Page 14 of A Roar for Magic

Before she could answer, the shop door chimed. A customer entered, immediately drawn to the seasonal display. Clover started to move away, but Rook caught her hand. Energy crackled between them at the contact.

“Clover.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Is it a yes?”

She studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Finally, she squeezed his hand once before pulling away.

“Yes,” she said softly. “But only because I’m curious about your security needs and working with you on a new scent. This isn’t a date.”

His tiger practically radiated smugness.Sure, it’s not, the beast purred.Keep telling yourself that, little witch.

“Of course not,” Rook agreed, fighting to keep his own satisfaction from showing. “Purely professional.”

“Right.” Poe’s sarcastic voice drifted down from above. “And I’m a peacock in disguise.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to fly to?” Clover glared at her familiar.

“Nope. This is much more entertaining.”

Rook should have left then. He had meetings scheduled, pride matters to handle, and a corporate saboteur to investigate. Instead, he found himself browsing the shop’s new arrivals, stealing glances at Clover as she helped customers. His tiger basked in her presence, more content than it had been in years.

When he finally forced himself to leave an hour later, he had several unnecessary candles, a dinner date disguised as a business meeting, and absolutely no regrets.

Well, maybe one regret—he probably shouldn’t have growled at that male customer who’d asked for Clover’s “personal recommendation” on romantic scents.

But in his defense, the guy had been standing way too close.

And really, what else was an alpha tiger supposed to do when someone eyed their mate?

Not our mate yet, he reminded his tiger sternly.

Soon.

SEVEN

Rainbow light danced across the polished wooden tables of Witch’s Brew Café, cast by enchanted crystals dangling in the bay windows. The morning sun caught their facets, sending prismatic patterns spinning across walls adorned with floating teacups and animated artwork.

Rich aromas layered the air—freshly ground coffee beans blessed under the full moon, pastries pulled moments ago from ovens that never burned anything (unless they sensed someone was having a particularly bad day and needed slightly singed comfort food), and Romi’s latest experimental brew, which seemed to be emitting sparkles and a scent like summer rain.

Clover sank deeper into the plush velvet booth, letting the familiar magic of her cousin’s café wash over her. A fairy light floated past, carrying a tray of delicate porcelain cups that chimed soft musical notes when they clinked together.

“Incoming!” Romi’s voice rang out as she navigated between the tables with practiced grace. She carried an enormous tray loaded with steaming mugs, each one garnished with what appeared to be tiny, edible butterflies crafted from sugar and starlight. “One rose-petal cappuccino with extra sparkles for myfavorite candle-making cousin, one lavender dream latte for our resident troublemaker?—”

“I resent that accusation,” Sabine Katz interjected, grinning as she accepted her drink. “I prefer the term ‘chaos coordinator.’“

“—and my latest creation.” Romi set down a swirling, iridescent concoction that smelled like midnight gardens and possibility. “I call it the Moonflower Mocha. It makes you temporarily speak in rhyme, but only happy ones.”

“That explains why I heard Mrs. Wellby reciting poetry about her cat this morning,” Clover mused, watching one of her sugar butterflies take tentative flight before dissolving in a shower of sweetness over her cappuccino.

“Speaking of poetry...” Sabine leaned forward, her honey-blonde hair catching the light as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let’s talk about my brother’s rather impressive display of destruction in your shop a few days ago. I haven’t seen him that flustered since his college graduation speech when he accidentally thanked his ‘fellow felines’ instead of his ‘fellow students.’“

“He did not!” Clover’s laugh escaped before she could stop it.

“Oh yes.” Sabine’s grin widened. “The tiger was so close to the surface that day, he slipped up. The whole pride was in the audience trying not to howl with laughter. Mother was mortified, but grandmother thought it was hilarious.”

“Almost as hilarious as watching him knock over your entire mood-matching display,” Romi added, sliding into the booth beside Clover. “Those candles knew exactly what they were doing, by the way. I’ve never seen such deliberately romantic chaos.”

“It wasn’t romantic,” Clover protested. “It was...”

“Magical?” Sabine suggested innocently.

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