Page 21 of Watch Me Burn (Sanctuary #1)

CHAPTER 20

STARS

I don’t even stop to think, or remember that she’s more dangerous than I would’ve thought. Only hoping that that was her only knife, I race over to Conall, dropping down to his side.

He’s still. When I find where the silver got him, his white fur is already slicked down with blood.

I swallow my scream and my panic. Instead, careful not to jostle the stab wound, I pat his fur all over, checking for a pulse, a breath, anything , all while talking to him, hoping he can hear me.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to die on me. Uh-uh. You just promised me forever, Conall. You don’t get to take the easy way out now.”

But maybe he is because apart from the slightest rise and fall of his chest, he isn’t responding to me at all.

And that’s when the witch hunter draws my attention back to her with a smarmy life that sounds like nails running down a chalkboard.

“That was for Stephen. Now one supe down,” gloats Linda, shouting over the wind and the roar of fury in my skull. “One to go. And then the whole damn sanctuary is next.”

Shit. I actually forgot about her for a second there.

This is my fault. All my fault. Not the fire, obviously, but if I’d just taken her out instead of letting her run her mouth, Conall wouldn’t be motionless on the snow.

Fuck me. She was monologuing. I knew she was, but I was the cocky heroine who thought I could get all of the information from the reckless villain before I turned her in to the authorities.

What happened next? She tried to kill the authority.

She tried to kill my mate .

“Oh, shut up.” I flick my fingers. I don’t even give her the satisfaction of seeing my face as I send the most powerful stream of fire I can produce dead at her chest.

I can see her out of the corner of my eye, though. Unlike her precious partner, she doesn’t just catch on fire. No. The silhouette of Linda wrapped in my flames is an orange glow against the black of night for about two seconds before it winks out, and a pile of inky ash on the snow is all that’s left of the witch hunter.

Vampires are ruthless, but so are fire witches, I guess.

Thorn executed the witch hunter who attacked me in Clarity. Whether there are more of them or his partner was the only one gunning for me, I don’t care. Dyea is my home now. These people are mine.

Conall is mine .

He heals. Almost hysterically, I remind myself that I lit his tail on fire and he was healed almost immediately.

It’s gotta be the silver. With that in him, he’ll never heal. So, going against everything I’ve ever learned about what to do when you’ve been impaled or stabbed, I tug the knife out of his side, tossing it far away from me.

Blood pours out of the wound, staining his fur. It’s much larger than it should be, and that freaks me out even more.

What if he bleeds out before he can heal?

No. I can… I can do something.

I can help .

Clutching the fire opal in my left fist, I concentrate on the pointer finger on my right hand. A little boost of magic and here’s hoping I’m cauterizing his wound instead of giving him third degree burns.

The blood stops. That’s the only different, and my heart aches as I remember that he wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t been a target.

I was so worried about the damn witch hunters coming after me. They did, but what Linda did was even worse.

She went after Conall.

“Wake up,” I plead, shoving my fingers past his fur, trying to bring his wolf around. “Conall, please. Come back to me.”

Can he hear me? I think he might because, suddenly, I’m not clutching his wolf’s muzzle. He’s laying on his side, protecting his wound—which is now an ugly red burn scar from where I successfully cauterized it—while my hands grip his jaw.

It’s a similar pose as we had earlier tonight, when I noticed he was burning up with moon fever. Is it bad that his skin feels cool and clammy to the touch now?

“Conall?”

His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me blearily. “Red. You’re okay.”

“Mr. Grump,” I say, relief bubbling up as a sob in my throat. My marked throat. “You’re not.”

He starts to push himself up on his elbows. I place my hand on his shoulder, pinning him in place.

He could throw me off super easily. He doesn’t, though, and I squeeze his skin. “Stay. You were unconscious.” You looked dead . “You need to rest.”

“I’ll be fine.”

My face tells him I don’t believe him at all.

“I will. Might take a minute, but I’ll recover. Promise, baby.” His lips twitch into that crooked smile that stole my heart back at the canteen. “You like it when I call you ‘baby’. Your scent… your fire glazes inside of you. Makes you even more beautiful, and considering you’re the most fucking gorgeous female I’ve ever seen before, that’s impressive. You’re still my ‘Red’, but, Bridget Hunt, you’ll always be my ‘baby’.” His eyes shutter closed for a moment. “And my mate.”

I might not be Bridget Hunt. Not yet. But I am his mate.

And I’m pretty sure Conall is dying.

He better not be fucking dying.

Keeping my tone light, hoping he can’t pick up on my terror that his kind words are some kind of deathbed confession, I say, “Wow. That silver knife really did a number on you.”

And if I could resurrect Linda from the ashes and incinerate her again, I would. To knock the grumpiness right out of Conall, leaving him weaker than I’ve ever seen the predator shifter… she’d deserve it.

