Page 85 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I move her braid back onto her shoulder, my palm sliding to her throat, gripping gently. She swallows, her breath hitching. Her expression softens, but beneath it, something remains—something entrenched, clouded, and heavy.

Her fingers trace my jaw, hesitating. I sense the shift immediately. The air between us changes, a weight settlingbetween her and me. I drop my hand, brow furrowing as I tip her chin up, searching her face.

“What’s going on?” I murmur, my voice low. My eyes scan hers, looking for an answer. “Is this about Louisiana?”

She bites her lip, guilt flashing across her expression. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she whispers, looking away for a moment before meeting my eyes, her regret plain to see.

I raise an eyebrow, a flicker of concern sparking in my chest. “Tell me.”

She sighs, guilt pooling in her features. “I… put myself in danger today. I didn’t mean to. It just happened. I ignored my phone and went to the farmhouse to see my brother… alone. I didn’t think anyone would—I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

My hand tightens on her waist, heat flaring into something hotter, darker. My monster bristles, protective instincts roaring to life. “You went out alone?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, the thought of her vulnerable and exposed twisting my stomach.

She nods, her eyes steady but regretful. “I just needed space. I needed to think. And… I know it wasn’t smart.” She exhales, shaky, her gaze pleading for understanding. “Tomas found me, and he…” Her cheeks flush crimson, the color spreading down her neck.

“He?”

Her voice lowers. “He wasn’t happy. And now we have, umm, an appointment to…” She squirms, embarrassment etched across her face, but her scent blooms, sweet and heated.

A spark of anger flickers in my chest, but something else smolders beneath it—something far more dangerous. The thought of Tomas and me, our focus locked on Sunday, our power mingling and building between us—it pulls at me.

I’m not happy she put herself in danger, but I can’t ignore the opportunity this presents. A chance to share a scene with Tomas,to connect with him under the guise of disciplining our shared mate. I shouldn’t want this. But the idea of surrendering to that possibility, even for a moment, sends a thrill through me that I can’t ignore.

She closes her eyes, her forehead resting against mine. “I understand now,” she whispers, her voice thick with contrition. “Believe me, Tomas made it abundantly clear. I just… I’m sorry, baby. I messed up.”

I let her apology settle between us. My fingers trace a slow line down her spine. Our bond thrums with what her scent has already revealed—remorse laced with heady anticipation. Ahh, my sweet mate, perfuming so beautifully at the thought of her wolf dominating her.

My lips curl into a slow, predatory smile. “And I’m sure you’ll feel much better after your Alpha administers your punishment.” My thumb brushes her lower lip, my gaze sharp with intent. “Go get him. I think I’d like to watch.”

Chapter Thirty Four

Painfully Adorable

— Grayson —

We have a saying among vampires: “The sun casts no shadow the moon hasn’t yet embraced.”

It’s a hollow maxim, a self-deception we wear like armor, pretending we’re beyond the mess and novelty of mortal emotions. It’s what we murmur when the spark of life dulls, when eternity’s weight feels heavier than its promise—as if we’ve siphoned every drop of wonder from existence and returned empty-handed.

It’s also a lie. A story we whisper to numb the ache of endlessness.

Because the truth—the painful,beautifultruth—is that the possibility of something new is what keeps the shadows from swallowing us whole. I release a slow breath, clearing space in my mind for the possibility of something new.

Tomas is barely past thirty—a pup, by nearly any measure. But his judgment is steady and seasoned, a predator’s patience tempered by human resolve. Dominance hums through him with an authority so intrinsic it flows with each breath. But there’s something else there, too—a connection I’m hesitant to define. It’s not rooted in his power, nor even in what Sunday means to us, but in what he has grown to mean to me.

It’s not just about dominance and submission. Not tonight. Not with him. I’ve spent centuries mastering the dance ofcontrol, learning every nuance of power dynamics. But all that knowledge feels irrelevant in the face of this pull toward him.

It’s time to stop pretending. Pretending is what landed me in Elba. Pretending is how Vivien was taken from me, how I lost Lys, and how I almost lost my Little Cat.

My monster snarls, recoiling at the reminder of how close we came to losing everything—how thin the thread was that kept Sunday in my world. He bristles at the thought of bowing to the wolf, of allowing anyone dominion over us. Yet the part of me worn ragged by endless vigilance, whispers that this is different. Thatheis different. Maybe this isn’t weakness at all. Maybe it’s the beginning of something profound, something worth changing our rules for.

Tomas’ dominance isn’t a threat; it’s a refuge—a rare chance to surrender, to trust someone strong enough to bear the weight I’ve carried alone for far too long.

I remind myself that dominance isn’t measured in centuries. It’s measured by how one wields authority—by how they cherish their partners, honor their bonds, and nurture that trust.

And so, I’ll let him take the reins. I’ll allow myself the uncomfortable,yet thrilling, vulnerability of being guided—of stepping into unfamiliar shadows and welcoming what waits within them.

Sunday settles beside me on the couch. Her spine is rigid, her shoulders knotted with tension. She doesn’t lean into me, doesn’t seek the comfort of my hand. Instead, her teeth worry at her lower lip, that soft pink flesh caught between porcelain edges.

---