Page 24 of Love At First Roar
Her gaze followed his to where Cora fussed happily over flowerbeds that definitely hadn’t existed yesterday. “She’s settling nicely, isn’t she?”
“Too nicely,” he muttered sourly.
Miriam chuckled softly. “You know, for someone so determined not to like her, you spend an awful lot of time watching her.”
He bristled slightly, glaring down at the petite human widow who had always seen straight through him. “I’m supervising. Someone has to keep her from blowing up the Veil.”
She patted his arm gently. “Sure you are, dear. And I’m just here picking daisies.”
He scowled, unable to summon irritation toward her gentle teasing. Miriam had been a steadfast figure in Hollow Oak for decades, running the Hearth & Hollow Inn with quiet grace, always the calm center amidst chaos. He respected her immensely, even if her insight unnerved him.
“I don’t trust how the town responds to her,” he admitted roughly. “It’s too soon, too easy.”
Miriam’s gaze softened. “Maybe easy is exactly what we need. Not every good thing must be earned with pain, Callum.”
He didn’t answer, throat tight. Good things came with steep prices, he’d learned that truth hard enough. Yet the stubborn set of Miriam’s jaw told him arguing would get nowhere. She squeezed his arm once more before moving off toward town, leaving him to his watchful solitude again.
He turned back to Cora, and the sight stopped him cold.
She’d lifted her face to the sun, eyes closed, expression serene. Magic curled gently around her fingertips like silk ribbons, pale green and gold, dancing in the warm air. It flowed outward, brushing tenderly against the trees, weaving softly through the undergrowth.
Instantly, the woods exhaled. Leaves rustled contentedly, vines relaxed their tangled grip, and a soft breeze lifted around her like the forest itself was sighing in relief. She looked like she belonged there—right there—in Hollow Oak’s quiet heart.
Mate,his lion growled insistently again.
“Enough,” he whispered fiercely to himself, fists clenching.
But the stubborn word lingered, burrowing deeper into his heart every time he pushed it away. And as Cora finally turned, her soft green eyes finding his hiding spot with surprising ease, he saw a shy smile curve her lips. His pulse raced unwillingly.
“Were you planning on coming over,” she called playfully, “or just standing there brooding all day?”
He stepped out from the shadows with an irritated grunt. “I don’t brood.”
She laughed softly, a warm, addictive sound. “Oh, of course not. Just casually lurking in bushes, then?”
“Supervising,” he corrected stiffly, but found himself walking closer anyway. The lilac scent grew stronger, sweeter, harder to resist.
“Right,” she agreed lightly. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Want tea while you supervise?”
“I’m working,” he protested gruffly.
“You can work and drink tea at the same time,” she teased gently, smile hopeful, eyes inviting.
Against all better judgment, he found himself nodding once. “Fine. But no enchantments this time.”
She held up both hands innocently, laughter brightening her face. “Promise.”
He followed her reluctantly toward the cottage, heart pounding unevenly in his chest, every instinct both protesting and celebrating. This was dangerous. Reckless. Tempting fate in ways he couldn’t afford.
As Cora turned to beam brightly up at him, her lilac scent curling softly around his senses, Callum knew he was already lost.
And damn if a stubborn part of him wasn’t starting to like it.
13
CORA
The Silver Fang looked like the sort of pub bards wrote about. Its stone walls wore ivy like jewelry, and every pane of leaded glass spilled buttery light onto the cobbles. A hand-painted sign bearing a stylized lion’s head creaked overhead while wood-smoke drifted through the dusk. Cora paused on the threshold, tugging her braid forward, nerves dancing along her skin.
