Page 21 of Fired Up Love

Boxes—dozens of them—cluttered her pristine bamboo floors. Each one stamped boldly with “The Rock Spa” in red letters, though a hasty note redirected the shipment to her address. Inside, she glimpsed black volcanic rocks that belonged in a construction site, not her carefully curated haven of tranquility.

“Sure, because every relaxation center needs industrial supplies,” she muttered, edging sideways around a precariously stacked tower that threatened to topple at the slightest vibration. “Maybe I should start offering geological massage therapy.”

Her sarcasm died as a sharp crackle echoed from the corner. The state-of-the-art hydrotherapy tub—her pride and joy, three months of savings crystallized into therapeutic perfection—sat dark and lifeless except for intermittent sparks dancing along its control panel like malevolent fireflies.

“No, no, no...” She rushed forward. Her fingers hovered over the control panel, feeling residual heat from the electrical discharge. The damage wasn’t random—every cut looked surgical, precise. Someone had known exactly where to strike.

She followed the trail of destruction with growing horror. Power outlets nearest to the building’s foundation showed scorch marks. The water lines feeding her spiritual cleansing pools—positioned according to her mother’s ancient diagrams—had been systematically disconnected. Even the aromatic diffusers, placed at sacred geometrical angles to maximize energy flow, had been disabled.

The convergence point. Her mother had chosen this location specifically because multiple ley lines intersected here, creating a natural wellspring of magical energy perfect for healing.

The scratch of the front door unlocking and the bell above the door jingling cheerfully sounded so at odds with the destruction that her claws extended reflexively. Her lioness coiled, ready to defend their territory from any threat.

“Morning, boss! Ready for another day of dragon-tinged gossip and—” Bryn’s cheerful voice cut off abruptly. “Holy shit, what happened to our Zen paradise? Did a tornado have a vendetta against relaxation?”

“Someone’s redecorating without permission.” Zina forced her claws to retract, though her lioness continued to pace beneath her skin. “And they have terrible taste in color schemes.”

Bryn’s hair swung as she surveyed the damage, her bear shifter senses cataloging each anomaly. She crouched beside the hydrotherapy tub, strong fingers carefully examining the exposed wiring.

“These cuts look surgical,” she murmured, tracing the damage without touching. “No teeth marks or accidental wear. Clean slices like...” She glanced up, meeting Zina’s gaze. “Like claws.”

Zina’s stomach clenched. “Lion claws.”

“Could be.” Bryn moved to the circuit breaker, finding identical marks. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to hit for maximum damage. They understood our infrastructure better than most contractors would.”

“Check the side entrance.” Zina’s voice came out steadier than she felt.

They moved through the spa together, Bryn’s usual bounce replaced by predatory caution. The service door told its own story—black scorch marks radiated from where someone had forced entry.

Bryn studied the scorched wood. “This goes way beyond casual vandalism, boss. This is targeted. Professional.”

Before Zina could respond, a shrill voice cut through the spa’s damaged peace.

“Ms. Parker! Emergency appointment needed immediately!”

Zina suppressed a groan as Mrs. Plumworth strutted into view. The town’s most notorious gossip wore a dress that perfectly matched her magpie-shifter personality—all shimmering blues and greens that caught the morning light. Even though they’d only had a soft opening, Plumworth had established herself as both a blessing and a curse for business, spreading word about the spa’s excellence while simultaneously sharing every overheard tidbit.

“Mrs. Plumworth.” Zina summoned her professional smile, hoping it masked her internal chaos. “Your appointment isn’t until Thursday.”

“Darling, I couldn’t possibly wait!” The older woman fanned herself with perfectly manicured fingers, her movements theatrical enough for Broadway. “Not after last night’s excitement with our handsome new dragon elder. The stress of containing such delicious gossip is simply overwhelming! My tail feathers are practically molting from the strain.”

Bryn snorted quietly, covering it with a cough. She mouthed ‘good luck’ before retreating toward the supply room, ostensibly to handle the misdelivered rocks but more likely to escape the incoming gossip tsunami.

“Of course,” Zina heard herself say, autopilot engaging despite her racing thoughts. “Let’s get you settled in the aromatherapy room.”

NINETEEN

Twenty minutes later, Zina found herself working lavender oil into Mrs. Plumworth’s shoulders while the woman chattered endlessly about the charity dinner. Her hands moved through familiar motions—press, glide, knead—while her mind circled the morning’s revelations.

“—the entire room felt the temperature rise when you two locked eyes,” Mrs. Plumworth continued, completely unaware of Zina’s distraction. “Like dragon fire meets lioness heat. The champagne glasses were practically sweating! And the way he positioned himself between you and that dreadful Madrigal man? Pure alpha territorial behavior.”

“Elder Emberwylde attended in his official capacity,” Zina replied automatically, though her lioness preened at the memory of his protective stance.

“Official capacity, my tail feathers! That dragon was staking a claim clear as day.” Mrs. Plumworth twisted to look at her, forcing Zina to adjust her grip. “Speaking of claims, did you know Severin Madrigal tried to buy this property three times before your mother’s will transferred it to you?”

Zina’s hands froze mid-motion. “What?”

“Oh yes! My cousin Geraldine works at the county records office—sweet girl, bit of a magpie shifter, loves shiny things and paperwork equally.” Mrs. Plumworth settled back onto the massage table, warming to her subject. “She says Madrigal’s been obsessed with this exact spot for years. Offered your mother increasingly ridiculous sums, but she always refused. Claims there’s an ancient power nexus right under your massage tables!”

---