Page 55 of A Roar for Magic

Clover couldn’t help but smile at their bickering. Her familiar and her mate—and oh, that thought still sent butterflies through her stomach—had apparently developed quite the rapport during her recovery.

A knock interrupted her musings. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard voices.” Sabine poked her head in, beaming when she saw Clover awake. “Finally! Maybe now we can get this stubborn tiger to actually rest.”

“I’m fine,” Rook protested.

“Sure you are.” Sabine rolled her eyes. “That’s why you’ve been surviving on coffee and worry for two days straight.”

Warmth bloomed in Clover’s chest. She squeezed Rook’s hand. “You really didn’t have to stay the whole time.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Yes, I did.”

The intensity in his voice made her breath catch. His tiger energy wrapped around her protectively, and she felt the echo of his fear—the terrifying moments when he’d thought he might lose her.

“Well, now that sleeping beauty’s awake,” Sabine said, “you should know we have a situation brewing. Hudson’s called a pride meeting for tonight.”

Rook tensed. “What’s he planning?”

“To present his ‘revolutionary new formula’ to the elders.” Sabine’s disgust was evident. “He’s been strutting around like a peacock, claiming it will ‘restore the pride’s glory’ or some nonsense.”

“He thinks I’m still unconscious,” Clover realized.

“And we’re going to let him keep thinking that.” Rook’s voice held a dangerous edge. “Let him walk right into his own trap.”

“Ooh, devious.” Poe cackled. “I like it. Nothing better than watching a pompous windbag get his comeuppance.”

“You need to eat first,” Sabine insisted. “Both of you. Romi sent over her special restoration soup—guaranteed to put color back in your cheeks and fire in your magic.”

As if on cue, Clover’s stomach growled. Rook immediately reached for the covered bowl on the nightstand, steam rising as he removed the lid. The rich aroma of herbs and spices made her mouth water.

“I can feed myself,” she protested when he picked up the spoon.

“Humor me.” His voice was gruff but his hands were impossibly gentle as he offered her the first spoonful. “I need to do something useful after...” He swallowed hard. “After feeling so helpless while you were healing.”

Oh. The vulnerability in his admission melted her resistance. She accepted the bite, savoring both the soup’s warmth and thetender care in Rook’s actions. Each spoonful was offered with the same focused attention he gave everything important in his life.

“You know,” she said between bites, “for someone with such a fearsome reputation, you’re actually quite sweet.”

“Slander and lies.” But his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I have a ruthless image to maintain.”

“Mm-hmm. Tell that to the tiger who spent two days straight watching over me and death-glaring anyone who might disturb my rest.”

“That was purely strategic,” he insisted. “Can’t have my best magical consultant out of commission.”

“Magical consultant,” Poe snickered.

Sabine watched their exchange with obvious delight. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. And I’ll make sure everything’s ready for tonight.” She fixed Rook with a stern look. “Make sure she rests until then. No getting her worked up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rook’s mock salute made his sister huff.

After Sabine left, Clover focused on finishing her soup, conscious of Rook’s watchful gaze. His relief at her recovery was palpable, threading through their strengthening bond like golden sunshine.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For staying with me.”

His free hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin with infinite care. “Where else would I be?”

THIRTY-FOUR

The simple truth in those words touched something deep in her soul. This powerful man, this fierce alpha, had spent days at her bedside, letting his vulnerability show because she needed him. Because they needed each other.

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