Page 125 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Sunday gapes at me. “You speak raccoon now?”

“No,” I reply, my lips quirking slightly. “I overheard the girls inside. They tried to put him in a dress, a yellow one.”

She bursts out laughing, her shoulders shaking as the raccoon continues its furious tirade.

“Oh sweetheart, I know, Yellow really washes you out…”

Wade shakes his head, muttering something about “damned shifter nonsense,” but I catch the faintest twitch of a smile before he drains the rest of his scotch.

***

The porch is quieter now. Wade and Arcadia are gathering up plates, bottles, and lost articles of clothing, their flashlight beams cutting through the dark. The hum of their conversation fades as Sunday and Tomas make their goodbyes.

“…And I’ll be there when you rise tomorrow, I promise.” She kisses me again, shrewdly examining the bond between us.

“I don’t expect that, Lover. Enjoy your Alpha.” I run a finger down the slope of her nose and tap the tip. “Don’t worry about me, or Ben, or your Cat. This is your night. Enjoy it without guilt… please.”

I watch as Tomas opens the passenger door for her, the soft glow from the headlights catching her face as she laughs at something he says. A delicious expectation stretches between them, nearly visible. She’ll return to me tomorrow with another bite, another part of her soul stretched to encompass Tomas this time. And though I don’t entirely understand how, she’ll be stronger for it. The more she gives away, the bigger she becomes.

Xavier leans against the railing beside me, their sharp eyes tracking the car as it pulls away. “They’ll be fine,” they murmur, more to themselves than to me.

The taillights fade into the dark. Xavier stays close enough that I could reach for them, but they understand when I don’t.

My gaze drifts to the edge of the woods, where the treeline sways gently in the night air. It’s the same spot where, not so long ago, I stood and watched her leave with Ben. Back then, there was no bond, no promise tying us together—only the faint, gnawing fear that she might never return.

So much has changed since that night. The bond is complete now, unshakable. Tomas, Xavier, and Ben are as much hers as she is mine. Wade and Arcadia, Val and Sue, even—God help me—Colton, have become part of this strange, sprawling family. Even the children are inescapably woven into my life, an end to my once-quiet existence.

Deep down, I’ll always wish for more. I can admit that. I want her to be mine in ways that defy the sharing, the stretching, the giving away that makes her who she is.

“Deja vu?” Xavier’s voice cuts softly through the quiet.

I tilt my head toward them, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “More like cycles,” I say. “The same things, again and again. Only… different.”

They hum in response, leaning into me for just a moment before pulling away. “Let’s head back to the townhouse and find a way to commiserate.”

I nod, turning toward the house as the porch settles into silence. The night stretches on, unchanged, even as everything in my world continues to shift. Cycles, I think again.

Some things have a way of coming back around.

Chapter Fourty Five

Mating Venom

— Sunday —

Tomas ushers me into the sitting room, his hand firm on my back. There’s something different about him tonight. The way his fingers press just a little too hard against my spine, the way his breathing comes faster, heavier—labored. I reach for him with my gift, skimming the edges of his emotions. But this time, he doesn’t shoot me that knowing look. He’s too entangled in his struggle for control to sense my intrusion.

He clicks on the side table lamp, filling the room with warm light. But it doesn’t ease the tension crackling in the air. The honey-blond wood and clean Danish lines seem absurd now—too charming, too ordinary for what’s coming.

His voice cuts through the homey atmosphere, edged with a darkness I’m not accustomed to. “Before we do this, we need to talk.”

Perched on the edge of our new bottle-green couch, I twist the hem of my sleeve and voice my fear. I’m getting better at this part. “So, you’re not… changing your mind, are you?”

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening. I’ve never seen them like this—ebony black, rimmed with gold, his pupils far too wide for the soft light in here.

“No.”

He crouches, leaning forward, his hands braced on his knees. He wants to reach for me, but he holds himself back. “But you need to understand, Trouble—this isn’t going to be like yourother bonds. My wolf… he’s already pushing me, and I’m…” He runs a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “On edge.”

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