Page 44 of A Roar for Magic

Heat flared in his veins. He backed her against the elevator wall as soon as the doors closed. “Is that so?”

“Mmm.” She tilted her face up, teasing. “Though your coffee still sucks.”

He shut her up with a kiss, deep and thorough. She tasted like cinnamon and honey, and her magic sparked against his tongue. When they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed and her lips deliciously swollen.

“That’s cheating,” she accused breathlessly.

“All’s fair in love and coffee criticism.” But his tiger preened at her dazed expression.

The elevator dinged, and Clover quickly smoothed her dress. “Behave yourself. We have work to do.”

The lab hummed with quiet energy, machines processing data while technicians moved between workstations. Rook led Clover to his private research area, separated from the main lab by glass walls.

“Very mad scientist chic,” she observed, setting her bag on a counter. “Though I see Frederick’s looking perkier today.”

The ficus she gifted him did seem lively. Rook suspected the plant responded to Clover’s natural magic. “He missed you.”

“Just Frederick?” She unpacked various bottles and herbs, arranging them with practiced efficiency.

“Maybe I missed you too.” He stepped close behind her, breathing in her wildflower scent. “A little.”

“A little?” She leaned back against his chest. “Guess I’ll take my coffee and go then...”

He growled—fine, yes, he did growl—and nipped her ear. “Stay.”

Her laugh warmed him to his bones. But she pulled away, all business now. “Okay, tiger. Let’s get to work. Before we continue where we left off, show me some of what you’ve got going here.”

TWENTY-SIX

For the next hour, they compared techniques. Rook demonstrated his scientific approach—precise measurements, controlled variables, extensive testing protocols. Clover watched with genuine interest, asking intelligent questions about molecular structures and binding agents.

Then she showed him her method. Where his work relied on exactness, hers flowed like a dance. She chose ingredients by scent and feel, letting magic guide her hands. She brought some of the Weaver’s Botanicals they’d agreed upon. A pinch of dried herbs here, three drops of essence there, all accompanied by soft spells that made the mixtures shimmer and swirl.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, watching her work. She glowed with quiet confidence, completely in her element.

“It’s different,” she corrected. “Not better or worse than your way. Just different.” She added a sprinkle of something that smelled like starlight. “That’s why I think combining our methods works so well. Balance the precision with intuition.”

“Like us?” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Her hands stilled. “Like us.”

The air thickened with possibility. Rook stepped closer, drawn by the soft look in her eyes. “Clover?—”

Lane burst in without knocking. “Uncle Rook! Did you see the latest—oh.” He grinned at their proximity. “Bad time?”

Rook’s tiger snarled in frustration. “What do you want, Lane?”

“Just thought you should know Hudson’s people are sniffing around our suppliers. More backed out this morning.” Lane’s gaze kept drifting to Clover. “We could really use some of that Weaver magic to help shore up contracts.”

“She’s busy.” Rook moved slightly in front of Clover, blocking Lane’s view. His tiger refused to share her attention.

“I can speak for myself, you know.” Clover nudged him aside. “What kind of help do you need, Lane?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rook muttered.

She ignored him. “Maybe we could create protection amulets for the loyal suppliers? Something to shield them from magical coercion?”

Lane beamed. “That’s brilliant! I could help distribute them, maybe take you to lunch to discuss details?—”

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