Page 62 of Love At First Roar
Inside the dome, Cora pushed shakily upright. “Callum, back down,” she rasped. “Please. Go.”
He didn’t move.
“Back down!” Her voice rose, cracking under strain. Tears streaked her cheeks. Gold sparks flared at her fingertips again, brighter than before, fighting through the red. The cuffs blazed scarlet in response, tightening like snakes. She screamed.
Callum’s body jerked toward the barrier, instinct overriding thought. He collided with the wall, pain scoring his chest, but he braced there, hands pressed against the hot pulse, eyes locked on hers.
And that was when Elric turned, strolling to Cora’s side with a leisurely grace, dagger spinning between elegant fingers.
“Let me show you how much control over her I have,” he said, voice silky with cruelty. He raised the blade, touched it to her throat. Blood welled, a single drop sliding down pale skin.
Callum’s roar thundered through the glade, the sound of a heart breaking in real time, even as the warlock smiled, cold and triumphant.
33
CORA
The dagger’s kiss burned.
A single drop slipped from the shallow cut at her throat and slid down to pool in the hollow above her collarbone. The iron scent mixed with the altar’s heat, turning the air thick as midsummer honey. Cora tried to steady her breathing, to stay upright, but the crimson cuffs dug into her wrists, siphoning every pulse of her power into the relic behind her. Her legs trembled.
Across the barrier Callum pressed both palms to the wall of red light. His chest heaved, eyes wild with fury and heartbreak. The moment the knife touched her skin he went silent, like grief stole every sound he might make. Now he seemed to breathe only through clenched teeth.
Elric’s smooth voice carried, each word sharpened for cruelty. “Your council pawns will not save you. They walk in circles of my design. The Cut bends to my will.”
Cora felt the earth shudder as he spoke. Somewhere beyond the white trees the wind shifted, returning on itself like a lost traveler. She pictured Maeve and Edgar smashing through brush that only regrew behind them, trails looping back to their steps.
Callum’s focus never left her, not even to glare at Elric. “Look at me, Cora.” His voice came low and fierce. “Stay with me.”
She turned her face toward him. The barrier wavered between them, warping his features, yet the intensity in his eyes cut through every distortion. He saw her. Not the blood or the chain or the trembling fear. He saw the woman who laughed in the tavern lanternlight, who coaxed flowers to lean toward her song, who slipped into his bed and called it home. For a heartbeat she forgot the cuffs. She sank into the memory of last night’s hush, of his hand on her heart, of belonging.
Her magic flickered gold again—a tiny spark but real.
Elric clicked his tongue. “Ah, but that will not do.” He pressed the blade flat over the brand new cut and whispered in the language of binding.
Pain erupted. The cuffs flared scarlet, tightening until her breath came in ragged gasps. Gold sparks winked out, swallowed by red.
Inside her mind she felt the old chain reforge link by link, cold metal biting soul instead of skin. Memories flared: the ritual circle, his blood on hers, the way her magic had screamed but obeyed. She tasted fear, copper and ash.
“No,” she whispered. “I am not yours.”
“Yet you kneel in my circle,” Elric answered. “And your blood answers when I call.”
Cora’s knees hit the moss. She willed herself to stand, but the bond was a stone tower inside her chest, tall and unyielding. Across the barrier Callum slammed a fist against the wall. Lightning snapped across his knuckles. He did not flinch.
“Let her go,” he roared. “Fight me instead.”
Elric laughed, amused. “Why trade the gem for the gravel? She is the conduit. You are the lesson.”
He extended one hand, palm outward. The dome brightened to near white. Heat rolled over Cora’s skin, searing petalsof agony rolling down her arms. She cried out—short, sharp. Callum mirrored the sound, voice breaking like a branch ripped from trunk.
“Look at me,” he begged again. “I need you to see yourself the way I see you. You are stronger than this. Stronger than him.Weare stronger than this.”
The words cut through haze. She forced her chin up. Their gazes locked.
In his eyes she saw the version of herself he believed in. Not the hunted fae with a curse threaded through her veins, but the enchantress who whispered to seedling vines and coaxed wild wards to purr. She saw the woman who dared to love a solitary lion and make him laugh.
Tears spilled. Not from pain but from the sudden surge of courage that pushed against the chain. She clenched her jaw, tested her hands. The cuffs burned yet a crack formed in the red glow, thin as spider silk.
