Page 37 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I frown, wracking my brain. “Umm, I guess we’d be part of the… Louisiana Purchase-shaped one?”

Rurik’s lips twitch, but he manages to maintain his composure. “The Louisiana Territories, yes. Your Queen is Sylvie DuFour.”

Crossing my arms, I quip, “Well, no offense to Ms. DuFour, but she ain’t my queen—nor any of my family’s.”

Rurik exhales a breath of pure consternation. “Grayson, perhaps you can explain the reality of our situation to your bonded.”

Grayson leans back, arms draped casually over the armrests, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh no. I think I’d like to watch you tangle with your ‘Little Sun.’ I can’t imagine she’ll become more agreeable once she’s your chyld.”

There’s humor in his tone, but I feel something else beneath it—jealousy, maybe, sharp and raw. The tension pulses down our bond, brimming with something unspoken.

I take a slow breath and send him calm, wrapping a gentle warmth around the jagged edge of his emotions, hoping to smooth it out. His shoulders ease just slightly, though I can tell the storm isn’t entirely gone.

“Trouble,” Tomas begins, ignoring the vampires entirely. “Your family is technically under the rule of Sylvie DuFour. As supes, you can’t opt out just because you haven’t presented yourselves to her in New Orleans. You’re unregistered. With all of us moving to Greenbriar while the dust settles in Elba… you can’t continue to fly under the radar.”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “All right, someone bottom-line it for me. Are we going to owe back taxes? Is she a threat to the twins? Can I go make nice with her, and she’ll let us disappear back into obscurity?”

Tomas scratches at his stubbly beard, his voice resigned. “Bottom line? She’s not going to like Grayson residing in her territory, and she may deny our request to live here.”

Grayson stiffens beside me, his jaw tightening. “I hardly think I’m her biggest concern.”

Tomas starts to argue, but something clicks in my mind. “Does she know about Daddy and the twins? Does she know about Arcadia?”

Rurik and Leon speak almost simultaneously, their voices overlapping. “Who is Arcadia?”

Grayson’s attention sharpens on me, and I feel the weight of Ben and Shadow leaning forward expectantly, like they’ve been waiting for this moment. But why?

“She’s a shifter who was trapped out in the woods behind our family’s farm.”

“What kind of shifter?” from Grayson, and “Trapped?” from Rurik hit me at the same time. I raise my hands, cutting them both off. “Okay, I’ll explain.”

Val and Stefan enter, leaning casually against the backs of the occupied seats. The cabin isn’t cramped, but with all these big energies pressing in, it feels like the walls are closing in on me.

“Every single one of you has to promise this stays in our House—bloodline, whatever the fiddly-fuck you want to call it.” My eyes sweep over the room, my voice firm and unyielding. “I don’t want to threaten you, but consider it implicit. I don’t mess around where my family is concerned.”

Nods ripple through the group, Shadow’s and Ben’s approval anchoring me. Mishka’s still drawing, his hand moving steadily over the page, but his attention is locked on me, completely riveted.

Fuck. I said fuck again, didn’t I?

“My little sisters are five years old, and we very recently discovered that they’re psychic. They can read minds.” There’s shifting behind me, a few whispers, but I press on. “My father gets feelings about outcomes. He describes it as a kind of synesthesia—textures and tastes, good ones and bad ones. He’sworked hard to keep attention off us, so your vampire queen taking an interest is pretty much his worst nightmare.”

Rurik’s eyes narrow, his expression brimming with questions. I cut him off before he can ask.

“Arcadia,” I continue, “is probably a Hesperide. And if they can shift into big metal birds, then yeah, she definitely is.”

Rurik’s mouth drops open. “She’s a Stymphalian shifter?”

No explosion of surprise from Grayson through the bond. Someone’s been catching him up. I hope it was Tomas.

Ben leans forward, his tone measured and careful. “When we rescued her, she was in a tree. So probably part dryad, too.”

“In a tree?”

“There was a flood.”

Rurik waits for more, but Ben just smiles, a knowing curve to his lips that answers nothing.

Rurik turns to Tomas. “How…?”

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