Page 64 of Love At First Roar
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CALLUM
Cora lay motionless on the moss, skin pale against the scarlet glow that bled from the altar. Her head lolled to one side and a ribbon of blood traced the line of her throat where Elric’s knife had lingered. She looked heartbreakingly still, like a painting of a woman who had never learned to breathe.
Callum’s soul cracked.
His lion roared inside, furious and terrified, but rage would not break chains carved into spirit. He shifted back to human form, knees striking damp earth beside the flickering half-wall of red light. His palms pressed the barrier. Static bit the flesh, burn marks opening fresh, yet he barely felt pain.
“Cora, listen to me,” he said, voice raw. “I need you to hear my words. Hear me.”
The altar pulsed. Elric stood just beyond, cloak flared like bruised wings, watching with dark fascination. The warlock said nothing, as if curious which would crumble first, spell or heart.
Callum shut his eyes a moment, drew a breath thick with blood and pine. If magic fed on intent, he would feed Cora everything he had left.
He opened his mouth and recited the first poem he ever risked writing after Tessa’s death, the one he had never shown a soul.
I keep watch through storms
though beasts may prowl my dreams
yet dawn is worth the wounds
if it finds me still standing
to see her lift her face to light
Just one more time.
His voice shook like a sapling in wind, but he did not stop.
“Cora Thorne, you are that dawn. You are every sunrise this forest forgot it could hold.”
The cuff fragments at her wrists shimmered, thin gold flickers sparking along the broken edges.
He pressed on, words tumbling faster, desperate.
“You are the way Moonmirror breathes when the sun sets. You are the laugh that turns Twyla’s tea sweet before sugar hits the cup. You are stubborn hope when the Veil frays at the seams, and kindness when my own skin feels too tight.”
The barrier flickered. A whine threaded its hum. Elric’s brow creased.
“This is not fate talking,” Callum said, louder now. “I’ve ignored my lion and telling you things that I thought could hurt us, but really, it makes us stronger. Cora, my lion sees you. I see you. As my fated mate.”
More gold began to flicker.
“This is not fate talking though,” Callum said, louder now. “My lion might call you mate, but I choose you. Choice is stronger than prophecy. I choose you because you name each herb like a secret. Because you apologize to broom bristles you enchant too lively. Because you walked into my woods with nothing but courage and a suitcase full of broken pieces and still offered to mend my heart.”
The barrier flashed, then dimmed, as if the altar itself hesitated.
Callum’s hand slid to the soil beneath the barrier. He dug his fingers into the moss, grounding his next words.
“I love you, Cora. I love you for the way you lean into joy even when fear nips your heels. For the songs you hum out of tune. For the quiet forgiveness in your eyes each time I push you away and you choose to step closer instead.”
A tremor rippled across the glade. The white trees rustled though no wind stirred. Gold sparks flared brighter along Cora’s wrists, climbing the length of her arms like sunrise up the sky.
Elric’s voice slithered between them. “She cannot hear you, beast. Blood claims drown out love songs.”
Callum ignored him.
