Page 49 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

“Ben,” he says again, just one word, and in less than a heartbeat, I’m caught. My big shifter moves with fluid precision,his strong hand capturing both my wrists and pinning them effortlessly above my head.

“Wait,” I pant, my breath coming fast. Grayson arches an expectant brow, his expression unreadable but intense. “Let me take off some of my clothes.”

“Allof your clothes,” Shadow corrects smoothly, their voice low and commanding. The suddenness of it makes me blink.

Ben releases my wrists, and when I look up, he’s gazing down at me like I’m his favorite candy, just waiting to be unwrapped.

Grayson’s half-smile sharpens, transforming into something distinctly predatory. My pulse jumps as his eyes slide to mine, and I feel the weight of all their expectations settle over me. I swallow hard, a thrill racing down my spine as I reach for the hem of my sweater, fingers trembling slightly as I begin to obey.

Chapter Twenty One

Devoured

— Xavier —

Grayson’s voice cuts through the room, smooth and commanding. “Excellent idea. Remove all your clothing, then lay back on the bed. I have something in mind.”

Sunday hesitates, her fingers curling around the hem of her sweater. She glances at Ben, then at me, and finally back to Grayson, her cheeks flushed. “Okay, but… shouldn’t we wait for Tomas to get back?”

I sigh, my patience thinning. “He’ll be gone for hours yet,¿verdad?Waiting won’t do anything but make him feel guiltier when he gets back.” My jaguar rumbles in agreement, eager to move things along.

What surprises me is Ben. He’s usually the peacekeeper, the one who smooths out wrinkles. But now, he’s the first to speak. “Tommy made a choice to leave. He wouldn’t want us waiting around for him. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a horny bastard. That’s just how he is.”

Sunday fidgets. “Fine. Someone shut the windows then. It’s gettin’ chilly.”

I cross the room, rolling my eyes as I go.So demanding.Open them, close them…

The heavy old panes resist me, their pegs stubborn, but I wrestle them shut with a satisfying click. I leave the fourth one cracked just slightly—enough for a whisper of fresh air to slip in.

When I turn back, she’s already undressing. Her sweater and camisole are gone, and she’s working the clasp of her bra. She kicks off her wedge heels, then slides her jeans and panties down her legs. One hand rests on Ben’s shoulder to steady herself as he kneels, drawing the fabric off her legs, his hands skimming her bare thighs—reverent, almost worshipful.

The way he kneels for her—the rightness of it—always does something to me. But I keep my face calm, my jaguar pacing behind my eyes.

Grayson’s eyes lock with mine, unblinking. He gives a single nod, the barest acknowledgment, but still, something warm settles in my chest.Fuck all this approval-craving nonsense.

Falling for Sunday and Ben? That was easy. Natural, like gravity pulling me home. But this—this fixation on a vamp who probably had a pet dinosaur? That’s a lot harder to untangle.

How he slipped past my defenses and earned my jaguar’s trust, I’ll never fully understand. Yet here I am—the part of me that prowled alone through betrayal and pain now trusts him. Craves him, if I’m being honest. And I try to be… at least with myself.

He makes me want things I swore off by the time I was sixteen. Makes me need him in ways that terrify me, ways that have nothing to do with venom or even sex. Goddess help me, because what more could he ever want from someone like me?

Before I realize it, I’ve moved, the distance between us evaporating. It’s not deliberate, yet here I am, standing in front of him, caught in the pull of his stare. Heat rises to my face, embarrassment prickling at the edges.

Before I can retreat, he tilts his head.

The sharp curve of his jaw catches the light—the kind of angles sculptors dream of but only nature can create. His cool hand brushes mine—just barely, like an afterthought. That fleeting contact settles something jagged inside me, and it’s maddening that he knew instinctively how much I needed it.

When I glance back, Sunday stands there, her eyes flicking between us, hesitant, charged with unspoken questions. She finally breaks the silence. 'So, where do you want me?' Grayson doesn’t answer right away. He watches her, gaze half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curving into a lazy, knowing smile. He commands the room without a word, as if born to it.It’s maddening.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve been thinking about watching our Little Cat feast on that glorious cunt. How does that sound?”

Sunday’s voice turns thin and breathy. “Umm, really good.”

“But there have to be rules.” His smirk is a weapon sheathed in charm.

“Like…?”

“Like you’ll keep your hands above your head. And while I usually love hearing everysweetsound you make, tonight, I think your mouth should stay full.”

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