Page 29 of A Roar for Magic

“An hour during which three people thought they were having conversations with a ghost.” Halle’s grin turned wicked. “Though watching Mrs. Pembroke scream and throw her purse through my head was pretty entertaining.”

“That wasn’t—” Clover started, but her protest died as Rook’s SUV pulled into the parking lot. So far she’d seen him in four different vehicles. He clearly had a thing for cars. Her magic surged in recognition before she could suppress it, remembering all too well how it had sparked when he kissed her at the picnic. The way his tiger energy had wrapped around her, warm and electric...

“Speaking of distracting tigers.” Halle waggled her eyebrows. “Want me to make myself scarce? Give you two some alone time to examine the, uh, scorch marks?”

“You’re fired.”

“You say that at least twice a week.”

“And yet somehow you’re still here.”

“Because you’d miss my sparkling wit and incredible candle-arranging skills.”

“I’d miss the peace and quiet more,” Clover muttered, but she couldn’t help smiling. Her apprentice’s irreverent humor always lightened even the darkest moments.

Rook approached with that fluid grace that drew her eye despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand. He’d forgone his usual suit for dark jeans and a button-down that did nothing to hide his powerful build. The man had a body that gave her wet dreams. Way too frequently. The morning sun caught golden highlights in his hair, and his hazel eyes held that intensity that made her pulse skip. How could a man be so hot?

Not that she was noticing any of that. She had mysterious magical vandalism to investigate.

“More marks?” He crouched beside her, close enough that his warmth seeped into her side. The spicy notes of his cologne mixed with his natural musk, and her magic hummed in response.

“Third set this week.” She gestured to the distinctive spiral pattern, trying to ignore how his proximity scattered her thoughts. “Same corrupted tiger energy as before.”

His expression darkened. “It has to be Hudson.”

“Probably. But we need proof before we can take it before the council.” She brushed her fingers over the marks again, and a spark of electricity jumped between them when his hand covered hers.

“Be careful,” he murmured. “That magic could be dangerous.”

The genuine concern in his voice made her heart flutter. She caught Halle and Poe exchanging knowing looks and cleared herthroat. “We should consult Otis. If anyone knows about obscure magical attacks, it’s him and that massive collection of tomes in the archives.”

“I’ll hold down the fort here,” Halle offered with exaggerated innocence. “You two kids have fun at the archives.”

“Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity,” Rook told her, his protective alpha nature showing through. “And call immediately if?—”

“If I see anything weird, call you, Clover, Banner, the Enforcers, and possibly the ghost of Elvis, got it.” Halle mock-saluted. “Though honestly, the most suspicious activity around here lately is how often you find excuses to visit our little shop.”

Clover groaned. “Halle...”

“What? I’m just saying, for someone who supposedly needed one sleep-aid candle last week, you sure bought an awful lot of inventory.”

“I’ll add insubordination to the reasons you’re fired,” Clover informed her as Rook guided her toward his car with a warm hand at the small of her back.

The drive to the archives passed in charged silence. Clover caught herself sneaking glances at Rook’s profile, admiring the strong line of his jaw and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel with casual confidence.

Every time they slowed, she noticed his gaze sliding to her, dark and intent. She really wanted to kiss him again. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, memories of their kiss at the picnic making her magic dance beneath her skin.

The Mystic Hollow Archives rose before them like a cathedral of knowledge, its enchanted timber walls shifting through subtle color variations in the morning light. Inside, the familiar scent of old books and magical ink wrapped around them like a comfortable blanket. Towering shelves stretched toward thevaulted ceiling where floating orbs of light drifted between the stacks like curious fireflies.

“I never get tired of this place,” Clover murmured, trailing her fingers along a shelf of ancient grimoires. The books hummed in response to her magic, their pages rustling gently.

“I used to hide here during pride meetings,” Rook admitted, ducking under a particularly enthusiastic tome that tried to float down to him. “The quiet helped me think.”

“You? Hiding from responsibilities?” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you came out of the womb running board meetings.”

His laugh echoed through the stacks, rich and genuine in a way that made her heart skip. “Hardly. After my father died, I...” He paused, vulnerability flickering across his face. “I spent a lot of time here, reading everything I could about business management. Trying to figure out how to be what everyone needed me to be.”

The confession tugged at something in Clover’s chest. She reached for his hand without thinking, threading their fingers together. “How old were you?”

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