Page 61 of Love At First Roar
“You came without your council chorus,” the warlock called, voice smooth as poisoned honey. “Predictable.”
Callum’s claws punched through his fingertips. “Let her go.”
Elric chuckled. “You were more polite earlier. I suppose desperation breeds manners out of guards.” He lifted one hand, summoning a swirl of crimson sparks that danced across his palm. “Do you feel it, lion? The chain tightening each time you rage?”
Cora stirred, lifting her head. Her eyes met Callum’s across the barrier, full of terror and something fiercer: a warning. “Callum, no?—”
Her voice rasped like dry leaves. The sound drove a spike through his resolve. He advanced again, this time shifting midstride. Bone and sinew cracked, golden fur bursting forth, mass multiplying until the lion stood where the man had been. The barrier flared brighter, sensing his power.
He hurled himself against it. Red lightning lashed, digging into flesh, yet he pushed harder, claws raking the invisible wall. Pain sang through his nerves, but he welcomed it. Pain meant progress. Cora’s gasp echoed inside the dome, one part fear, one part hope.
Elric’s laughter cut through. “Brutish tactics. Do you really think raw force will unmake ritual? She chose me. Blood remembers.”
The lion roared, a sound that split bark and quivered stone. He leapt again, aiming for Elric’s mocking face, but the barrier threw him sideways like a rag doll. He crashed into a trunk, ribs protesting. He shifted back on instinct, kneeling in the debris, breath ragged.
“You talk a lot for someone hiding behind glass,” Callum spat, blood on his lips.
Elric’s smile thinned. “If I leave the circle, the tether weakens. Why would I grant you that advantage when you already flail so wonderfully?”
Callum’s vision blurred red. He surged up, slashing with extended claws where the barrier met the ground, searching for seams. The dome rippled though it held. Agony spiked through his arms, scent of charred fur filling the air, but he did not stop. Every heartbeat, he saw Tessa bleeding out, saw Cora pale inside the ring and the altar’s light dancing with her pain.
Elric’s voice sharpened. “Careful, beast. The Veil cracks further each time you strike. You might bring the whole forest down on her head.”
Callum stilled, panting. Sweat and soot coated his skin. He glared through the shimmer. Cora’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion dragging her toward unconsciousness. The gold sparks of her magic tried to rise again but fizzled under the red cuffs.
“Elric,” she whispered, voice shredded. “Please. Let them go. I will stay.”
Callum’s heart fractured at her surrender. “No. Cora, don’t?—”
She shook her head weakly. “He wants me. If that saves Hollow Oak… if it saves you?—”
“I do not need saving,” Callum snapped, voice raw. The admission tasted like blood: he had never needed to save himself before, because saving others was his penance. But Cora was not a penance. She was life.
Elric lifted his dagger, now coated in his own blood from carving sigils. He traced the tip across the air, red ember lines forming runic letters that floated until they latched onto the dome. The structure hardened, color deepening toward black.
“There,” he said, satisfied. “Now only my command may open or close this prison.”
Callum’s claws receded as hopelessness iced his veins. He forced steady breathing. Think. He had come alone, but Maeve and Edgar would follow. They needed minutes, he needed to stall.
“Why chain her if she has already accepted?” he asked, stalling for time.
Elric cocked his head. “Trust is wiser than rage, it is true. But scars guarantee obedience. And I enjoy insurance.” He flicked the dagger, red sparks floating to Cora’s cuffs. She winced.
Callum tasted iron from biting his tongue. He could not lose control. Not now. Losing control meant Elric won.
He took one step back, palms open. “Let’s talk.”
The warlock arched a brow. “You think words will unweave years of preparation?”
“I think you want an audience.” Callum’s heart slammed in his chest. “You pulled a raven stunt to deliver a simple threat. You want witness to your victory. Take me instead. Let her go, you still crack the Veil. The ranger of Hollow Oak at your mercy—that is a trophy.”
Cora shook her head, mouthing no, but he did not break eye contact with Elric.
The warlock considered, fingers drumming the hilt of his dagger. “Tempting. Yet she is the key, not you.”
The slow rustle of leaves behind Callum told him Maeve and Edgar were close. He could smell Twyla’s jasmine blend drifting on the wind. They needed seconds.
Time he did not have.
