Page 68 of Watch Me Burn

I canhelp.

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. Mymarkedthroat. “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 lookeddead. “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’sass,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.”

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