Page 13 of Make Me Bleed

“Conall?”

He growls again, words this time, and loud enough that I can’t miss it even from my hiding place in the kitchen.

“Predator.”

Crap. No.

Closing my eyes, I reach out with my senses. They shouldn’t normally work since this is their home, not mine, and I don’t have an instinctive need to protect this space as my lair, but I swallow another gasp as something deep inside of me senses a pull, then a tug as my beloved… he answers my call.

A blood-bond can be formed long before a mate bond. It only takes one half of an exchange, but the male—or female—I’m drinking from needs tochooseto allow it to for. They have to choose me as someone they wouldn’t mind being bonded to. It’s a weak tie existing through blood, and it only lingers as long as their blood is in my veins. It makes it so that I can find themif necessary, usually because a vampire is in need of their donor again.

I never would’ve expected the bear to wordlessly create a blood-bond when I bit him. But if heismy mate… I’m not surprised if he did. This sliver of a thread I feel spooling deep in my gut? It’s attached to someone, and as Bridget’s voice grows hard, asking Conall ‘what’ and ‘where’, I can’t deny that it must be the male from the woods.

What do I do? Run? Let Conall and Bridget distract him while I?—

What? Hide? He seems to have tracked me here. If the bear can feel the blood-bond at all, he can find me. Plus, he’s a predator. A hunter.

And that’s not all.

Of all supes, shifters are the most obsessive when it comes to claiming their mates. Whether I was born to be his or this is just some fluke brought on by my thirst, ifhethinks I’m his mate, there will be no escape until I accept him, reject him, or figure out why just the thought I might have the chance to taste him again has my fangs elongated again as my mouth waters…

Bridget must not like Conall’s explanation that another predator is approaching—though I’m slightly stunned when he tells her he’s thinking it’s a bear… and he’sright—because over the other potent scents in their den, I now smellfire.

“Whoever it is, I’ll get rid of them. A little singed fur will get this bear to understand he doesn’t want to mess with us.” Her footsteps head away from me as she commands Conall, “Watch my back.”

“I always will,” he rumbles back, adoration in the wolf’s gruff voice, though he’d probably snap his fangs at me if I pointed it out.

I can’t say that. I can’t say anything. My hands are worrying the skirt of my dress as I rock back on the points of my dirt-covered heels. I want to stop them. I want to warn them about the bear, about who he could be, and why I can feel him growing closer and closer to the front of the house. Only… I don’t. I don’t even race for the back door, or duck deeper in the kitchen so that on one knows I’m here.

Instead, I edge closer to the door, peeking out as Bridget dampens the fireball hovering over her right hand so that she can fling open the front door. An instant later, she conjures it again, both hands covered in flames as she glares protectively up at the male looming in the doorway.

Earlier, I was stunned stupid by his naked body. I got a quick look at the rest of him, but the size of his cock is definitely branded in my memory. The rest is just vague descriptors. Size? Huge. Hair? Dark. Body? Delectable.

His eyes, though… I remember his eyes. They’re just as lovely as before; even more, in fact, since he’s wide awake instead of half asleep.

He’s also partly covered up.

I understand how I managed to keep my lead on him. Sometime after I bolted, he must’ve stopped and grabbed a pair of blue denim jeans. He doesn’t have a shirt, leaving his sculpted muscles—and surprisingly bare chest—on display. No shoes, either, and the size of his feet make it obvious I didn’t imagine how well-endowed he is. The jeans fit snugly, the button the only bit of decency on this male, and I try to ignore the sense of relief running through me that he isn’t flashing Bridget.

His face is gorgeous. Seriously. Maybe I’m biased because he might… might be my beloved, but the sharp planes of his cheekbones highlight his lush lips. His shaggy hair falls debonairly forward, slightly tousled and begging for me to run my fingers through it to see if it was soft as it felt brushing against my cheek before.

And his neck…

I bit him. I can’t deny that. The proof of it is on his neck—but the fact that it’sstill on his neckis a problem.

Shifters heal nearly as quickly as vampires do. Our regenerative properties are amazing, and I would’ve expected my fang marks to be long healed by now.

Unless he kept them.

Shifters mark their mates. It’s part of their mating ritual. They bite their mates so everyone knows their taken, and before the bond is finalized, their mate must mark them in return. Even Bridget marked Conall in her way. She admitted that there’s a burn scar on Conall’s ass from the whole ‘lighting his tail on fire’ incident that he prizes as her mark on him.

This bear? He kept mybite.

I shudder, not sure if I’m terrified of what that could mean—or even more turned on by the prospect of it…

Conall surges forward, joining Bridget. His nostrils flare as he takes an obvious sniff before growling. “This is my territory, bear. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The answering tug in my gutyanks, and I stumble forward, fingers wrapped around the door jamb before I land flat on my face in the living room. Catching myself, I nearly choke on my tongue as I fly backward, head cradled against the wall so that I’m hidden again.

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