Page 18 of Watch Me Burn (Sanctuary #1)

CHAPTER 17

REJECTION

O pen communication between potential romantic partners is a beautiful thing. I don’t have that much experience with it, granted, but things seemed to change for the better after Conall admitted what it seems like the whole stinking village knew: I’m his fated mate.

Even Elise admitted with a sheepish shrug that she figured as much. It was because of the way he couldn’t keep himself from following me around like a lovesick puppy dog, and how he had been leaving animal carcasses on our porch almost immediately after we came to stay.

She knew he was doing it. Just like I’ve figured out she’s getting as much blood out of the dead animals as she can to keep from getting too thirsty. I’m not sure why she’s keeping that a secret—and I’m guessing that she’s going hunting in the woods whenever I can’t find her in the village—but I do understand why she couldn’t tell me about her suspicions about Conall and me.

It’s a supe thing. Mates are precious, and they’re private. Until Conall made his move, she accepted it wasn’t her business. She did her best, teasing me if only to help me realize how I’ve been inexplicably drawn to the wolf from the stars, but other than that, it was up to the mates to work it out for themselves.

Which I would have no problem doing… if it wasn’t for the fact that, ever since I discovered I’m his mate, Conall has been avoiding me like I’m the plague.

No breakfasts at the canteen. No boot prints outside the back of the house as if he was out there, watching over me at night. He might be sneaking down to the cave without me, but we haven’t taken a trip out of Dyea together in days.

Trying not to look too eager, I stroll around the village, perfectly aware that the rest of the supes are wondering what’s going on with the ‘human’ and the leader of the pack—oh, I’m sorry. Security . I don’t see Conall anywhere, and I’m not so desperate that I bang on his door and demand for him to talk to me.

At least not at first.

On the third day of this nonsense, I bumped into Mayor Lou. The fact that I didn’t even notice his stink—blueberry today on top of skunk —is proof about how much the wolf has messed with my head, and before I think better of it, I asked the mayor if he borrowed Conall for something.

Conall told me that, whenever the village needed something from Skagway or one of the other local towns, he was the one who went on the trips; mainly because he’s the predator shifter, and the other shifters are too skittish to leave the town. That would make sense if he was busy doing his other duties—especially since I’ve been monopolizing most of his time for weeks now—but Mayor Lou just gave a quick glance toward the darkening sky, then apologized to me before admitting that Conall’s home sick.

Can shifters even get sick?

The mayor seems to think so. And though he tells me that Conall should be better by morning, that I should keep my distance until then, I’ve never been the type of chick to do what I’m told.

Which is why I’m standing outside of Conall’s house right now, holding some kind of mystery meat sandwich I bought at the canteen, waiting for him to answer me.

I don’t care how sick he is. The Conall I know would crawl to the door if only to find out what I’m doing on his territory.

He’s in there. I don’t know why I know for sure that he is, but I do, and I knock on the door again.

This is me making an effort, Mr. Grump. This is showing you that I can be a good mate, too.

Damn it. Open the door.

I rap my knuckles again, grateful that I don’t singe the wood by accidentally losing my control on my fire.

“Conall? It’s me.” Those butterflies in my belly make a giddy return as I call out his nickname for me. “It’s Red.”

Still no answer.

I really thought there would be. If just because he seems to get his kicks whenever I’d bristle a little about being ‘Red’ instead of ‘Bridget’ in the beginning, I figured that would get him to open the door.

Beyond it, I swear I hear something. Or maybe I’m just imagining it because two minutes after I showed up at his house, he’s still pretending not to be home.

The butterflies are instantly replaced by dueling emotions: embarrassment and hurt. I’ve never taken rejection well, and if there was one thing I really dug about the idea of being a shifter’s one true mate, it’s that I wouldn’t have to worry about being rejected by Conall. I’m it for him. Why would he push me away when I’m supposed to be the mate he’s waited so long for?

I don’t know, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

I’m hurt—and I’m pissed .

Fine. Is that how he wants play it? Fine . I’ll feel terrible if it turns out he has, like, severe diarrhea going on in there, but even if he is so sick he can’t answer the door, how does that explain the way he’s been avoiding me for days now?

I can take a hint.

Leaving the sandwich on the ledge, I storm down his porch steps.

And I think to myself: what do I want?

