Page 30 of A Roar for Magic

“Eleven.” His thumb traced circles on her palm, sending shivers up her arm. “Too young to run a company, but old enough to know I couldn’t let my father’s legacy fall apart.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called from above. “Young Clover! And Alpha Katz – how intriguing.”

Otis Quill perched on his rolling ladder twenty feet up, peering down at them through enchanted spectacles that magnified his owl-like eyes. With surprising agility for someone who appeared to be in his late eighties, he descended to greet them.

“We need your help.” Clover pulled out her phone, showing him the documented scorch marks. “These keep appearing around my shops. There’s corrupted tiger magic involved, but something else too – something darker.”

Otis adjusted his spectacles, studying the images with such intensity that the magical lenses began to smoke slightly. “Oh dear. Oh dear indeed.” He disappeared into the stacks, muttering to himself.

“Is he always so...”

“Dramatic?” Clover smiled. “You should see him during the annual book reorganization. Last year he spent three hours arguing with a medical text about proper alphabetization.”

“The book started it,” Otis announced, returning with an ancient grimoire bound in what appeared to be dragon scales. “Now then, look here.”

The page he opened showed an illustration of marks identical to those outside her shop. The ink still swirled with residual magic after centuries, forming intricate patterns that made Clover’s magic recoil.

“These are remnants of an ancient ritual,” Otis explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Designed to sever the bond between fated mates.”

Clover’s heart stuttered. She darted a glance at Rook, whose expression had turned thunderous. Their joined hands tightened unconsciously.

“Fated mates?” Her voice emerged smaller than intended.

“Indeed.” Otis peered at them over his spectacles, eyes twinkling. “Surely, you’ve noticed? The way your magics reach for each other? The natural synchronicity of your movements?” He chuckled at their stunned expressions. “The signs are quite obvious to those who know where to look.”

“But that would mean...” Clover trailed off, mind racing. The instant spark of connection when they’d met. The way her magic constantly sought his. How perfectly they’d fit together when he kissed her...

“Someone’s trying to break our bond before it fully forms,” Rook growled, his tiger energy rippling through the air. Several nearby books shuddered in response.

“Precisely.” Otis nodded gravely. “And they’re using very old, very dark magic to do it. You’ll want to consult Madame Zephyrine about this. Such bonds, once targeted, require special protection.” He hesitated, then added, “And perhaps avoid any prolonged separation. The ritual’s power grows stronger when fated pairs are apart.”

“So what you’re saying is...” Clover tried to steady her racing pulse.

“You’ll need to spend more time together,” Otis confirmed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “For purely protective purposes, of course.”

Rook’s thumb hadn’t stopped tracing patterns on her palm, each touch sending sparks of awareness through her body. “We’ll do it anyway. We’ll have to work closely on those spa formulations,” he murmured, his voice carrying that tiger-deep rumble.

“I guess,” Clover agreed weakly.

“Oh yes, very sensible.” Otis beamed at them. “Though you might want to put up a shield before any more books try to dive-bomb Alpha Katz. They’re quite romantic, you see. Always trying to play matchmaker.”

Sure enough, a small contingent of poetry volumes had begun inching their way off the highest shelf, apparently intent on raining down literary inspiration.

“Time to go,” Clover decided, tugging Rook toward the exit before the entire Romance section decided to get involved. “Thank you, Otis.”

“Young love,” they heard him sigh happily as they escaped. “Makes the whole archive glow.”

NINETEEN

Once outside, Clover tried to process everything they’d learned. Fated mates. The words thrummed through her veins like a forgotten spell suddenly remembered. It explained so much – the instant connection, the way his presence both calmed and excited her magic, the bone-deep certainty that had been growing since that first kiss...She knew shifters had fated mates, but she had no idea she’d be Rook’s.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Rook murmured, stepping close enough that she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. His hands settled on her waist, warm and steady. “I can practically hear the wheels turning.”

“This is a lot to take in,” she protested, even as her hands came to rest on his chest of their own accord. His heart beat strong and fast beneath her palm. “Finding a fated mate is rare, and with everything else going on...”

“We can do it.” His expression softened in a way she’d only seen directed at her. “But first, we should see Madame Zephyrine before Otis sends his entire library after us as an escort.”

A glance back showed several books pressed hopefully against the archive windows. One particularly ambitious volumeof love poems appeared to be trying to squeeze through a mail slot.

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