Page 33 of Love At First Roar
After a few minutes she spoke. “Does walking the same trail every day get dull?”
He shook his head. “The forest changes. Paths twist overnight, springs appear, owls trade roosts. You learn to notice small shifts.”
“Like a lake deciding to toss us in.”
“That was new.” His lips twitched. “I prefer less dramatic introductions.”
Cora laughed, twirling a wet braid. “It certainly woke me up.”
They reached a bend where fireflies bobbed above fern fronds, gold lights swaying like tiny lanterns. The glow kissed her cheeks, and he caught himself staring. She turned, caught the look, and flushed. He jerked his attention forward, heat pricking his ears.
Soon the small stone cottage came into view, windows glowing amber behind lace curtains. A single lantern hung onthe post, carved with oak leaves and tiny acorns. He slowed at the gate.
“Home,” he announced, voice lower than intended.
She faced him, tugging the blanket tighter over her shoulders. Rain-dark lashes framed eyes the color of deep leaves after storm. “Thank you, Callum. Not just for the escort.” She hesitated. “For the poem, too.”
He shifted, uncomfortable yet pleased. “How about we don’t mention it again.”
Her smile said she would treasure it instead. She stepped back toward her door. “Coffee tomorrow?”
“Duty calls at dawn,” he answered. “If the lake behaves, perhaps.”
“I’ll hold it to that.”
She lifted a hand in farewell and slipped inside. Warm light spilled onto the step then vanished as the door clicked shut. Callum remained at the gate, listening until he heard the latch slide and curtains rustle. Only then did he turn toward the dark trail.
Rain had stopped, leaving the forest breathing softly. His lion prowled content, surprisingly calm after an evening spent beside her. The word mate tried to surface again, but he pushed it down. Not yet. Protect first. Everything else later.
He headed back toward the cabin, night sounds wrapping around him like a cloak. Somewhere ahead an owl hooted, echoing into the trees. He answered with a low whistle, the old ranger signal that all was well.
For now, at least, Hollow Oak slept safe. And despite himself, Callum let the memory of her praise ride with him through the dark, warming the parts of him he thought had frozen forever.
17
CORA
Moonlight slipped through the lace curtains like spilled cream, sketching pale patterns over Cora’s quilt. She lay on her side, eyes half-lidded, still breathing the lingering scent of pine and hearth smoke clinging to Callum’s shirt. The cottage felt gentler tonight, as if every beam remembered the warmth of his coffee and low laugh. Comfort pulled her toward sleep even while nerves buzzed under her skin.
She drifted.
Wind whispered across her thoughts, tugging her somewhere between waking and dream. The bed vanished. Cool night wrapped around her, damp and mossy. She stood barefoot in a stretch of forest she didn’t know, trees hunched close like eavesdroppers. Fog crawled along the ground, parting to reveal a stone altar rising from tangled roots.
The slab looked ancient, carved with curling runes she recognized from the quarry yet deeper, angrier. A jagged crack split the center. Through it pulsed red light, slow and rhythmic, like a giant heart beating just below the surface.
Cora’s breath caught in her throat. She took a step back, but the forest behind her shifted, trees leaning in to block escape. The altar beckoned, heat rolling off it in waves that smelled of singed cedar and iron.
Cora.
The voice slithered from the crack, soft as silk but heavy with hunger. Her name stretched, echoing around her skull. Her feet moved despite herself, carrying her closer.
Elric.
The second name hissed like a struck match, leaving the acrid taste of blood magic in the air. Fear knifed through her belly. She wrapped her arms around her middle, nails digging into her own skin.
“No,” she whispered. “You don’t own me.”
The altar thrummed harder. The crack widened, fissures branching like black lightning. From the broken stone, red mist seeped out, swirling into shapes—chains coiling, hands reaching. She smelled the spicy resin Elric favored, saw the gleam of his cold smile overlay the rock face.
