Page 40 of Love At First Roar
“You are when it comes to letting someone love you,” she said without heat. “Stop punishing the world for what you lost.”
Outside, the sun had crested over the pines. Morning birds sang in the distance. The scent of fresh bread floated from the bakery across the square, and his boots crunched over early dew.
He didn’t go to patrol. He didn’t head for the council glade. His feet found the trail to her cottage without asking.
Still, he stayed in the tree line when he saw her.
Cora knelt near the herb beds, fingers covered in soil, hair braided messily over one shoulder. She laughed at something one of the birds seemed to have said, her head thrown back, voice bright as their song. The breeze picked up, and the flowers near her gate seemed to sway toward her.
The scent of lilac hit him like a memory. His lion sat down inside him. Not pacing. Not growling. Just waiting.
Callum knew the truth even if he couldn’t say it yet.
She wasn’t temporary.
21
CORA
The raven landed just past the herb garden.
It flapped down in a flurry of sleek black feathers, perching on the post of her fence like it owned the damn place. Cora blinked up at it from where she knelt beside a patch of catmint, dirt smeared on her hands and a bundle of drying sage tucked in her apron.
The bird cocked its head. Its eyes were too dark, too knowing.
Her stomach dropped.
Then it opened its beak and let the parchment fall.
It fluttered once, landing between the thyme and the tips of her boots. Her breath caught. She didn’t need to touch it to know. Blood stained the edges, sharp and cruel against the tan paper. It bloomed in one corner like an inkblot from something ugly.
The raven cawed once and lifted off, vanishing into the trees before she could so much as swear at it.
Her heart thudded, ears rushing.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at the parchment while the breeze tugged at the hem of her skirt and the leaves rustled like gossip overhead.
She knew that handwriting. The blood wasn’t necessary. He was here.
“Elric,” she whispered, and bile clawed up the back of her throat.
Eventually, she forced herself to pick up the parchment. Her fingers trembled, but her hands were steady enough to unfold it. The letters were slashed across the page in thick strokes, each one pressed hard into the fibers like he’d tried to scar the paper.
“Mine”
No signature. No need.
She shoved the note into the pouch on her hip and stood, legs stiff from kneeling too long. Her magic stirred, humming beneath her skin like it always did when it caught Elric’s scent. It was subtle, quiet as a knife slipping between ribs. But it was there. That old thread he’d tied around her with blood and lies. No matter how far she ran, he always knew when she was afraid.
Not this time.
She wouldn’t let him poison this place.
She brushed her hands on her apron and forced her feet to move. The soil around her herbs had gone brittle. She reached for her watering can with shaking fingers, lips pressed tight. She would finish the damn chore. She would pretend she hadn’t just felt her ribs crack under the weight of one sentence.
Because if she ran to Callum now, he’d read the truth in her face.
He knew about Elric. He knew she’d been bound, that she’d broken away, and that something old and dangerous might be waking in Hollow Oak. That was enough. He didn’t need this. Not after that kiss. Not after what he’d said.
