Page 36

CALLUM

C allum didn’t stop walking until the rooftops of Hollow Oak appeared through the trees, dusky in the light of a rising sun. His arms ached from holding her, his back burned from Elric’s magic, and every part of him felt rung out and raw. But his grip never faltered.

Cora was light in his hold, her limbs limp from the fight.

She stayed half-awake, murmuring softly now and then, barely more than breath.

The trail back from the glade had felt longer than it ever had—like the forest stretched itself to give them quiet, a last bit of grace after what they'd just survived.

His cabin stood against the treeline, squat and sturdy, a silhouette of home. Smoke still drifted from the chimney, faint and curling. He crossed the porch and shouldered the door open, stepping into warmth and shadow.

Cora stirred slightly as he set her down on the bed, tucking a blanket over her before reaching for the kettle on the hearth.

He filled it without thinking, muscles moving from instinct, too full of emotion to sit still just yet.

The fire cracked back to life, and he poured two mugs of water before remembering she was already half asleep again.

When he turned back, she was watching him.

Her voice came rough and low. “You came back for me.”

He crossed to her, sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t ever run from me again.”

She nodded, eyes glassy. “I thought I had to.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But you don’t.”

Her lip trembled. “You could’ve died.”

“So could you.”

They sat in silence for a long beat. The fire popped in the hearth. Outside, birds started calling to each other from the eaves like the forest was exhaling with them.

She spoke again, barely above a whisper. “When you said I was your mate… did you mean it?”

He looked at her then, really looked. At the bruises under her eyes and the soft curl of her fingers where they gripped the blanket, as if afraid to let go. Her green eyes held no illusions. She was asking not just for answers—but for truth.

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “But not just because I’m a lion.”

She blinked slowly. “Because you chose it.”

“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.