Page 41 of Watch Me Burn

Chicks do, too. I’m proof of that, even if it’s been way too long since I’ve gotten laid… and here in Alaska, I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

And, yet, I don’t drop the subject. Instead, I ask Conall, “Shifters have mating rituals, too, don’t they?”

“You mean when we bond?” At my shrug, Conall explains, “Of course. Us wolves revere the Luna. Our moon goddess. She guides us to find our mates. Alphas are gifted the name of their mate when they lead a pack. I’m a lone wolf. I don’t have a pack.”

“So how will you find your mate?” I ask, way more curious than I should be.

And, no, that’s not suspicious at all...

“I’ll know it in here,” he says, gesturing at his nose. Snout? He’s human now so I’ll go with nose. Dropping his hand, he lays the flat of his palm against his chest. “And here.”

“Your pec?”

Conall gives me a look of disbelief. “My heart, Red. When I’m looking at my mate, I’ll know it in my heart. After that, I’ll just have to wait until my mate eventually recognizes that we’re fated to be together.”

“What happens then?”

His eyes glimmer in the firelight. “We will mate. When the Luna is high, I’ll mark my mate as mine as I claim her body. We’ll be bonded then, and it’s a bond that will never break.”

Holy shit. Where did the butterflies flapping away in my belly come from?

Jeez, Bridge. I already knew my taste in guys is questionable. Always has been. But don’t tell me that after convincing myself that Conall was a witch hunter on the low, all it takes is him actually offering to help me search for the fire opal for me to start liking him a little.

He’s a shifter. Worse, he’s awolfshifter. His kind—like most supes—mates for life, and he only gets one. Of course he’s holding out for the one woman meant for him.

And there’s no point in even entertaining that strange pull toward him because no way is itme.

“In that case, good luck to you and the future Mrs. Grump.”

“Hunt,” he grumbles.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my name. Hunt. Conall Hunt.”

I snort. “Fitting.”

I really wishI could say that we found the crystal. That there was, like, some blinking neon sign in one of the abandoned, musty caves that told us we found the right one.

Yeah, right.

It’s one thing to look at a map and be like: I need to get there. In reality, certain caves are blocked, either by rocks or because there never really was a path from one to another in the first place. Conall might insist he knows how to read a map—and, I’ll admit, he’s doing a better job than if I had to do it myself—but when we make it to one of the starred caves, it doesn’t look any different than the others that we squeezed our way through.

We were probably down here for about two hours before Conall mentioned we should probably be heading back to the entrance. Assuming it would take at least half that long to reach the entrance, I reluctantly agreed.

I felt like I failed. Conall only has my description of what I’m supposed to be looking for to go on so I can’t blame him when we leave the caves empty-handed. I’m the witch. Celeste told me, as a fire witch, I’d be able to find it.

I didn’t.

What I did find, though?

The tiniest bit of grudging respect for Conall.

Okay. So I misjudged him. I got one look at his scowl, let it color my first impression of him, and decided that he had a problem with me from then on. Never mind the fact that he’s the only one in Dyea besides Elise and Mayor Lou who actually paid attention to me. I got the wrong idea, and after spending the afternoon with him, I’m willing to admit that I did.

He’s not as bad as I thought. Easy on the eyes, definitely, and his shifter talents came in handy. He doesn’t need the fire to see down in the caves because his vision is that impressive, and his nose is such a good sniffer, he could follow our tracks back to the entrance. Even if he didn’t know the caves as well as he does, his wolf would make it so that we didn’t get stuck underground.

There are so many more caves to explore. Seeing how disappointed I was that we didn’t find the fire opal, he promisedto help me search until we do. The only concession I had to make was agreeing not to go down there when he can’t. If he’s too busy with the village, or Mayor Lou needs him for something, he asked—asked, not demanded, which is one of the only reasons I say okay—if I would wait for him.

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