I thought it was getting rid of my magic. That was back when I had no idea how to use it. How to control it. How to make it work for me. I was so afraid it would consume me that the only alternative seemed to be finding the crystal and hoping it was enough to siphon my magic out of me.

I’ve gotten much better at wielding my fire. But I’ve come this far in my search for the opal, and if Conall doesn’t want to help me anymore, that’s fine.

I can do it on my own.

I’m taking a break in one of the larger caves when the air erupts in an explosive sound that has me using my free hand to cover my head instinctively.

The first time you have a loose rock drop on your head in a gloomy cave because you don’t have protection, the last time you have a loose rock drop on your head without protection. And while Conall teasingly offered to mold me some kind of hardhat with his two paws, I refused. If he wasn’t using one, I wouldn’t either, but I got real good at covering my head with my hands.

Luckily, the cave I’m in now is one of the larger ones. It’s cool, but not as damp as some of the others since I’m farther in, and I found a cove to sit down and angrily snack on the overpriced granola bar I picked up at the commissary. Nothing falls on my head, but when the sound continues to echo its way through the system, I increase the glow on my firelight, looking away in panic—and a teeny, tiny bit of hope.

Because I know what that sound was. That was a howl .

Wolf. It’s a wolf.

Conall .

He’s the only wolf shifter in Dyea. Unless one of the wild Alaskan wolves are hunting me through the caves, it has to be him.

But why ? And the howl… what was up with the howl?

In all the times that we’ve spent down here together in the caves, I’ve never heard a sound that wasn’t one of us or the creaks and skittering of the loose rocks sliding. Even when Conall snuck up behind me, grabbing me, I never knew he was there until his hands were on my waist

This is the first time he’s alerted me to his presence before he just appeared, scaring the shit out of me in the process. Who knows? Maybe I’m more in tune to the grump…

No.

It was the howl echoing through the cave system, vibrating the loose rocks under my boots with the force of it as I scramble to my feet.

I don’t know what I should do. The warning howl gives me a few seconds to decide, and thought part of me was hoping that he’d come searching for me eventually if I stayed down in the caves after dark, but now that he’s here…

I can’t escape him. I don’t even know if I want to. After how he’s ignored me ever since our kiss, there’s a better chance that I lured him down here on purpose.

We need to hash out this—whatever this is—for once and for all.

Does that mean I’m going to give him any advantage. Hell, no. So though I don’t try to outrun him, taking off deeper into the caves, I decide to hold my ground in a cage large enough to confront Conall.

And then, tapping into my temper and my hurt, I summon a ring of fire around me just in time for Conall to pop out from the small tunnel leading from the previous cave into this one. It’s easy since he’s his wolf, but the second the beast sees me beyond the flames, he shifts.

And there he is.

Conall Hunt.

He’s naked.

He’s naked, and he’s hard.

He’s naked, and he’s huge.

I figured as much. I mean, I already saw him when we was soft, but as he walks with a predatory gait toward me, eyes flashing, clawed fingers flexing, Adam’s apple bobbing in time to the slight bounce of his massive erection… if I wasn’t so mad at him, I might actually whistle in appreciation.

He wouldn’t care, other than to be proud that I’m almost instantly turned on by his body. Nudity isn’t a big deal around shifters. I figured that out shortly after I watched Conall go from wolf to man out in the woods. It didn’t bother him at all that he was standing out in the Alaska cold, free-balling it. Since then, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone out into the village, only to see one of the other shifters who live there walking around with their tits or their ass out.

Clothes don’t survive the shift. When I asked Conall during one of our long treks back, that’s how he explained it. If you’re dressed and have to suddenly let your beast out, your clothes go poof . Most shifters don’t bother getting dressed if they know they’re going to shift, and if they need to turn back to human, they do, barely even noticing that they’re naked.

The only time it counts is when there is attraction involved. He wants to prove himself to be a prospective mate for me so he’s kept his clothes on when I’m around. The only exception was when he followed me out of the sanctuary as his wolf, so worried I’d get in trouble, he shifted from his fur to skin just to tell me off.

He must’ve done the same thing now. Relying on his wolf to get him through the woods, then the caves faster, it was his beast that howled when it caught my scent. It found me, ceding control back to the man since I obviously can’t communicate with his wolf, and here we are.

Conall is naked, and he is the most glorious sight I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Good thing I have the fire wall surrounding me. It’s a reminder that I’m pissed at him, and that as beautiful as my rugged wolf is, I can’t just fall into his arms because he’s here and the relief that he found me is palpable.

