Chapter 71
SEVENTY-ONE
S unlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing Zina’s face in golden warmth. She blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the panoramic view of Enchanted Falls spread below like a magical diorama. Not her cozy apartment above the spa, but Xai’s penthouse—a dragon’s aerie perched high above the town. The air itself felt different—as if the world had shifted on its axis and found better balance.
Her lioness stirred, muscles tensed before recognizing the lingering scent that surrounded her. Smoke and spice. Safety. Xai.
She rolled over to find him already awake, golden eyes tracking her movements with an intensity that sent electric shivers cascading down her spine. No matter how many moments they’d shared in the past weeks, that gaze still affected her like the first time.
“How long have you been watching me sleep?” she murmured, voice husky with morning drowsiness.
Xai’s mouth curved into that secret smile he reserved only for her. “Not long enough.”
His large hand reached out, trailing calloused fingertips along her bare shoulder. Heat followed his touch, chasing away the morning chill like a personalized furnace. One of the unexpected perks of a dragon mate—she hadn’t needed an extra blanket since their bond formed.
“You know that’s pretty creepy, right?” She stretched, arching her back like the cat she partly was. “The whole watching-while-sleeping thing?”
“Dragons guard their treasures,” he said simply, propping himself on one elbow. The casual movement revealed the sculpted planes of his chest, still astonishing to her despite having memorized every inch.
Zina scoffed, even as warmth bloomed beneath her skin. “I’m not a treasure. I’m a business owner with a supernatural problem that somehow became a relationship.”
“Such romance.” His lazy smile widened as tendrils of smoke curled from his nostrils—a sign of amusement she’d come to recognize.
“Romance wasn’t exactly on my agenda when I opened Purrfect Oasis,” she reminded him, propping herself against the headboard. “Neither was becoming some magical guardian or bonding with a centuries-old dragon who probably thinks instant coffee is a modern miracle.”
“I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires,” he said with mock dignity. “I simply choose traditional brewing methods because they’re superior.”
Zina reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. The morning stubble there fascinated her—such a human trait on a being so ancient and powerful. These quiet contradictions about him continued to surprise her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone shifting to something more serious.
She considered the question, mentally cataloging her body’s responses. The injuries from their confrontation with Severin had already faded, thanks to her shifter healing and whatever ancient magic had surged through them during the ritual. But the internal changes—those ran deeper.
“Connected,” she finally answered, struggling to articulate the sensation. “To the spa, to the Pyre... to you. Like invisible threads linking everything together.”
He caught her hand, pressing her palm against his chest. His heartbeat echoed through her skin, perfectly synchronized with her own—further proof of their newly formed bond.
“The mate-bond runs deeper than most realize,” Xai said, thumb tracing circles on her wrist. “Especially between creatures not typically paired.”
“Dragon and lioness,” she whispered. “Bit of a cosmic joke, isn’t it? Fire and fur.”
“More like strength meeting strength.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Our ancestors would be scandalized.”
“Your council members already are.” She smirked, remembering the barely concealed shock on Elder Tygra’s face when they’d arrived together at the emergency meeting. “Their precious dragon elder consorting with a common business owner.”
Xai’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest—a sound she treasured for its rarity. “You’ve never been common, Zina Parker.”
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Enchanted Falls awakened beneath them—shop lights flickering on, early risers heading to Sunrise Diner, magical wisps dancing along the town’s perimeter where the protective barrier now thrummed with renewed strength. Her town. Their responsibility now.
The weight of that thought must have shown on her face, because Xai’s expression softened.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
“Not about you,” she clarified, tracing patterns on the silk sheets. “But this guardian role... I signed up to run a spa, not protect an entire supernatural community.”
“You were born for both.” His certainty never wavered. “Your mother knew it when she designed the spa over the Pyre’s chamber.”
Zina sighed, swinging her legs over the bed’s edge. The cool morning air prickled her skin as she reached for his discarded shirt.
“Speaking of the Pyre,” she said, slipping the oversized garment over her head, “I still don’t entirely understand what happened. When it stabilized, I felt... information downloading directly into my brain, but it vanished before I could process most of it.”
