Page 28 of Love At First Roar
Cora knelt, palm hovering above the runes. A gentle pulse of light flared then quieted. “Agrees with you. Veil is calm in this spot.”
They continued, weaving deeper into the forest. The farther they walked, the more he noticed odd details. Vines unclasped their tendrils so her skirt would not snag. A cluster of mushrooms tilted like little hats as she passed. Even the squirrel that usually chattered threats at Callum paused to watch her with bright curiosity.
She hummed a new tune, lilting, playful. He found himself stepping in rhythm.
“Tell me something about you,” she said suddenly. “Something not classified.”
He lifted a brow. “Like what?”
“Favorite food. Secret hobby. Anything.”
He adjusted the pack on his shoulders. “I write poetry.” The admission slipped before he could lock it down. What in the hell was he thinking admitting that to her?
Her eyes widened with delighted surprise. “Really? That is wonderful.”
His cheeks warmed. “It is nothing.”
“Not nothing. Words matter.” She nudged his elbow. “Will you share one sometime?”
“Doubtful.”
She chuckled. “Stubborn.”
“Careful, enchantress. Rocks up ahead.”
They crossed a rocky stream bed, stones slick underfoot. Callum offered his hand without thinking. She took it, fingers small but sure in his grip. Heat darted up his arm. He guided her across, releasing her as soon as they hit solid ground yet missing the contact immediately.
Something rustled to the right. He tensed, scanning. A young doe stepped from the underbrush, big eyes calm. It dipped its head toward Cora, then trotted off.
Cora’s smile softened. “Your forest is sweet today.”
“Forest is never sweet,” he grumbled.
“Maybe it mirrors who walks through it,” she replied, gaze flicking toward him.
He swallowed hard. Before he could answer, they reached the clearing by Hollow Creek. Water shimmered between mossy banks. At the edge of the grass, another rune stone stood, taller than the first, lines etched deep and old. He frowned, stepping closer. The symbol at its center matched the one from the quarry: claw for claim.
Cora slowed beside him, hum dying on her lips. “That wasn’t here before, was it.”
“No.” He crouched, fingertips brushing the stone. Cold bled into his skin, and a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. “Fresh carving. Whoever is messing with the Veil is moving fast.”
Cora’s hand hovered inches from his shoulder, as if she wanted to offer comfort but hesitated. “Feel anything else?”
He closed his eyes, sensing. A thread of possessive magic coiled through the rune, faint yet unmistakable. It tugged at his lion, pricking territorial instincts. He jerked his hand away and stood.
“Same energy as the Binding Stone,” he said. “Meaning someone dragged it nearer.”
Her face paled. “Why drag it closer to town?”
“To weaken the Veil or tempt someone who carries compatible magic.” He met her gaze. “That thought puts my hackles up.”
She hugged her arms, voice low. “Whoever set this intends to feed on something dark.”
A flicker of dread crossed her face, but she said nothing more.
He caught the unease but chose not to press. “We’ll stop them.”
She managed a tight nod.
