Page 54 of A Roar for Magic

“And contractor estimates,” Sabine said cheerfully. “For the shop’s new open concept design.”

“Out,” Rook growled, but his lips twitched.

They left laughing, but not before extracting promises to keep them updated on Clover’s condition. Madame Zephyrine and Neve followed after giving detailed instructions that Rook committed to memory with military precision.

Finally alone, he gathered Clover closer, breathing in her wildflower scent beneath the lingering traces of medicinal herbs. Her magic sparkled against his, weak but pure again.

“Stop thinking so loud,” she mumbled into his chest.

“I’m not?—”

“You are.” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “Hudson won’t get away. The tracking spell will work.”

“I don’t care about Hudson right now.”

“Liar.” But she smiled. “Your tiger is practically vibrating with the need to hunt him down.”

“My tiger is more concerned with you.”

“I’m fine.” She yawned. “Or I will be. Just need some rest.”

“Sleep then.” He pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, finally claiming her mouth in a gentle caress. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” He settled them more comfortably, his tiger finally calming as she drifted off in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Let Hudson run. Let him think he had time to cover his tracks. Once Clover recovered, they would end this – together.

Right after he replaced those orchids.

THIRTY-THREE

Softness cradled Clover as she drifted toward consciousness. The familiar scent of healing herbs mingled with something else—a warm, spicy fragrance that made her magic hum contentedly. She inhaled deeper, chasing that comforting aroma.

“Finally deciding to rejoin the land of the living?” Poe’s sardonic voice cut through the fog. “About time. Your guard dog’s been wearing a path in the floorboards.”

Clover’s eyelids fluttered open. Afternoon sunlight painted golden patterns across her bedroom ceiling. A large, warm hand immediately enveloped hers.

“Hey.” Rook’s voice was rough with exhaustion, his usually perfect hair disheveled. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally pristine suit was wrinkled. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Because he hadn’t, she realized with a start. The memories filtered back slowly—Madame Zephyrine and Neve’s healing magic, Sabine and Romi taking turns bringing food and supplies, and through it all, Rook’s constant presence at her bedside.

“You stayed.” The words came out scratchy. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Here.” Rook helped her sit up, supporting her with one arm while offering a glass of water with the other. His movements were achingly gentle as if she might shatter. “Small sips.”

The cool water blessed her parched throat. Over the rim of the glass, she studied his haggard appearance. “How long was I out?”

“Two days, four hours, and approximately twenty-three minutes,” Poe supplied. “Not that anyone was counting. Though Mr. Alpha here certainly kept meticulous track. When he wasn’t growling at anyone who suggested he take a break.”

Rook’s ears pinked. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You nearly bit Sabine’s head off when she tried to make you shower,” the crow countered. “Your own sister! Though to be fair, you did need one. Badly.”

“I showered eventually,” Rook muttered.

“Yes, after Romi threatened to hex your nose off if you didn’t.” Poe preened smugly. “The stench was affecting her baking.”

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