His eyes peek open. Despite the large burn scar—hiding his knife wound—on his side, you would think he’s just being playful with me the way his expression twists. “Nah. Well, yeah. It knocked the moon fever right out of me. I can see clearly now for the first time in days, and you know what?”

A lump lodges in my throat. “What?”

His golden eyes glitter in the moonlight. “You’re my mate.”

My heart swells. Stroking a strand of hair out of those pretty, pretty eyes, I tell him, “Sure am.”

“You can control your fire.”

“I kicked that fire’s ass, baby.”

His smile widens. “I like being your ‘baby’, too,” he rumbles before lowering his back to the snow. Patting his stomach, careful to avoid his new burn, he says, “Okay. I probably shouldn’t move too much while I’m regenerating the muscle and tissues the silver killed, but if you climb on top of me and do all the work, we can continue our mating night.”

My mouth falls open. “Conall! You just got stabbed!”

That doesn’t seem to faze him one bit. “And my witch used fire to kill my attacker. You protected me, Red. You showed me you’re as much as possessive predator as I am. You don’t think that’ll make me fucking horny? Trust, everything about you makes me think of sex, but watching you burn her? Come on. Climb on top.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Minutes ago, I thought I lost him. I thought he’d bleed out, and now he’s sprawled out on blood-covered snow, gesturing at his obvious erection while the caustic stench of Linda’s remains fills the air.

And I thought Mayor Lou was bad…

“I told you. That last time in the caves was because you looked so pathetic, begging me to fuck you. After that, I want a bed. Yours, mine, I don’t care. But I’m not riding you out here in the cold where anyone could see us.”

What if the others are trying to figure out what was going on with the fire—and where it went? They must come out her and get more than they bargained for?—

“I could beg again.”

Know what? It might work, too.

No.

No .

“You need to see a healer.” Thankfully, one of the vampires does a little supe healing on the side. I can only imagine what’ll cost us to deserve Hetty after dark, but for Conall, I’ll give her whatever she wants. And it’s blood… with the fire opal, maybe I can still the fire in my blood long enough to feed her without burning her tongue.

Unless, of course, my possessive mate has something to say about that…

“Fair enough. But how about a kiss?”

I roll my eyes. Leaning down over him, I press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Thanks. Now what about Li’l Grump?”

I sputter. He didn’t just… “Li’l Grump?”

Conall gestures down at his erection. “Does he get a kiss, too?”

I laugh. It explodes out of me, kind of like how the fire did after I climaxed.

My mate gives me a look of utmost satisfaction—even though poor Li’l Grump doesn’t get that kiss… yet—as he sprawls out on the snow.

I lay down next to him. The fire raging through me is so consuming, I expect the snow to melt underneath me. Maybe it’s because of the fire opal in my pocket keeping it contained. Maybe it’s all my practice at learning control. Whatever it is, the snow cushions me, only the tiniest hint of a chill there to cool me off.

Conall lashes his hand out, grabbing my wrist. He doesn’t pull me on top of him. I didn’t expect him to. Despite how boldly he propositioned me after nearly getting gutted in the side, it’s not about sex. Not really.

Instead, he tugs me until our sides are touching. I feel the heat of his naked body pouring off of him, and I’ve never felt hotter.

“I know what you’re doing,” I murmur to the stars above.

“What’s that?” he asks the night sky.

I lay my hand possessive on his thigh. “You know. And I appreciate it.”

Using humor to distract me? Covering up his own pain and overprotective tendencies? It seems like there’s a whole other side to Conall, and I’m just glad that we’ll have the rest of our lives for me to discover all of them.

We need to head back to Dyea. I need to reach out to Celeste and let her know that Linda was the witch hunter, and that she murdered a coven witch to take her place. I have to make sure Elise and the rest of the village is okay. My gauge of the fire tells me that it didn’t reach the sanctuary, and that’s assuming the spell protecting our borders would’ve even allowed the fire to gobble up the trees surrounding us.

Still, I don’t know how much the heat and the smoke and the orange glow made it to Dyea. Elsie will be worried, and the prey shifters will probably be shitting themselves without Conall there to act as their security.

Goodness knows the vampires in the town won’t do anything to help…

Conall needs a better patch job than what I did. He probably also needs a pair of pants because I don’t want anyone else getting a peek at what belongs to me now.

But all of that can wait. This is our mating night. With the moon hanging over our heads, shining down on us—happy, sated, and alive —Conall takes my hand in his. His claws tap the top of my hand gently before squeezing my palm, no fear at all that I’ll let loose the same fire that turned Linda to ash where she stood.

Of course not. Conall’s never been afraid of my fire, just like the only time my wolf made me nervous was when I thought he was an honest-to-God Alaskan wolf coming to eat me.

Nope. It was just a wolf shifter who wants to eat me… but that can wait until later.

Everything can wait.

Because this moment right now?

It’s ours , and I wouldn’t want it any other way.