Page 68 of Love At First Roar
“Every part of it. You. Us. Not the bond. Not the magic. Just… you.”
Her breath caught.
“I love you,” he said again, steadier this time. “Not because a mate bond told me to. Not because the forest whispered it. I love you because you see through every wall I build and walk in anyway. Because you make things bloom with your voice. Because you hum even when you’re scared.”
She reached for him, her hand warm on his face. “And I love you,” she whispered. “Because you stay. Even when it hurts. Even when I’m a damn mess.”
“You’re my mess,” he murmured, letting her tug him down beside her.
They lay facing each other, her hands tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Her breathing started to slow, lips parting on a soft sigh.
He brushed his thumb along her cheek, memorizing the soft skin, the curve of her jaw, the way her magic smelled now that it wasn’t twisted by fear—bright, golden, fresh like new lilacs after rain.
“Callum?” she asked, voice sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“I still don’t know what comes next.”
“Then we figure it out together.”
She smiled, eyes closing. “Good.”
He held her tighter, her heartbeat thrumming against his chest like the surest song he’d ever known. For the first time in years, he didn’t brace for loss. He let himself feel the weight of peace, soft and full and earned.
And when she finally fell asleep, safe in his arms, Callum closed his eyes too, his chest full of love, his mind full of her.
He had chosen her.
And he'd do it again every damn time.
37
CORA
The Hearth & Hollow Inn had never smelled sweeter.
Cora padded across the creaky wood floors of the upstairs hallway, wrapped in one of Miriam’s thick knit cardigans and clutching a still-steaming mug of peppermint tea. Sunlight poured through the lace-curtained windows, soft and golden, and the scent of lemon and clove drifted up from the kitchen. Hollow Oak was healing, and so was she.
Her muscles ached. Her magic fluttered in odd bursts like a bird still remembering how to fly, but she was whole.
Alive.
And the Veil had sealed.
She paused at the window overlooking the square, watching the town stir to life. Rufus Tansley was already arranging glowing jars in front of the Hollow Mercantile. Twyla swept the café steps with an enchanted broom that was too chatty for its own good. Maeve stalked past them both, coffee in one hand, and flipping her dagger in the other, yelling at someone to fix the tavern’s lantern post “before the wind spirits finished it off.”
Cora smiled. It felt good to be part of it all now. Not a guest. Not a curse walking on borrowed time.
She sipped her tea and turned back toward her room. Her muscles sighing from the effort. Her green wrap dress had been traded for cozy leggings and a soft tunic, her hair braided loose and tucked over one shoulder. Miriam had insisted she rest here for a couple of days, and though Cora had protested at first, the truth was her body welcomed the peace. The cabin with Callum would wait.
Callum.
Her chest pulled tight with the thought of him. He’d left just after sunrise, his voice low with that ever-present rumble as he kissed her slow and told her he’d be back by dusk. The Veil needed walking. The trees needed listening. And so did the people.
“You’re not sleeping all day, are you?” a voice called from down the hall.
Cora turned as Twyla climbed the steps, arms full of something wrapped in velvet and grinning like she knew every secret the world had ever whispered.
