Page 48 of Watch Me Burn

Can a wolf shifter get PMS?

That’s what I’m thinking as I storm into the cottage just now. Because if they can? Conall is totally PMS-ing.

Hey. He has a cycle, right? Wolf shifters do everything by the moon. Who knows? It would definitely would explain why he’s gone back to being Mr. Grump on freaking steroids on the heels of me thinking that maybe, just maybe, we might be friends even if I can’t be his mate.

This return to the snappish, glaring wolf I first met a couple of weeks started a couple of days ago. And I wish I could blame Conall completely for his shitty attitude, but that’s not fair. It’s just mostly his fault.

Since the stars on the map proved utterly useless, we’ve given up following the guide that the bus driver passed off to me. We use Conall’s nose and his wolf’s sense of direction to search as many as we can for some sign of the fire opal without any luck so far.

That’s where I accept some of the blame for pissing him off. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I can’t change it now. It’s just… I’m so frustrated that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, orthat I might’ve walked right by it without knowing I did. I keep thinking that I’ll stumble upon some shiny orange rocks, but now that it’s been twoweeksof looking, I have to accept it’s not gonna be that easy.

And that’s assuming Celeste Montvale was right in the first place and there even is fire opal in the underground caves…

So, yeah. I’m frustrated. I try not to take it out on my wolfy guide because I do honestly appreciate everything he’s done for me. The other shifters might’ve thought they were funny, implying that Conall might actually be treating me as a prospective mate all because we ate dinner together, but I don’t get that vibe at all. He’s just doing his duty as the protector for his own cobbled-together pack of supernatural misfits.

But when I innocently ask if there’s a chance he might beaccidentallyleading me toward caves where he knew we wouldn’t find anything… not accusing him, but only asking out of frustration… I see the return of good ol’ Mr. Grump.

It doesn’t help that the sporadic snowfalls led to a fierce blizzard earlier this week. Dyea got sixteen inches over two days, and if I ever wanted to blow my cover and use my fire magic in front of the other supes in the village, it was then. Due to the weather, Conall put his big wolf paw down, refusing to even entertain the idea of heading toward the caves. I hated how much he wasn’t even a little wrong, and holed up in the cottage with Elise, barely paying attention to the latest show we started.

Like Buffy, True Blood is about vampires, and it’s another one of Elise’s choice. She seems to prefer it. Me? When I pick Alcide as my favorite character all because he’s a werewolf, I know I’m in trouble.

I didn’t see Conall for those two days, though when the snow finally stopped, there were quite a few boot tracks going from our cottage down toward his, plus a frozen snow hare he must’ve hunted that I passed over to Elise without a word.

He tried to feed me again, even without us being able to hit the canteen. What the hell did that mean?

I don’t know, and maybe if I didn’t offend him earlier today—the first time we’ve been back at the caves since the snowstorm—I could’ve asked.

Instead, Conall cut our exploration short. I was annoyed, but when my hand started sparking every time he rumbled something else at me, it was probably a good idea that we headed back to Dyea.

Surprise, surprise: Elise is gone. Based on how I caught her staring out the back door during the snowstorm, staring wistfully out into the woods, I’m starting to think that I’m not the only one who is pushing the borders of the sanctuary town. Only when I left, Conall chased after me; as always, he’s the protector. But Elise? I’m pretty sure she’s sneaking out when I’m in the caves with Conall because he’s not here to stop her.

Where is she going? I still don’t know, but if Elise needs something to do while I’m busy underground, who am I to poke my nose into her business? If she wants me to know, she’ll tell me. I have to remember that Elise is seventy-freaking-two. She might have a babyface. She’s still more than twice my age, and I have to trust her to take care of herself.

And who the hell am I kidding? Maybe Conall and I have more in common than I thought because I have a bit of a protector streak, too. Which is why, once I notice that Elise is missing from the cottage again, I decide to take a walk around Dyea in case I run into her.

I don’t know why. All of my instincts tell me she’s out in the woods somewhere, but if I go searching for her there, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll turn around and a big grey-and-white wolf will be right behind me.

Is that crazy? I feel like it’s crazy.

Conall Hunt makes me crazy.

I don’t know where he took off to after we walked in silence back to the settlement. Mumbling that he needed to run, I went in search of Elise—and I’m still looking for her.

And, okay, maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to bumping into Conall and…

And what? Apologize? Make him apologize?

Kiss him?

Wait— kiss him? Where the hell did that idea come from?

I shake my head. Shoving my hands in the back of my jeans pocket, I bite down and walk toward the commissary.

I don’t make it. Halfway to the store, I get flagged down by one of the shifters I’ve met at the canteen. James. I know two things about him: he turns into a rat, and he works as the dishwasher at the canteen.

I’ve talked to him a couple of times, usually when I was eating alone. Since I’ve been sitting with Conall for my meals, the notably skittish James stays on the other side of the canteen.

He’s tall and willowy. I’d even say he might have an inch or two on Conall, though James’s seems so much smaller when I compare him to Conall’s broad shoulders and toned body. Like Conall, James has a lighter shade of brown hair, though his eyes are kinda beady and black instead of Conall’s pretty gold… and, there you go again, Bridge, comparing everyone you see with Conall.

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