Xai nodded, rising to follow her toward the kitchen area. “Ancient knowledge transfer—part of being recognized as guardians. My brother experienced something similar when he assumed council duties.”
She filled the kettle, needing the routine of coffee preparation to ground her. “So explain what you learned. My understanding comes in flashes, like trying to remember a dream.”
He moved behind her, close enough that she felt his heat but not crowding her space—understanding her need for both connection and independence. Through their strengthening bond, he’d become attuned to her moods with unsettling accuracy.
“The Founding Pyre serves three critical functions,” he began, voice dropping into what she privately called his ‘elder lecture tone.’ “First, it maintains the magical barrier that hides Enchanted Falls from human detection.”
“Like a supernatural cloaking device?” She measured coffee grounds, inhaling their rich aroma.
“Far more complex. Standard cloaking spells merely deflect attention. The Pyre’s barrier actively redirects human perception—they see what they expect to see rather than what’s actually there.”
The kettle whistled. Zina poured steaming water over the grounds, watching dark liquid bloom. “And the second function?”
“It neutralizes accidental magic that might reveal supernatural beings to outsiders.” Xai leaned against the counter, golden eyes following her movements. “Think of the chaos if every emotional werewolf shift or fae light burst became visible to passing humans.”
Zina added honey to her coffee—a habit her mother had instilled. “And the third?”
“Most crucial of all—it harmonizes different supernatural energies.” His expression turned contemplative. “Consider all the inherently opposing forces living in close proximity here—fire dragons and water nymphs, vampires and werewolves, fae and witches. Without the Pyre’s balancing influence, these natural enemies would destroy each other.”
She settled onto a barstool, cradling her mug between her palms. “Which explains why the founding families—dragons, lions, and panthers—established it together.”
“Exactly. Natural predators finding common ground for mutual protection.” Pride tinged his voice. “Revolutionary for its time.”
“And it needs regular maintenance from representatives of all three bloodlines?”
“The magic flows through our lineages,” he confirmed, preparing his own tea with methodical precision. “Drawing power from our shared intent as well as our physical presence.”
“Severin never understood that part,” she mused, watching morning light dance across Xai’s features. “He thought simple blood and lineage would grant him control.”
“His ambition blinded him to the Pyre’s true nature—protection, not power.” Xai’s mouth tightened. “A common failing among those who seek authority.”
“Present company excluded?” she teased.
His eyes met hers over his steaming mug, unexpectedly vulnerable. “Power has never interested me. Responsibility does.”
Something in his tone touched a chord within her. For all his centuries of existence, Xai carried his duties with humility—a quality she’d grown to admire alongside his strength.
“We should discuss living arrangements,” he said, gracefully changing the subject. “My penthouse suits a solitary dragon, but a lioness needs room to prowl.”
“Are you suggesting we move in together?” Zina raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprisingly domestic for someone who’s lived half a millennium.”
“Dragons maintain territories,” he corrected, though amusement glinted in his eyes. “I’m merely proposing we find a shared domain that honors both our natures.”
“Romantic,” she deadpanned, though her heart quickened at the implication.
“Perhaps the riverfront property near the eastern forest,” he continued, undeterred by her sarcasm. “Room for your lioness to roam, open skies for dragon flights, and privacy for...” He paused, heat flaring in his golden gaze. “Other activities.”
Zina felt her cheeks warm, memories of those “other activities” flickering through her mind. Her lioness stirred beneath her skin, responding to the barely concealed desire in his expression.
“That sounds...” She cleared her throat. “Practical.”
“Indeed.” His knowing smile suggested he heard everything she wasn’t saying. “Practicality above all.”
Their charged moment dissolved when Zina’s phone buzzed on the counter, Rust’s name illuminating the screen. The lion elder rarely called directly—council business typically went through Xai.
She answered, keeping her voice professionally neutral despite the dragon watching her with undisguised interest.
“The council’s called a special session,” she reported after ending the call. “They want all three guardians present to determine Severin’s fate.”
Xai nodded, his relaxed demeanor shifting to the poised dignity that marked him as a council elder. “Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”