Page 115 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I shove the thought aside, dragging a hand down my face just as the boards creak under familiar boots. Colt bounces up the steps to the porch, his wheat-blond hair overdue for a trim, blue eyes perpetually full of mischief.

It’s been a few days, and I still want to strangle Colton Prescott. But it’s hard. Sunday says he’s Teflon-coated, and I get that. It’s nearly impossible to stay hostile with someone who never stops smiling and offering to help. He’s got that damn Prescott charm down to a science, and it’s maddening.

He flops into a chair across from me, grinning like he’s in on the best joke in the world. He holds out a green plastic bottle of soda, the liquid inside glowing like something that should come with a biohazard label.

It’s Mountain Dew, but somehow more… fluorescent.

I stare at the green plastic bottle Colt’s shoving toward me. It looks like someone distilled radioactive waste and put a label on it.

“Uh… thanks, but…”

“It’s SunDrop. You need the caffeine,” he says, leaning forward, all wide-eyed sincerity as if he’s handing me an elixir of life.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” I push it back toward him, keeping my expression flat. I’m still not ready to let him off the hook. My wolf grumbles in agreement. Colt might be Sunday’s brother, but the last few days haven’t exactly left me feeling charitable.

He sighs dramatically, the bottle thunking onto the table with exaggerated disappointment. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I’ll survive.” I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch out. Maybe he’ll get the hint that I’m not in the mood for his antics.

But of course, it’s Colt. He doesn’t do silence. He just grins, that Teflon-coated charm shining through. “She’s gonna flip the fuck out. I can’t wait to see it.”

A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I fight it off. “I just hope she says yes.”

“Please.” He waves a dismissive hand. “She’s been pretending not to want this for years.” He rocks his chair back on two legs, utterly carefree. “I bet she cries.”

The thought of Sunday crying in front of everyone makes my jaw clench. “I hope not.”

Colt drops his chair back down with a thud, his grin fading. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and something in his eyes shifts—less mischief, more uncertainty. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

I hesitate, my instinct to keep him at arm’s length still strong. But damn it, I’m not made of stone. “We’re practically family. Shoot.”

He glances away, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the porch floorboards. “Do vampires ever get married? I mean… not just to other vamps. Do they marry shifters or, um, humans sometimes?”

I narrow my eyes, trying to hold onto my irritation, but it’s slipping away, like sand through my fingers. “Is this about Vivien?”

“Nah, just curious.” He says it too fast, his gaze skittering past me like a rabbit caught out in the open.

I exhale sharply, already feeling the inevitable pull toward the role of reluctant counselor. “Sure you are.”

He shifts in his seat, a sheepish smile flickering and dying on his lips. “Look, man, I ain’t got anyone to talk to about this. She’s got me all twisted up, and I don’t know why she stopped…”

I try to stay detached, but the frustration in his voice lands harder than I expect. My wolf huffs, and before I know it, I’mleaning forward, elbows on my knees, mirroring his posture. “Stopped what? Feeding from you? Returning your texts?”

“No, she still likes my blood.” He rubs the back of his neck, staring at the yard like it might offer answers. “We had one night, one really good night, and now she won’t even kiss me. Drinks from my arm and practically bolts afterward.”

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. So much for keeping my distance. Looks like I’ve been drafted into the Prescott pep squad.Again.

“Have you tried talking to her?” My voice comes out dry, but there’s no real bite to it.

“Have you met her?” Colt raises a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I have. I know her pretty well.”

“Oh yeah, she told me all about that.” He pauses, then smirks. “Does Sunday know you were boinking the boss’s daughter?”

“Boinking?” I lean back, giving him a flat look. “I take it back—we aren’t family.”

He laughs, the sound full of mischief, and I shake my head. “For the record, I’d never keep anything from your sister, especially something that might hurt her. Vampires have a lot of sex, Colt. They don’t hang much meaning on it.”

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