Page 12 of Conall (The Sunburst Pack #3)

C ONALL WOKE TO THE taste of metal and regret.

His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, his head pounding with the aftermath of whatever cocktail they’d hit him with.

Different from the Chimera tranks though. This one left a harsh aftertaste and a persistent ringing in his ears—like someone had taken a bell tower and stuffed it inside his skull.

Blinking as if he could will away his drug hangover, he glanced around.

Concrete walls pressed in on him. No windows. A single bare bulb cast harsh shadows across what was clearly a holding cell.

The air smelled of dust and old fear.

How many others had been kept here? The thought sent ice racing through his veins.

And there, slumped against the opposite wall, was Nadine.

Even unconscious, even with her hair disheveled and dirt streaking her face, she was breathtaking. His wolf practically purred beneath his skin, recognizing home in her presence.

Inappropriate timing, asshole , he told his inner animal.

But god, she was beautiful.

The harsh light caught the silver scar below her collarbone. Her lips were slightly parted in unconsciousness, and he found himself remembering the rasp of her voice when she’d breathed his name.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She thought he was a murderer, had accused him and Quinton of killing her father. And here he was, cataloging the elegant line of her throat like some lovesick teenager.

Their still-developing mate bond didn’t care about logic. It pulsed through him, warm and insistent, whispering things he didn’t want to hear.

Protect. Claim .

Keep safe .

Her eyes fluttered open as he watched, focusing on him with startling clarity for someone who should still be drugged senseless.

Where are we? she asked, voice rough but alert.

Too alert .

Don’t know. Conall tested his limbs one by one. Everything worked, though there was a persistent ache in his shoulder where the dart had hit. How long were we out?

Hard to say. A few hours, maybe? She sat up slowly, wincing as the movement pulled at something. That slight favor in her left leg he’d noticed before—a silver wound from the bullet he suspected she’d taken, maybe.

His protective instincts flared again, making his hands clench into fists.

He wanted to ask if she was okay. Wanted to check her injuries, offer comfort. The impulse was so strong it physically hurt to suppress it.

Instead, he said, You’re handling the aftereffects better than I would have expected.

Hm. She tested her own limbs.

Thanks for the counteragent, he added. Again.

Something flickered across her face. Surprise? Confusion? I didn’t give you anything this time.

That stopped him cold.

If she hadn’t administered a counteragent, why was he coherent so quickly? His mind raced through possibilities, none of them good.

Not the twin bond—if that was the case, Nadine wouldn’t be awake.

Enhanced metabolism from the mate bond? Some kind of immunity building up from repeated exposure? Or something far worse—had their captors wanted them awake?

The worry crawling up his spine intensified. This felt like a setup. Like a trap within a trap.

Who were they? he asked, pushing the worry aside for now.

Not Chimera. She tested her injured leg, face carefully blank. Professional assessment mode—he recognized it from his own training. Different equipment. Different tactics. Professional, but not military.

Corporate?

Maybe. Or private contractors. Her gaze sharpened, focusing on him with uncomfortable intensity, seeming to see straight through him, past all his defenses. How did you find me?

How could he explain that he’d followed the mate bond like a compass? That every cell in his body had been screaming her location for days? That leaving Quinton behind—betraying their lifelong partnership—had felt inevitable once his need for Nadine became too strong to resist?

Lucky guess, he lied.

Her laugh was cracked, brittle. Right. And I suppose it’s just coincidence that you showed up exactly where I was hiding.

Heat crawled up his neck. She was right, of course.

The mate bond had led him straight to her like a bloodhound following a scent trail.

But admitting that meant admitting how completely the connection had compromised his judgment.

How it had driven him to abandon everything he’d believed about himself.

Look, we can argue about this later. Right now we need to focus on getting out of here.

We? Her voice dropped to a dangerous purr that sent a jolt straight to his groin despite everything. There is no ‘we,’ Stewart. Just because we’re stuck in the same cell doesn’t make us allies.

The bond connecting him to her ached with frustrated longing.

She was three feet away—close enough to touch, close enough that her scent filled his lungs with every breath—and she might as well be on another planet. The distance between them felt like physical pain.

His wolf whimpered beneath his skin, confused by the rejection from what it recognized as their mate. The animal within didn’t understand human complications like murder accusations and family loyalty.

Mine. Ours. Why won’t she accept us?

Because she thinks you killed her father , Conall reminded himself grimly. Because she’s building a case against you and Quinton .

Because every instinct she has screams that you’re the enemy .

And yet she’d saved his life. Twice now.

Your father, he said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could stop them. I want to understand what happened to him.

She went very still. Predator-still. The kind of motionless that preceded either flight or attack. Why?

Because someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make you think we killed him. He leaned forward, letting sincerity bleed into his voice despite knowing it might be futile. Because I think we’re both being played.

The silence stretched between them. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her amber eyes—calculating, assessing, weighing options. She was deciding whether he was worth the risk of honesty.

When she didn’t speak, he took another tack. You protected me in that ravine four days ago. Led them away even though you think I killed your father. Why?

She was quiet for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer this question either. When she finally spoke, she turned her head away from him, and her voice was barely audible, cracked with something that might have been despair.

I don’t know.

Honesty. Finally. Raw, painful honesty that cost her as much as his words had cost him.

I think you do know, he said, every word chosen with surgical precision. Same reason I came looking for you tonight instead of reporting your location to my pack.

Her head snapped around, eyes wide with something like panic. Don’t.

But he couldn’t stop now. The mate bond. You feel it too.

No. But he could smell the spike of adrenaline that shot through her system.

Yes. He leaned back against the wall, giving her space while keeping his voice gentle. It’s not going away. For either of us.

The silence that followed was loaded with everything they weren’t saying. The impossible situation they’d been thrust into. The connection that defied logic and loyalty and every rational thought.

Inside him, his wolf paced restlessly, frustrated by the continued rejection.

But humans were complicated. Humans had grief and vengeance and family loyalty that transcended biological imperative.

It doesn’t matter. Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the strain of fighting against something so fundamental. You killed my father.

I didn’t. The words rang with absolute conviction, carrying the truth he’d stake his life on. Neither did Quinton.

Then who—

The sound of footsteps in the corridor cut her off. Multiple sets, moving with purpose. Heavy boots on concrete. Their captors, coming back for round two.

Conall met her gaze across the small cell, seeing his own tension reflected there.

Whatever they want, whatever they’re planning—we’re stronger together than apart, he said quietly.

I don’t trust you.

The words should have stung, should have made him angry. Instead, they just made him sad.

She was so determined to see him as the enemy.

You don’t have to trust me, he said quietly, holding her gaze as the footsteps grew closer. Trust the bond.