Page 67 of Watch Me Burn
“Just stay aware and report anything unusual. I promised your grandfather I’d look after you when he was gone.”
The mention of Grandpa opens a dull wound in my chest. Two days ago was the sixth anniversary of his death. I spent it the same way I always do. Shadow and I hiked up to Triangle Mountain, one of his favorite places in the world. That’s where I scattered his ashes, and every year since, we make the trek back. It’sa three-hour round-trip hike under normal conditions, but this year the falling snow added another forty minutes to our time.
Maren worries when I go up there in winter conditions, convinced I’ll slip on ice or get caught in a storm, but being on that mountain makes me feel connected to him again.
My throat closes, and I have to force it open before words will come. “I know. I appreciate everything you do, Karen.”
She heads for the door, then pauses with her hand on the handle. “I’ll let you know if we come up with anything at all in the investigation. Be careful driving home—those roads are getting slick.”
After she leaves, I turn back to Betty. She’s fascinated by her computer screen, clicking through what looks like the same email over and over, but we both know she was listening. Just as we both know that Eleanor will be privy to the details of my conversation with Karen by the end of the day. I could ask Betty to keep this conversation private, but the request would be futile. In Aspen Ridge, secrets have a half-life measured in hours, not days.
Betty chats about her granddaughter’s upcoming wedding while she rings everything up. I make appropriate responses, but my mind is elsewhere.
She hands me the box. “You take care, Luna.”
“I will. You too. Say hi to Harry for me.”
I pull my coat closed, steeling myself for the cold, before pushing through the doors. The snow has picked up, large flakes now drifting down from the darkening sky.
And the feeling hits me again, stronger than before. I pause beside my truck, box in hand, and scan the street. The sensation ripples along my skin like electricity, raising the fine hairs on my arms. But unlike earlier, this feels different. Darker. More menacing.
Maybe it isn’t my wolf watching me.
No, it has to be. This is what he does, but uncertainty gnaws at me. The watching presence feels wrong in a way that makes my stomach clench with genuine fear instead of that twisted excitement I’ve grown accustomed to.
I fumble with my keys, dropping them once in my haste to get into the truck, and I curse under my breath. When I get the door open, I toss the box across the seat and climb inside as quickly as possible.
The engine turns over on the second try, and I waste no time pulling away from the curb. In my rearview mirror, Main Street looks the same as always. Quiet, peaceful, and covered in a light dusting of snow. But the feeling of being watched doesn’t fade until I’m well outside the town limits.
Chapter seventeen
Luna
Istretch as I roll over. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting my bedroom in a soft golden glow that belies the ferocity of last night. The sheets are tangled around my legs, and I can still feel the grip of his hands on my hips, my wrists, and my throat.
My wolf is gone, as always. I don’t remember his leaving. I think I might have passed out after that last orgasm. Stretching, I wince at the delicious soreness in my body. It’s the price I pay for our nights together, and one I’ll always accept.
Something feels different this morning, though. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and as soon as I stand, a sharp cramp seizes my lower abdomen. My hands grip the edge of the nightstand, knuckles white, until the pain releases its hold.
The first step sends warmth trickling down my inner thigh. I freeze, one foot on the hardwood floor, the other still on the rug beside the bed.
“What the hell?” I drop my gaze to see a trail of dark blood on my pale skin.
The bathroom light is too bright as I examine myself and try to make sense of what my body is telling me. The bleeding is vaginal, but my period isn’t due for another two weeks. Last night replays in my mind. It was the same roughness we both crave, but nothing new, nothing violent enough to explain what I’m seeing.
I look at the clock, and it’s a little after 8 AM. Shit. What happened to my alarm? Did I forget to set it?
I grab my phone and dial my doctor’s office.
“Dr. Ritchie’s office, how can I help you?” The receptionist’s cheerful voice makes me cringe.
“Hi, this is Luna Foster. I need to see Dr. Ritchie. It’s urgent.”
“Oh, Luna!” Her tone immediately warms with recognition. “Let me check the schedule. How urgent are we talking? Today urgent or this week urgent?”
“Today would be best.” I grab a pair of jeans from my dresser drawer. “I’m having some unexpected bleeding.”
“Say no more. Let me see… We had a cancellation at ten thirty. Would that work?”
