Page 36 of Love At First Roar
Relief hit her in waves. She nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Her eyes narrowed, the fire returning. “And you’ll stop snapping like a cornered fox every time I breathe too loud?”
“Doubtful,” he said, mouth twitching. “But I’ll try.”
They spent the next hour on the cabin floor. He laid out a chalk circle near the hearth, showed her how to sit inside it, spine straight, palms up. He guided her through breathwork—three counts in, hold, five counts out—over and over until her shoulders relaxed.
“Feel the ground under you,” he murmured. “Let it hold your weight. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”
She peeked at him. “You talk like someone who’s done this a few times.”
“I’ve had a lot to ground.”
Her smile was small, but real.
Later, he walked her to the glen near her cottage, just as the sun pushed over the ridge, painting the trees gold. The air held the promise of a warm day, but dew still kissed the tips of every leaf.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.
She nodded, pulling her cloak tight. “I’m not alone anymore.”
He grunted. “No, you’re not.”
They stood there, facing each other, neither quite ready to turn away.
“Thanks, Callum,” she said, stepping toward the path. “For not turning me away.”
He watched her go, hair catching the sunrise, shoulders straighter than when she’d arrived. “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered, voice too low for her to hear. “I’m still figuring out how to protect you without losing my damn mind.”
The wind whispered through the trees. His lion prowled just beneath the surface, restless and ready. But for now, Callum let the forest return to its morning quiet and followed the path back, already planning the next lesson.
19
CORA
Cora never imagined she'd become familiar with the rhythm of Veil training. But a week in, she could track shifts in energy like a heartbeat and read her own magic’s pulse with the kind of instinct she once thought was beyond her.
She still fumbled. She still lit things on fire. And today? She'd nearly singed the broad shoulder of the town’s most grumpy and intimidating ranger.
“Hold still,” she said softly.
Callum sat shirtless on the low bench near her hearth, brow furrowed, shoulder bare and red where a spark from her projection spell had scorched him. His skin, usually that sun-kissed golden brown, looked raw around the edges, the burn angry and a little swollen. His jaw ticked when she dabbed the salve, but he didn’t complain.
Not that he ever did. He just got quieter.
“I said I was sorry,” she added, glancing up through her lashes.
“You did,” he grumbled.
“I also brought you that pie from Miriam's pantry as a peace offering.”
He let out a low exhale. “The one with the cardamom crust?”
“That’s the one.”
A beat passed, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re lucky I like pie.”
