Page 61 of Fired Up Love

The video showed Severin forcing a struggling woman out of the back seat of his luxury car. Though the angle made identification difficult, the honey-blonde hair and stylish dress were unmistakable.

“Luciana,” Xai murmured, tension radiating from him in palpable waves.

Jash nodded grimly. “Microphones picked up fragments. He mentioned ‘the final bloodline component’ and ‘completing the triangle.’“

Ice formed in Zina’s stomach as pieces aligned with terrible clarity. “Of course. She has Gravemont blood too.”

All eyes turned to her in surprise.

“The Gravemont family—panthers—supposedly died out decades ago,” Zina explained, remembering her mother’s stories. “But some say they intermarried with lion shifters to preserve their lineage. Severin claims he has their bloodline.”

“Madrigals have always claimed pure lion heritage,” Rust noted, his mayoral authority evident in his controlled tone.

Kalyna straightened. “I remember seeing some ancient family trees in the library archives. I know a Gravemont-Madrigal union happened about six or seven generations back.”

“He speaks the truth then. Severin needs representatives of all three founding families,” Xai said, his voice hardening. “Dragon, lion, and panther—the original creators of the Founding Pyre.”

“But why Luciana?” Bryn asked. “Severin himself has the same bloodline.”

“Because the ritual requires three separate vessels,” Xai replied. “He can’t represent two points of the triangle himself.”

The implications chilled Zina to the bone. “He’s going to use her as a sacrifice.”

“His own sister?” Thora’s voice cut through the shocked silence, her sabertooth heritage evident in her predatory stillness. “That’s?—”

“Exactly what he’d do,” Artemis interrupted, unusually somber. “Power-hungry men rarely let family ties stand in their way.”

“We need to go get her away from him,” Zina decided, checking the position of the blood moon through the window. Its crimson face had risen higher, casting unnatural shadows across the room. “Luciana doesn’t have much time.”

“But the preparations—” Bryn began.

“Will have to be enough.” Zina gathered her jacket, instinct overriding caution. “If we wait to be completely ready, we’ll be too late to save her.”

No one argued. In moments, equipment was distributed and teams formed based on natural affinities. Zina would lead Bryn and Jamie toward the greenhouse where the hedge witch’s plant magic would provide cover. Xai, Noven, and Thora would approach the main house where the defenses would be strongest.

As the others made final preparations, Xai pulled Zina aside, one hand coming up to cup her face. For the first time, she saw genuine fear beneath his controlled exterior—not for himself, but for her.

“Be careful,” he murmured, voice pitched low for her ears alone. “Severin is desperate, and desperation makes men dangerous.”

“I will if you will.” She attempted a smile that faltered under the intensity of his gaze.

His thumb brushed across her cheekbone in a gesture so tender it nearly undid her composure. “When this is over?—”

“We’re taking that vacation,” she finished for him, remembering his earlier promise. “Somewhere with no magical emergencies and a very sturdy bed.”

That drew a reluctant smile from him. “I was going to say when this is over, we should discuss more permanent arrangements.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Permanent?”

“Dragon mating isn’t temporary, lioness.” His eyes held hers, centuries of certainty in their golden depths. “I’ve learned to recognize what matters. You matter. Us, together, matters.”

Before she could form a coherent response to such a monumental declaration, he reached toward his chest. His fingers pressed against the skin near his heart, and with a grimace suggesting minor pain, he extracted something from beneath his skin.

A scale—obsidian-gold and warm as sunstone—rested in his palm.

“A dragon’s scale freely given connects us,” he explained, placing it in her hand. “When it burns hotter, I’m near. When it vibrates, I’m thinking of you.”

The scale’s weight settled against her palm like a physical embodiment of his trust. From the reverence in his voice, she understood this wasn’t a common dragon tradition but something sacred—intimate in ways words couldn’t capture.

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