Page 58 of Fired Up Love

“The blood moon rises early,” he murmured, tension evident in the set of his shoulders. “Severin will be making preparations.”

Reality crashed back with brutal force. Their enemies. The ritual. The threat to everything she’d built.

“How much time do we have?” Zina slipped from the bed, pulling on a robe as the comfort of moments ago evaporated.

“The moon reaches its zenith at midnight.” His eyes tracked her movement across the room, his expression shifting from lover to warrior. “Eighteen hours, at most.”

Eighteen hours to prevent catastrophe. To protect her mother’s legacy. To save Enchanted Falls from whatever madness Severin Madrigal planned.

And yet, as Xai reached for his shirt discarded on her chair, Zina couldn’t help but pause to admire the play of muscles across his back. Even in crisis, her body remembered the touch of those hands, the heat of that skin against hers.

He caught her staring, a knowing smile ghosting across his lips. “Later,” he promised, his voice dropped to a register that made her toes curl against the hardwood floor. “When this is over, I intend to properly appreciate waking up beside you without magical catastrophe interrupting.”

Zina crossed to him, rising on tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll hold you to that, dragon.”

FIFTY-SIX

The Founding Pyre chamber seemed smaller in the blood moon’s influence, the ancient stones pressing closer like sentient observers. Zina descended the hidden staircase behind Xai, her hand trailing along the cool wall for balance. The air grew thicker with each step, heavy with magic and untold centuries of power.

At the chamber’s heart, the triangular flame pulsed erratically. No longer the steady, harmonious glow they’d first discovered, now the tri-colored fire fractured into separate tendrils—gold, purple, and red reaching outward as if seeking escape from their eternal convergence.

“Something’s wrong,” Zina whispered, though the observation seemed painfully obvious. “The flames shouldn’t move like this.”

“The blood moon disrupts the balance.” Xai circled the platform, maintaining a cautious distance.

“This is so not good,” she murmured. “We need to prepare. Eighteen hours isn’t much time to save the world.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. “I’ve accomplished quite a lot in less.”

“Arrogant dragon,” she teased, leaning into his touch, nonetheless.

“Confident,” he corrected, bending to brush his lips across hers. “Long life teaches one to appreciate the value of time.”

The kiss remained light, a promise rather than a demand. They both understood the danger looming ahead—the luxury of distraction would come later. If they survived.

FIFTY-SEVEN

By mid-morning, Purrfect Oasis hummed with controlled chaos. Zina’s reception area transformed into an impromptu command center with town maps spread across treatment tables and magical artifacts replacing the usual display of spa products.

“The crystal network’s ready.” Bryn placed smoky quartz stones in a semicircle on the reception desk, each glowing with a faint inner light. “They only hold a three-block range, though. Budget cuts in the apocalypse.”

“Will they penetrate the Gravemont property?” Xai asked, inspecting one of the crystals.

“Theoretically.” Bryn shrugged. “But that place has old magic. Centuries of paranoia built into the foundation.”

Something in her casual confidence caught Zina’s attention. She’d known Bryn for years, but the younger woman rarely displayed such expertise in magical matters. Before she could comment, Bryn’s gaze shifted between her and Xai, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“So...” She stretched the word into multiple syllables. “Last night must have been interesting. You two seem... cozy.”

Heat rushed into Zina’s cheeks. She’d changed into fresh clothes, but no amount of professionalism could hide the lingering awareness between her and Xai. His hand rested on the small of her back, the casual intimacy saying more than words ever could.

“Focus, Bryn,” Zina attempted to sound stern, but couldn’t suppress her smile.

The door burst open before Bryn could respond, bringing with it the heavenly scent of freshly baked goods. Artemis breezed in with her pastry cart. Unlike the others, the fae baker appeared entirely unfazed by the impending crisis, her smile as bright as ever.

“Blood Moon Brownies and Dragon-Bite Blondies!” she announced, sweeping into the room like she owned it. “Crisis cuisine for our supernatural SWAT team! Nobody fights evil on an empty stomach.”

She distributed boxes across the makeshift command center, pausing to hand Zina a specially wrapped package. “Extra spicy cinnamon for dragon lovers,” she whispered with an exaggerated wink. “Trust me, you’ll need the energy after what I’m guessing was averylate night.”

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