Page 27 of Love At First Roar
In that cozy tavern glow, Cora’s view of the snarly guardian changed. Maybe he was rough edges and rumbling warnings, but he was also loyalty carved deep, and bravery that walked wounded but upright.
She lifted her mug toward him. “To Hollow Oak and its stubborn lions.”
His lips twitched, and this time the smile broke free, small but real. He clinked his water against her mead. “And to enchantresses who make brooms flirt.”
14
CALLUM
Callum preferred his patrols silent. The woods spoke in quiet ways if a ranger listened: the hush of breeze over pine needles, the warning click of a squirrel tail, the distant rush of Moonmirror Lake kissing the shoreline. Silence let him hear trouble long before it stepped from shadow.
Silence, however, was in short supply now that Cora walked beside him.
She hummed while they hiked. Not loudly, just a lift of melody under her breath. Sometimes it sounded like a lullaby, other times like tavern fiddle, always soft enough that he could pretend he did not enjoy it. The truth sat hot behind his ribs. He liked it more than he cared to admit.
“Does the tune bother you?” she asked, glancing up through blond lashes. Green eyes glittered with teasing warmth.
He kept his gaze forward, scanning the narrow trail. “I patrol. You hum. We both cope.”
She laughed, bright as morning sun. “That is almost a compliment, ranger.”
He grunted. “Do not let it go to your head.”
The path curved toward a thicket of mountain laurel. Branches shifted on their own, bending politely out of Cora’s way. Callum slowed, brow furrowing. He had trekked this route a hundred times and never once had the shrubs played doorman.
“You noticing this?” he muttered.
Cora trailed fingers over waxy leaves. “The forest says hello.”
He stopped. “It speaks now?”
“In feelings,” she answered, stepping through the new gap. “Warm when it approves, sharp when it doesn’t. Right now it feels… welcoming.”
Callum studied the laurel. No wind. No visible magic. Yet the branches remained parted until he passed, then settled back with a whisper. A small shiver crawled along his spine. Awe twined with unease. The woods had always been alive, but this… this was deference.
“Forest never did that for me,” he said, trying for gruff, missing by a mile.
She flashed a grin. “Maybe it likes daisies more than brooding.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I do not brood.”
“You practice advanced scowling,” she replied. “Different skill altogether.”
A reluctant smile tugged his mouth. He bit it back, clearing his throat. “Stay focused. We check the wards near Hollow Creek, then circle to the lake. Any tug on the Veil, you tell me.”
“Yes, Captain Cross,” she answered, mock salute at the ready.
Since the tavern, she had seemed more herself around him and part of him was pissed at his cousin for that while the other half… well, he tried to ignore that part.
She kept humming as they walked. Birds picked up the tune, warbling in the canopy. Leaves above rustled like applause.Callum’s chest tightened in strange contentment. The lion inside lifted its head, ears angled toward her voice.
Mate.
He forced the thought away, lengthening his stride. Tall trunks marched on both sides, oak and ash thick with summer green. Sunlight dappled across her hair, turning strands to pale gold. The breeze carried her scent, lilac and something warm, almost spicy. He exhaled through his nose, steadying himself against the pull.
They reached the first ward marker, a smooth river stone wedged between twin maples. Runes glowed faint silver along its surface. Callum pressed a hand to the stone. The ward hummed back: stable.
“Looks good,” he murmured. “No fractures here.”
