Page 45 of Love At First Roar
She came to on the forest floor, face cold and slick with tears, breath punching in and out like she’d run for miles. Her body shook. Her magic flickered out of control, sparking at her fingertips.
Callum knelt beside her, one hand on her shoulder, the other braced on his thigh. His face was pale, eyes wide, voice tight. “Talk to me.”
She blinked up at him, then choked on a sob. “He was here. I saw him. Not just in my head—he washere.”
Callum’s jaw clenched. “Elric?”
She nodded.
“I couldn’t reach you. You went quiet. Your body hit the ground like you’d been struck.”
Cora sat up slowly, every inch of her aching. “The vision, it wasn’t just a warning. It was a memory. He’s getting stronger. He showed me… things he’s planning. The Veil isn’t just leaking. He’s trying to pull me into it.”
“Then we fight harder.”
She looked at him, lips trembling. “There were chains. Red veils. The altar was wide open.”
His hand curled into a fist against his thigh. “What else?”
“I saw you,” she whispered. “In the vision. You came for me. And Elric—he knew you.”
Callum's mouth tightened. “I don’t care what he knows. He won’t reach you.”
Her voice cracked. “I’m scared.”
He didn’t answer right away. He just stared at her, eyes burning like coals, his own jaw ticking like he was holding back the urge to shift right there.
But he didn’t touch her.
He didn’t pull her in.
Instead, he stood slowly and reached down. “Come on. We’re getting you home.”
Cora took his hand, let him pull her to her feet. Her knees buckled, but she found her balance. Together, they left the glade behind.
The altar stayed quiet. But the Veil still pulsed. And her pulse answered.
She didn’t know what came next. She only knew she wasn’t running again.
Not this time.
24
CALLUM
Callum didn’t like how light she felt in his arms.
Cora hadn’t passed out again, but she was pale as snow and silent as stone, her head tipped against his shoulder as he carried her through the trees. Her magic hummed low, erratic, sparking faintly along his arm like it didn’t know whether to lash or beg for help.
She clutched his shirt with trembling fingers, and even that simple grip lit a fire under his skin. He tried to ignore it. Focus on the path. On her breath, which stayed shallow but steady. On the warmth of her skin seeping into him like sun through stone.
“You should’ve told me it was gonna hit that hard,” he muttered.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. Her voice was thin, like paper left out in the rain. “Felt different this time.”
His jaw tightened. The clearing was already far behind, the trees shifting wider as the trail turned toward his cabin. The forest stayed quiet, like it was holding its breath too.
When he pushed open his door, the scent of pine, ash, and clove rushed to greet them. He carried her straight to the sofa, setting her down like she might break in half if he moved toofast. She curled up slowly, blanket already tucked against the side where he’d crashed a dozen times after patrol.
