the situation in an instant. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” With his help, she regained her feet, swaying slightly but stable.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his body already beginning to shift back toward lion form.

“Not a chance.” Her own fox surged forward, lending her strength despite her injury. “We fight together.”

Something flashed in his eyes—pride, concern, acceptance. Then they were moving across the battlefield in perfect tandem, their newly bonded magics synchronizing with each step.

They reached Winston as the barrier shattered. The elder fox staggered, magical exhaustion evident in his pale face. One of the attacking mages lunged forward, spelled blade aimed at Winston’s exposed back.