“Stay over there,” I warn him.

“I won’t hurt you, Bridget.”

I didn’t think he would.

“I know. But that’s not the point. I don’t know what you’re doing here?—”

“It’s Lou’s fault,” Conall says, his voice harsh and raspy, almost like how I’d imagine his wolf would sound if it had a voice. “I told him during the last full moon that predator shifters can only be contained by silver chains. He got iron chains from the local mill instead. They could hold a prey shifter. Maybe even a delta wolf. But I’m an alpha. They didn’t do shit to keep me in my den once the Luna was out.”

I think I understand about half off that. The most important part, though?

“Chains?” I squeak out. “Mayor Lou put you in chains ?”

I’m suddenly thrown back to when I woke up in Homequarters, a pair of handcuffs twisting my arms behind me. That sucked. I hate the idea that someone would do that to Conall.

And Mayor Lou? I thought he was a good guy!

“I asked him to,” says Conall.

Oh. He is a good guy.

And Conall is…

“Have you lost your mind? Why would you do that?”

“Because it was the only way I could think of to keep my wolf from going after you.”

Ouch. Got it, Mr. Grump. You’re a wolf shifter. Your other half thinks I’m the fated mate it’s waited thirty-three years for, but rather than admit that I might work your human half, too, you’d rather lock yourself in chains like a prisoner.

Okay. Maybe open communication is for the freaking birds.

“Stay over there,” I say again, firmer this time.

He shakes his head roughly. “I can’t.”

“Then good luck with the fire.”

“You won’t burn me.”

“I already did, hotshot.”

“That was different,” insists Conall.

Really? “How?”

“You didn’t have feelings for me then.” For a shifter who seemed so quick to put up walls around us, telling me that I’m his mate with one breath, then assuring me we don’t actually have to act on it in another… he seems pretty fucking sure about that.

I wish I could tell him he’s full of himself. That he’s wrong. It would be a lie, though, and Conall would know the truth the second my scent changed.

He promised he wouldn’t lie to me. I pointed out how it wasn’t fair that he could lie to me all he wanted, but if I tried, his sniffer would pick up on it. In a solemn tone that fit him pretty damn well, he swore that he wouldn’t lie because I was right: it wasn’t fair.

He wanted me to trust him. I remember the slight furrow to his brow when he realized I didn’t after I, you know, lit his tail on fire. He thought I just would , and if I’m supposed to be his forever mate, I guess that’s a pretty fair assumption to make for a shifter.

But I’m not a shifter. I’m Bridget Hayes, and I did start to trust him. I needed to. When one wrong step down here could lead to my death, I had to rely on Conall.

So I did, and sometime over the last month, I did develop feelings for him.

Is it because of the mate bond? Is it because of fate ? Did some part of me recognize that his soul was perfect for mine? We’re like two puzzle pieces, different shapes, different personalities, different everything , but we seem to fit in a way that never made any sense to me.

Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Maybe true love is a leap of faith, and instead of fighting it—instead of fighting Conall—I’m supposed to jump.

Fuck it. With a snap of my fingers, I make the ring of fire higher .

Conall isn’t the only one putting up walls. And, sure, mine are more literal compared to his figurative ones, but he hurt me. He made me think he cared, then basically rejected me. King of mixed signals, right? And I’m just so damn tired of it.

The flames highlight the sharp planes of his face as he sucks in a breath. “That doesn’t change anything, Red. I love you. You care for me. You’re my mate —and I’ve come for you.”

“Gotta get through my fire first,” I dare.

Talk about a metaphor come to life. My whole life, I never really let people in. Probably because my first serious boyfriend was a sleaze ball who cheated on me, but not before he shared my nudes with the whole football team. I got a lot of attention the summer before senior year of high school because of it, and I was never lacking for a guy to have a good time with, but I learned my lesson. Guys come and go. So do friends. I haven’t spoken to any of my old friends or my roommates from New York since I left.

That’s why my friendship with Elise was such a revelation. She took the time to get to know me. She never judged me. We shared an affinity for the same silly shoes, the same silly, addictive phone games, the same steamy romance books. She also seemed to need a protector—even though I know now that she can handle herself—and I’ve been the feisty redhead who cares way more for others than they care about her.

I told Conall that before we had our first kiss. That’s why I love Aunt Maureen and Elise so much. They care about me—and as much as I want to deny it, I know that Conall cares, too.

