Page 32 of A Roar for Magic

“Yes, yes, go make your love potions.” Madame Zephyrine shooed them toward the door. “But, dear?” She caught Clover’s arm, lowering her voice. “Don’t fight what your magic already knows. Some bonds are written in the stars themselves.”

Outside, the late morning sun painted Mystical Grove in watercolor hues. Clover took a steadying breath, trying to process everything they’d learned. A warm hand settled at the small of her back.

“Hungry?” Rook asked, his thumb tracing soothing circles against her spine. “We could grab lunch before diving into formulation work.”

“Trying to follow Neve’s advice about sharing meals?” She smiled up at him, some of her tension easing at the answering warmth in his eyes.

“Maybe I simply want to spend time with you.” He guided her toward his car. “Besides, I hear Burgers After Dark is really good.”

“Burgers for a date meal?” She raised an eyebrow. “Not very alpha CEO of you.”

“Would you prefer caviar and champagne?”

“Stars, no. Burgers sound perfect.” She slid into the passenger seat, watching him round the hood with that fluid grace that never failed to catch her eye. “Though I have to warn you – I’m a strictly ketchup-only girl. No fancy aioli or truffle mayonnaise.”

His laugh filled the car, rich and genuine. “Noted. Any other condiment preferences I should know about?”

“I’m also strongly opposed to mustard in all its forms.”

“Clearly this mate bond was meant to be. I hate mustard too.”

The banter carried them to Burgers After Dark, a cozy spot tucked between a magical bookstore and an enchanted flower shop. Inside, strings of fairy lights cast a warm glow over rustic wooden tables, and the scent of grilled meat and fresh herbs filled the air. Their server, a young werewolf with bright blue hair, led them to a quiet corner booth.

“So,” Rook said once they’d ordered, “tell me about you growing up in Mystic Hollow. What was little Clover like?”

The question sparked memories – summer afternoons spent practicing spells in her parents’ garden, winter evenings curled up with magical texts while her mother brewed potions nearby. Joy mingled with old grief, and something in her expression must have shifted because Rook reached across the table to take her hand.

“You don’t have to?—”

“No, it’s okay.” She squeezed his fingers. “I want to tell you.” Taking a deep breath, she began sharing stories of her childhood – the magical mishaps, the adventures with Romi, the way her parents had encouraged her growing powers while teaching her the importance of using magic responsibly.

“They sound wonderful,” Rook said softly when she described how they’d constantly traveled for magical research, taking her along to conferences and expeditions.

“They were.” She traced patterns on the condensation of her water glass. “When they died... I was eighteen, fresh out of high school. There was a magical conference in San Francisco. An earthquake hit, and they...” She swallowed hard. “They stayed behind to help others evacuate. The building collapsed before they could get out themselves.”

Rook’s hand tightened around hers. “They died heroes.”

“Yeah.” She blinked back tears. “That’s why I opened the shops. They always said magic should be used to help people, to make lives better. I wanted to honor that.”

“You do.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “Every day, with every person you help. They’d be proud of you.”

The simple sincerity in his voice wrapped around her heart like a warm blanket. “Your turn,” she said, needing to shift focus before she completely fell apart in the middle of lunch. “Tell me about young Rook. Were you always so...”

“Alpha-y?” His lips quirked.

“I was going to say serious, but yeah.”

His expression turned thoughtful as their food arrived. “Honestly? I was kind of a mess after my father died...” He took a bite of his burger, gathering his thoughts. “I threw myself into studying. Anything I thought would help me live up to his legacy.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for a kid.”

“Looking back, yeah. But at the time...” He shrugged. “It gave me purpose. A way to feel close to him. The spa project though...” A soft smile crossed his face. “That’s more about my grandmother. Seeing her deal with the aches and pains of aging, watching other elders struggle... I wanted to create something that could truly help.”

“Hence the medicinal scents.”

“Exactly. Traditional medicine enhanced by science and magic.” His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Imagine treatments tailored specifically to shifter biology, or spells woven into aromatherapy to boost natural healing...”

Clover’s magic surged with answering excitement. “We could layer protection spells through the base formulas, add enhancement charms to the carrier oils...”

---