Page 72 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I’m still shaking my head at her behavior. I expected a clash between her and Sunday, maybe some barbed words, maybe claws. Instead, she cast me aside for a man with the depth of a puddle and nearly the same level of hygiene. She claimed she was “off dick,” yet she returned from Dae completelydickmatized.

She says she isn’t fucking him—and maybe that’s true—but she’s certainly been thinking about it.He’s not that charming.

The only upside to this shitshow of a reunion—the most disappointing since the Spice Girls—is that Tomas’ new housebarely warrants a footnote. Tonight, it’s just an extra sprinkle of salt in the wound, where any other evening it would have been the headline, the beautifully appointed dagger twisting in my side.

The drive to the new “packhouse” is fraught, my patience worn to a thread. I can’t help letting some of my frustration bleed out. My throat is dry, my stomach a hollow pit, and being trapped here between the two most tempting beings on earth isn’t helping.

Tomas drives, his eyes locked on the road, while I try to process this latest development. I’ve already bought us a perfectly good home; if he’d mentioned he had something else planned, I would’ve thanked him for his foresight and offered to pay for it. But he didn’t, and now here we are. How do I not see this as him building his own pack, taking my mates with him?

Fucking Tomas.He’s forgotten his place, and I fully intend to remind him.

As if that weren’t enough, I’m also too damn big to be sandwiched in the middle of the backseat. My knees are practically in my throat, while both my mates flood me with psychic valium. And that makes me want to tear into something… or someone, just to spite them.

In the rearview mirror, I catch Sunday’s eyes. I’m actively ignoring her, and it’s not childish—it’s a matter of principle. She gives me a gentle smile, pushing calm into our bondspace, trying to soothe the storm she senses brewing.

“Grayson, how do we fix this for you?” Her voice is soft, careful, soaked in concern. She lays a hand on my arm. “I can tell you’re hungry, so let’s handle that before you go to sleep.”

“I don’t sleep, Sunday.I die. Something I’ve been doing every night for nearly twenty-four hundred years without your help.” The sarcasm slices, just as I intended, and she reacts beautifully.

“Hey, asshole.” She punches me in the arm, making Ben glance our way. “You and I are about to have a real fucking problem.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sureTomascan solve it.”

“Oh, absolutely, he can,” Sunday snaps. “Every single time, he pushes his own needs aside to make sure the rest of us have what we need. He’s not some multi-millennia man-child.”

“I bought you your childhood dream home—with room for your whole harem. What else do you want from me?”

“Not a fuckingthing.”

“I’d give you Vivien’s number so you two can compare notes on how disappointing I am, but I don’t seem to have it anymore.”

Sunday rolls her eyes. “I can’t imagine why. Considering her Maker is such a delight to be around.”

“I do live to serve,” Leaning back, my head thuds against the headrest. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself. The hunger gnaws at me, an animal clawing inside my chest, more ravenous the longer I think about it.

Xavier mutters, “Diosa mía, todos aquí están locos.”Goddess, everyone here is crazy.

When we finally pull up to the farmhouse, I nearly stumble out of the car, desperate for space. Their scents cling to me. My monster bristles, certain that they’re ours, that they should be baring their throats and thanking us for the privilege of feeding.

But instead, they’re unloading leftovers and souvenirs from Dae. Yes, the imbecile actually treated his time as a fugitive in another realm like a trip to Coney Island.

Sunday stands on the stone steps, the farmhouse behind her. She levels me with a withering look. “Well, you’re a real treat tonight, Grayson.”

I bite back a retort, but the bitterness lingers like the taste of old blood. She sighs, exasperated, throwing her hands up. “Fine. I’m going to bed. Someone make sure The Emperor makes itinside before dawn,” she mutters to the others before turning on her heel and heading toward the house.

Ben trails after her, his quiet nod in my direction feeling more like dismissal than anything resembling sympathy.

Xavier lingers, that half-amused, half-annoyed expression they wear so damn well. Their emerald gaze meets mine, and I let a pulse of regret slip down our bond. They lift an eyebrow, the edge of their irritation softening just a fraction. With a slight nod, they finally follow the others, leaving me alone in the cooling night air.

I huff, running a hand through my hair, irritation gnawing at me—now tinged with guilt. For a moment, I let myself wallow in it, but the silence is unbearable. I’ve carved out this distance with my own hands, the hunger making that abyss feel darker and wider. I shove it down, focusing on the quiet that’s settled over the farmhouse.

Even I have to admit it: Tomas found a beautiful place for his pack.

Eventually, I slip inside, the sting of my own foolishness taking the edge off my frustration. The Alpha wolf waits for me, leaning against a wall, his gaze cutting straight through me. I pause, my eyes lingering on him. He’s changed. There’s a quiet strength to him now. He doesn’t bow, he doesn’t flinch—doesn’t parse his words or lower his eyes.

“Leaving Viv there was hard, I know,” he says much too gently.

A cutting response hovers on my tongue, but I let it die there, nodding instead.

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