Page 43 of Love At First Roar
Callum sat opposite, elbows on knees. “Tell me everything about this binding. No pieces missing.”
She spoke then, voice steady though her hands shook. About meeting Elric, the tutelage that turned to obsession, the ritual circle lined with nightshade and silver, his knife slicing her palm so their blood mingled while he whispered chains into existence. She told how she’d snapped the circle with raw panic, how the backlash scorched her magic and freed her body but left a thread inside her, one Elric could tug across distance.
When she finished the room felt thinner, air stretched tight. Callum’s hands had fisted against his thighs without noticing. He forced them loose.
“You should have told me this the night you warned the council,” he said. No anger, only grit. “All of it.”
“I tried.” She met his gaze. “But you were already carrying so much. And after the… kiss… I didn’t want to lean on you for every rescue.”
His pulse kicked at the memory. Lilac and fire. “You think I’m worried about being leaned on?”
“You pulled away.” Her smile held no humor. “I assumed that was the message.”
He looked down, shame scraping. He had pulled away, shoved her at arm’s length then snarled when she didn’t trust his reach.
Silence stretched. Fire popped in the grate. Outside, rain started again, light at first then heavier, drumming on the roof.
He stood, crossed to the window. The forest blurred behind sheets of water. “I made you think you couldn’t count on me. That ends now.”
She rose too, slower. “What does that mean?”
He turned. Resolve settled like armor. “We plan. We find the relic. We end his claim.” His voice dropped, threat and promise mingling. “No raven, no warlock touches this town or you.”
Her lower lip trembled once then went stubborn. “You can’t guard me every second.”
“Watch me.”
Soft disbelief flickered in her eyes, chased by reluctant hope. “You’ll need help.”
“I’ll take Maeve and Twyla. Edgar for ward work. Varric if he’ll leave the Glade.”
She nodded, coming closer until only a mug length separated them. “Callum?—”
He held up a hand, palm toward her. Not rejecting, just bracing. “We fix this first. Then we talk about… other things.”
She exhaled shaky laughter. “Always the ranger.”
“Always.” Yet his thumb brushed her wrist, a spark of something that felt like promise.
He dropped his hand, pushed past the knot in his throat, and moved toward the door. Outside, rain hammered hard, obscuring the path. He stepped through it anyway. The forest waited, restless and ready.
Thunder rumbled over Hollow Oak while the ranger plotted war.
23
CORA
The sky hovered in that in-between place, not quite morning, not quite storm. A heavy fog clung to the forest floor like breath held too long. Cora adjusted the satchel on her shoulder, fingers tracing the rune charm Miriam had slipped into her palm before she left.
“Just in case,” Miriam had said, squeezing her hand. “For grounding. If the magic grabs you again.”
The charm pulsed against her skin now, warm and steady, but nothing about her heart felt settled.
Callum stood just ahead on the trail, arms crossed, golden skin muted in the dim light. His broad back was stiff with tension, muscles coiled tight beneath a dark shirt. He didn’t speak, but his presence anchored her, even if he was clearly holding more than his weight. The wind hadn’t touched him, yet his jaw was clenched like he’d taken the first punch already.
“You good?” he asked without looking back.
She nodded, though her throat felt too tight to answer right away. “Yeah. I’m good.”
