Page 4 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

“How long has she been out?”

Tomas answers, “Almost ten minutes.” He closes his eyes and exhales. “I’m sorry about your Maker. He was really trying to help us at the end. It was a senseless loss.” He catches my eye again, and I can feel my monster leaning forward, examining the wolf who seems to have misplaced his usual deference and submission.

Rather than dwell on Lys, my eyes dart to the familiar Inuit tattoo on Tomas’ shoulder and bicep—a striking design in thick black ink. The raven’s large, watchful eyes gleam in the dim light, its wings sweeping in bold, intricate lines. It’s a symbol of strength, of survival—and it’s unchanged, even amidst the chaos surrounding us.

Ben interrupts. “Maybe she needs blood. What if she’s hurt inside and that’s why she’s so hot?”

Rurik steps closer, his eyes sharp with a need I can’t name. Valentine watches with calculated calm, ready to act.

I project toward them both, though I shouldn’t have to, “She’s my mate. If she needs blood, it will be from me.”

I murmur to her, “Gods, Lover. I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I? Running off to collect vampires like Precious Moments figurines.”Don’t ask, Vivien had a phase.

At first, I think I imagine it—the faintest pressure against my fingers—but then she squeezes them again. I react instinctively, bringing her hand to my lips, my heart pounding. Ben and Tomas lean in.

“That’s it, my love,” I murmur.

Her lashes flutter, and a half-smile tugs at her lips. I watch every subtle shift in her expression, trying to etch it into memory. Then her eyes open, and with them, a flood of images—her across a hundred lifetimes—tumbles through my mind. I shake my head, and she reaches for my face.

“You’re really here?” she whispers.

“I really am.”

“I think I got flamed by a demon.”

“Not a demon,” I laugh. “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Undoubtedly, as often as you’ll allow.”

“Well, I might allow a lot of kisses.”

Xavier appears beside us, and Sunday turns to them, then glances at Ben and Tomas. She gives a tired but genuine smile, enough warmth in it to light the room.

“I can’t believe we’re all together again, finally.”

The others exchange glances, their expressions softening, each of us feeling the relief in our own way. Ben kisses her free hand, while I grip the other, refusing to let go. Tomas rubs her feetabsentmindedly, his gaze gentle. It’s a far cry from the prickly peace they enjoyed when I was last with them.

Sunday suddenly tries to sit up, urgency in her voice. “Is Mishka okay?”

Xavier leans in, kissing her forehead. “He’s shaken, but he’s worried about you. Val’s taking him back to the castle once he sees you’re okay.”

Ben moves to let her see past his shoulder. Mishka gives her a tentative wave before shifting into a gray mouse and racing toward Ben.

Seriously, I really need someone to explain what in the nine circles is going on here.

Ben holds him cupped in his hands, rubbing a finger across his back gently. “I told you she would be fine,” he whispers.

Then Rurik reaches for Mishka, leaving meentirelybaffled. “Come, Little Mouse, it’s time for cheese and a long rest.”

Again, what in the world is happening here?

Ben carefully passes the child in mouse form to my brother. The Tsar of Volga, the cruel and uncompromising vampire I’ve known for almost two thousand years, pats his mouse-filled pocket, dips his head to Sunday, and turns to leave.

Sunday watches them go with unmistakeable fondness in her eyes. Then she looks back at us.

“And we killed Roxana?” she asks hopefully.

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