Page 24

CALLUM

C allum didn’t like how light she felt in his arms.

Cora hadn’t passed out again, but she was pale as snow and silent as stone, her head tipped against his shoulder as he carried her through the trees. Her magic hummed low, erratic, sparking faintly along his arm like it didn’t know whether to lash or beg for help.

She clutched his shirt with trembling fingers, and even that simple grip lit a fire under his skin. He tried to ignore it. Focus on the path. On her breath, which stayed shallow but steady. On the warmth of her skin seeping into him like sun through stone.

“You should’ve told me it was gonna hit that hard,” he muttered.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. Her voice was thin, like paper left out in the rain. “Felt different this time.”

His jaw tightened. The clearing was already far behind, the trees shifting wider as the trail turned toward his cabin. The forest stayed quiet, like it was holding its breath too.

When he pushed open his door, the scent of pine, ash, and clove rushed to greet them. He carried her straight to the sofa, setting her down like she might break in half if he moved too fast. She curled up slowly, blanket already tucked against the side where he’d crashed a dozen times after patrol.

“You’re gonna lie there,” he said gruffly, “and rest. No magic. No movement. No more visions for the day, got it?”

Her lips curled faintly. “Yes, Captain Cross.”

He turned away too quick, pretending he didn’t hear how soft that made his name sound.

He moved around the cabin, stoking the fire, heating the kettle. The kettle had no idea it was the only damn thing in the room not driving him crazy.

Cora’s voice cut through the quiet, rougher now. “You’re mad.”

He didn’t answer.

“You don’t get to storm in and be pissed at me for something I didn’t plan.”

Callum turned slowly. She sat up straighter now, cheeks pinking like the spark was coming back.

“You don’t get to act like you’re the only one who carries weight,” she said. “I’ve been carrying mine a long time.”

He crossed his arms. “And look how well that’s gone.”

She flinched. His stomach sank.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Shit. That came out wrong.”

“No, it didn’t,” she said, pulling the blanket tighter. “It came out true.”

“Cora—”

“I’ve always been on my own, Callum. Before Hollow Oak. Before Elric. Even when I wasn’t physically alone, I was still… apart. Never trusted anyone with my mess. Never thought they’d stay.”

He stepped closer, crouching down in front of her so they were eye level.

“I’m still here.”

“That’s not the same as saying you’ll stay.”

The words hit somewhere deep. And hard. He’d been pushing her away since the second she got under his skin. He’d told himself it was about protecting her, about protecting the town. But really, it had been about not letting himself fall again.

He ran a thumb along his jaw, studying her. “You wanna know something real?”

She nodded.

“I’m a hypocrite.” His voice dropped, rough and honest. “I told you not to keep secrets. I threw a fit when I found out about Elric, about the relic. But I’ve been keeping shit locked down since the day Tessa died.

Because the second I let it out, I stop being useful.

And I don’t know who I am without that.”

Her eyes softened, and gods, that was worse than her fury. Her magic pulsed again, subtle and golden, reaching toward him even without her meaning to.

“You are not just a ranger,” she said.

“And you’re not a curse,” he shot back.

The air between them turned thick.

He reached up, hand settling against her cheek, thumb grazing the line of her jaw. She leaned in slowly, like waiting for him to pull away again.

He didn’t.

The kiss was slow. Intense. Not soft like their last one. This was want, clear and raw. His hand moved into her hair, tugging her closer, and she pressed into him with a sigh that damn near undid him.

He shifted, pressing her back into the sofa cushions, careful but needy. Her fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, nails scraping skin. His mouth moved over hers like it had been waiting. Like it already knew the rhythm.

Her legs brushed his thigh, heat blooming everywhere their bodies met. His lion roared approval, clawing at his chest. She gasped his name into his mouth, and he drank it in, barely holding himself back.

But something pulled at him, deep and sharp.

He broke the kiss.

Cora blinked up at him, lips parted, breath heavy. “Callum…”

“You don’t want this,” he whispered again, forehead resting against hers.

“I do,” she whispered back. “That’s the problem.”

He closed his eyes.

They stayed tangled like that, lips swollen, breath uneven, wanting more but knowing better.

After a moment, he sat back, rubbing a hand over his face like that’d erase the taste of her from his mouth. It didn’t.

She touched his hand. Just once.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said.

He nodded, still catching his breath. “But not tonight.”

She stood slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. He walked her back under the hush of twilight, their hands brushing once but not twining. Not yet.

Not yet.

The scent of lilacs followed him long after she shut her door.