So he’s not the greatest with words. So he grunts and he growls, and right now he’s prowling outside of the fire, looking for a way in. Actions speak louder than words, and he’s never shied away for showing me his affection in the way a lone wolf who was raised in the wilds of Alaska could: by bringing me the carcasses of his hunts and spending fifteen dollars on a bottle of VO5 at the commissary.

“I broke through chains to get here,” he growls. “Burn me, Red, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to stop me.”

It’s not a threat. To my possessive shifter, going through something I can’t quite understand since I’m not one, it’s a vow .

“I’m not bluffing,” I tell him.

His nostrils flare. Shit. Was that a lie?

It… might’ve been.

“I don’t care. There isn’t anything I won’t do to get to you,” is his ferocious reply before he presses his palm against the wall of fire.

The impact is too fleeting for any real damage. That’s because I freak, immediately willing it away before his skin could sizzle.

The cave plunges into darkness that seems even more impenetrable for how sudden it is. The air crackles, pulsing with something intangible, yet undeniable. Flames flicker back to life behind me, providing illumination just in time for me to see Conall looming over me.

I gulp—one part nervous, one part super fucking aroused—as his gaze eats up mine.

He doesn’t gloat. Though I want to believe that he only tested me because he knew that I would never willingly fry his hand like that, that’s not Conall. He would’ve walked through fire to get to me, whether I left the wall flickering around me or not.

And that realization has me baring my throat just enough that he can’t read that at anything other than my submission.

His eyes burn . “You care for me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

I shrug.

“You’re my fated mate.”

That’s what he told me.

Conall’s hand “You’re mine .”

My hands fly up between our bodies, bracing against against his hard, heaving chest. I can feel the rhythm of his racing heart against my palms—and the bulge in his jeans pushing against my lower belly.

I smirk up at him. “I’ve heard that before. But nothing changed.”

“That’s because you hadn’t fed me.”

What? “What are you talking about? I’ve bought you dinner at the canteen a bunch of times.”

“That’s right, Red. You bought me food, and while I appreciate it, I know better than to take that as a sign that you consider me your mate. But you brought food to my den. Don’t deny it. Your scent was all over the sandwich.”

“I didn’t make it by hand or anything,” I tell him a touch breathlessly, just in case he got the wrong idea. “I bought that from the canteen, too.”

“I know. But you brought it to me. You were trying to provide for your male. And that makes me your male. I’m your mate, whether we’re bonded or not. And I’ll wait for you as long as it takes for you to accept me. It’s just… I know I needed to stay away from you tonight and I couldn’t. I don’t think I can .”

Fuck me. When Conall goes vulnerable like that, I’m putty in his freaking claws.

I slide my hands up, cupping his jaw. I have every intention of kissing him, but my head snaps up, searching his face. “You’re on fire, Conall.” I free one hand, using the back of it to feel his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

He shudders out a breath. “It’s the moon fever,” he admits. “It’s why I needed to be chained up. When the Luna is out, a shifter needs his mate. Rubbing my cock raw only does so much when my instincts are pushing me to make you mine.”

“Is that why you’re here? Why you came after me?”

He doesn’t answer me. Unless I’m wrong, he looks too ashamed to respond.

Oh, that’s not gonna work.

“Conall. Please. I want to know. Remember, I’m new to being a supe. I barely know about any of this. You have to talk to me.”

“It has to be your decision,” is all he says. “Your choice.”

I get that. But it takes two to tango—and, in this case, mate . He wants me; the erection trying desperately to nestle itself against my heat is proof of that. Whatever else is going on between us, I know I want him. But if he only feels this way because of a mythical entity only wolf shifters believe in…

“What about you? What do you want? And be honest with me.”

“I always have,” he grumbles. “I always will.”

I wait.

He exhales, his warm breath fanning the tendrils of my hair surrounding my face. “Okay. What do I want, Red? I want to fuck you.” He snaps his teeth. “To bite you.” He swivels his hips, pushing his erection up against me. “To claim you.”

Conall’s head drops, sucking on my neck. I throw mine back, giving him full access to it as he slips his hand under my shirt. His hand finds my tit, and he squeezes it. “To keep you.”

I dig my fingers into the muscles covering his shoulder blades, clutching to me while tilting my chin up in both invitation and dare.

And then I say three words that change my life as I know it forever— again .

“Then do it.”