Page 26 of Fired Up Love

“Fierce lioness,” he breathed, gently removing the suit jacket to examine her injuries.

TWENTY-FIVE

Dragons ran hot by nature, but the fire building inside him now threatened to ignite the very air. Picture frames rattled on the walls. Wood creaked as humidity evaporated in the suddenly desert-dry room.

He forced his breathing to slow, centering himself. She needed healing, not vengeance. Not yet.

His hands moved with practiced precision, calling upon skills honed over centuries. Dragon fire manifested not as destructive force but as microscopic pinpoints of heat that sealed blood vessels and purified damaged tissue. He worked methodically from the most severe injuries, his touch featherlight despite the trembling rage that threatened to consume him.

Cleaning blood from golden skin that should never have been marred, Xai found himself memorizing every curve and plane of her body. His dragon recognized her on a level deeper than physical attraction—something ancient and immutable clicking into place.

“What... are you doing to me?” Zina’s voice, barely audible, startled him from his work.

Her eyes, half-lidded and hazy with pain, focused on his face. The ghost of her usual irreverent humor flickered across her features.

“Healing you,” he answered, voice rougher than intended.

“With... dragon magic?” She winced as he cleaned a particularly deep gash along her side.

“Dragon fire has purifying properties when properly controlled.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “And here I thought... you were just... hot-tempered.”

Something inside him cracked—a wall of solemn reserve built over centuries. A sound escaped him, startling them both—a genuine laugh, rusty from disuse.

“Five attackers, and you still manage jokes.” He shook his head, continuing his ministrations. “Lionesses never cease to surprise me.”

“Five to one... seemed... unfair to them.” Her attempt at bravado dissolved into a grimace as he wrapped bandages around her ribs.

“What happened?” He kept his tone gentle, though fury smoldered beneath.

“Severin’s enforcers.” She swallowed hard. “Ambushed me... behind the spa.”

The temperature in the room climbed another ten degrees.

“They want... something underneath.” Her voice strengthened slightly as his healing magic took effect. “Not just the ley line. Something they’ve wanted for generations.”

Xai’s hands stilled. “Did they say what?”

“Just that... Madrigal blood had claim to what lies beneath. That my mother... stole their birthright.” Her eyes drifted closed, then forced themselves open again. “My ribs are on fire.”

“That’s the healing. It will pass.” He resumed his work, mind racing. Madrigal’s obsession ran deeper than mere power-grabbing. Family history. Blood claims. This complicated matters significantly.

Zina’s hand unexpectedly covered his, stopping his methodical bandaging. Her fingers felt cool against his superheated skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For finding me.”

The simple gratitude hit him harder than any attack could have. His dragon surged forward, scales rippling visibly beneath his skin. Eyes blazing red, he leaned closer until mere inches separated them.

“I will always find you,” he promised, the words carrying weight beyond their simple meaning. “Always.”

TWENTY-SIX

Her pupils expanded, then contracted to feline slits as her lioness responded to his intensity. Her hand lifted shakily to his face, fingertips trailing across his cheekbone where scales shimmered just beneath the surface.

The touch ignited something primal. Centuries of control shattered. Xai captured her lips with his own, pouring hundreds years of solitude and newfound need into the contact. Heat flared between them—not just his dragon fire but something equally powerful from her lioness spirit.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, weak but determined, pulling him closer despite her injuries. When they finally parted, both breathless, her eyes glowed with feline gold.

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