Page 15 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

“I’ll admit,” I say as Tomas retakes his seat, “I’m a little concerned about what Colt and Shadow might get up to when they finally meet.”

Ben chuckles. “X is smart. They’re just struggling a little this morning—or rather, their jaguar is.”

“Really? How so?”

“He’d like to have a bond with Gray again. They tried to convince me earlier that biting him when he’s dead is ‘their thing.’” Ben shakes his head, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “So, we need to watch Gray’s ass today. Literally.”

“Aww, I think we should let them,” I say, my heart melting a little at the thought of the big cat’s longing.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were the queen of consent.”

“I just think it would make them both feel better,” I argue. “And who’s to say it’snottheir thing?”

Tomas cuts in, his voice rough-edged. “I can’t, in good conscience, let Xavier stealth-bond Gray while he’s dead.” His words are firm, but I sense the envy simmering beneath—laced with a raw insecurity. It’s not fear of losing his place; it’s the gnawing need to prove he belongs there in the first place.

His emotions surge beneath his composure, each one clashing and unresolved. I know I can’t untangle it for him, but I can help lighten the load.

Without overthinking, I scooch onto my Alpha’s lap, pulling his mouth down to mine in a reassuring kiss. He tastes like espresso and lemon, his lips warm beneath mine. For a moment, I feel his tension begin to unravel. His hands settle on my waist, holding me close, but there’s more than possession in his grip—there’s raw, aching need, though whether it’s for me or Grayson, I can’t tell.

I smooth the hair curling at the nape of his neck, feeling it flatten beneath my fingertips. “Do you trust me?” I whisper against his lips.

He nods, his misgivings shifting into something warmer, deeper. His eyes meet mine, the sharp edges softening as his wolf settles. There’s still a flicker of insecurity, but hope glimmers there, too.

“I’ll fix this,” I promise, patting his broad chest. I imagine his wolf lying there, growling softly, craving comfort. “I’ll make it right for both of you.”

He sighs, leaning into the kiss, but before either of us can speak further, his phone buzzes—a jarring reminder of the outside world.

“I have to take this.”

“Okay, but we still need to—”

He’s already guiding me to another chair, kissing my forehead, and striding back into the suite. “Jim, thanks for getting back to me. I looked at the numbers and…”

“Jim?” I echo, brow furrowed.

Ben shrugs, a sneaky smile slipping out before he quickly quashes it. He’s clearly enjoying my confusion.

“Could be banker Jim or real-estate-development Jim… There’s also a Jim in the Southern Pack, not far from Greenbriar.” A playful glint dances in his eyes. “Tommy has a lot of Jims in his life.”

“Well, which Jim is this one?” I press, leaning closer. “I bet you heard his voice and already know.” There’s always something, isn’t there? Some piece of information everyone else seems to have that I don’t. Maybe Jim isn’t important, but the way Ben avoids my eyes makes me think otherwise.

His grin falters, and a shadow of guilt crosses his face. He mumbles something about having to see a man about a horse, then escapes inside with a hasty kiss on my cheek, eyes still averted. Something’s going on, but I don’t have the attention span—or the emotional bandwidth—to dig deeper.

I stuff one more pastry into my mouth, my gaze drifting to the western horizon where the clear sky deepens to a stormy gray-blue. The first sign of incoming weather.

Walking to the balcony’s edge, I lean against the cool wrought-iron railing. Elba stretches below me, its muted green slopes tumbling toward the inky blue sea. Tiny villages with terracotta roofs glow warmly, nestled among the pines and oaks. In the harbor, white sails catch the breeze like birds poised for flight—brief, fleeting freedom.

The storm on the horizon seems to hold all our uncertainties. It’s a reminder of how fragile this tranquility truly is, and I wonder: can we harness that energy, or will it simply tear us up?

Chapter Six

Behind the Woodshed

— Grayson —

The world swims into focus slowly, the edges of my vision blurred, like a memory resurfacing from a deep well. But there’s warmth here, too—a comforting weight pressed against my side, anchoring me to the present.

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. And then I see her. My thrice-bonded—my psyche—my mate. Her head rests on my chest, her breath teasing my skin in soft, rhythmic puffs. She’s curled into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

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