Page 48 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Ben pushes away from the wall, closing the distance to Xavier. His hand finds the small of their back, and for a split second, their eyes soften. His fingers slide up to the nape of their neck, pressing just enough to be felt. Their pupils dilate, a needy shiver rippling through them as they lean closer. It’s a quiet exchange, intimate in a way that makes me want to look away.

Taking Sunday’s hand again, I tug her gently up the stairs. “Let’s settle in. Then, I promise, we can discuss all manner of vices.”

“Oh, I intend to,” she murmurs, her voice a promise.

We reach the door to the master suite, and I pause, my hand resting on the ornate brass knob. “Ready to see your room, Lover?”

I take in the three of them—Ben, steady and grounded, with Xavier melting against him, eyes still dark from Ben’s touch. And Sunday—her energy sparking, a magnetic pull drawing us all closer.

She giggles and pushes past me, dragging the others behind her. I linger for a heartbeat, glancing down the hallway. My monster stirs restlessly, searching for something—or someone. His absence itches beneath my skin, a longing for completion I can’t quite shake.

Chapter Twenty

Monkey in the Middle

— Sunday —

The room at the end of the hall behind the double doors is called “The Midnight Garden.” I step inside and immediately know it’s not my style. The fresh paint on the walls gives off an acrid tang, as if they finished only hours ago. The dark, almost forest-green color is meant to be elegant, but it makes the room feel cramped despite its generous floor plan. And then there’s the furniture. The pieces are massive—particularly the bed, which looms in the center like an altar to a libidinous god.

“It’s an Alaskan King,” Ben offers, his tone carrying a hint of pride.

“It looks like it’s eight or nine feet across.” I turn to Grayson and raise an eyebrow. “Did you arrange the pack-sized bed?”

He shakes his head, lips quirking into a small, almost embarrassed smile. “No, this was the honeymoon suite. I just asked them to please do away with the white… everything.” I get that. White linens and vampires don’t mix. He waves a hand, gesturing to the walls, his nose wrinkling. “I had hoped we could get settled in here tonight, but the smell…”

The room reeks of fresh paint—a cloying, chemical odor that settles in the back of my throat and flavors every breath. Energy stirs beneath my skin, the urge to do something with it to fix this hard to ignore.

“Shadow, can you get those windows open?” I gesture to the four large double windows on the far wall.

They look puzzled, but a glance to Grayson seems to push them into action. With Ben’s help, the two of them soon have the heavy glass casements lifted, propped open with the aged brass pegs at the bottom.

The fresh night air sweeps in, carrying with it the thick scent of magnolias from the giant vases scattered around the room. It’s a welcome relief as it begins to rise above the sharp tang of fresh paint. The screens keep out the worst of the night’s winged visitors, though I can already see a couple of small moths fluttering by, drawn to the promise of what lies inside.

“Um… Babe?” Ben’s voice rises an octave when he feels the pull of magic gathering around me, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

I give him a quick wink before grounding myself the way Sam taught me, focusing on the paint. It’s still off-gassing, which means it hasn’t fully dried, and I latch onto that moisture—pulling at it the way I do when I dry my hair. The air thickens almost instantly, growing heavy with the scent of latex and solvents. I hear Shadow let out a strangled cough, and they and Ben stumble back toward the doorway, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor.

Grayson stays close, though, watching me with a mix of fascination and mild wariness, as if he’s watching a wild creature. He doesn’t need to breathe, so the fumes aren’t bothering him. Lucky undead.

A rush of power courses through me, and I decide to take it a step further. I focus on the air itself, on the fumes that have filled the room, and exhale sharply—wooshing all the stale, chemical-laden air out of the two center windows. It leaves the room with a hiss, and for a split second, there’s nothing but silence. Then, like a fan pulling air back in, the two windows at the ends inhale deeply, dragging in fresh air from the outside.

The curtains ripple in the sudden wind, a muted flapping sound that lasts just a moment, like wings settling. One of the vases—tall and top-heavy—wobbles on its base before tipping over, spilling magnolia flowers across the table and onto the floor. White petals scatter across the darkly polished wood, and the heady, sweet scent fills the space, mingling with the night breeze.

Grayson’s eyes glint with amusement as he crosses his arms. “I see we’re redecorating already.”

I wipe my hands on my jeans, stepping back as the tension eases from my shoulders. “Just making it livable—or, you know, breathable. You can thank me later.”

That glint in his eye sharpens, a playful edge slipping into his tone. “Oh no, Lover, I think we need to thank you now.”

The mood shifts in an instant as my vampire advances on me. I put the bed between us, prolonging the game.

“Ben, grab her.” The command leaves no room for argument. I glance at Ben, curious to see how he’ll respond. He doesn’t hesitate for long and then he’s crossing the space between us, slipping behind me with practiced ease.

I make a break for it, crawling across the bed, but Shadow blocks my escape on the other side. A wave of delight surges through the bond—his shadow cat is thrilled, practically vibrating with the excitement of trapping me between them.

Seems I’m the monkey in the middle.

I rise up on my knees, retreating toward the headboard as my heart thumps harder in my chest. Grayson looks downright predatory now, his mismatched eyes glinting with a reddish-brown hue, his fangs fully extended and pressing softly into his bottom lip. He moves with a slow, deliberate grace, each step narrowing the distance between us.

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