Page 93 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “I think I got exactly what I was hopin’ for.”

She pulls us both closer, her touch both balancing and incendiary. The moment settles into something deeper—trust, connection, and the thrill of uncharted territory.

Grayson’s voice brushes her ear. “Is this what you wanted, Lover?” He dips his head to her breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth. I hold back a groan at the sight of it.

Her breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes,” she whispers.

I close the distance, our mouths about to meet over heated flesh—

BANG.

The door flies open with a crash that rattles the walls.

“You stopped texting,” Ben says, exasperated. “Radio silence for over an hour.”

Xavier smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Told you they were mid-orgy.”

Sunday’s forehead drops to my chest and she reaches for a blanket behind us. “No, we weren’t.” She looks up, eyes narrowed. “You two have terrible timing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Xavier wedges themself between us, lifting Gray’s arm and pulling Sunday’s legs over their lap,our resident sex pest in full form.

I stand, stretch, and adjust myself unapologetically. My gaze lingers on Sunday—flushed cheeks, the scent of contentment and lingering arousal wrapping around me. She’s happy. Relaxed.

“I’ll be upstairs. You four have fun.”

To my surprise, Grayson kisses his bonded before leaving her with the others, who, somehow, have produced a bag of cookies.

He follows me, his eyes scanning my back, my ass. He’s not even trying to hide it. My wolf prances with smug satisfaction.

At the top of the stairs, I turn, waiting for him. The wooden door closes softly behind us, and in the dark of the hall closet, the scent of cedar and smoke fills the air.

He steps closer, then moves me—gently—against the wall. The rough wood presses into my back. This time, his mouth is softer, a slow exploration rather than a battle. His cock lays heavy against mine, and I can feel the frantic beat of his heart beneath his chest.

This moment is ours. The beginning of intimacy outside the space we’ve shared with them.

It seems impossible that we can have both of them. But if Sunday has taught me anything, it’s to dare to dream—go big, or go home.

So, I dare. I dream.

And I kiss him back.

Chapter Thirty Six

Some People Send Flowers

— Xavier —

The morning is annoyingly bright—the kind of light that makes everything feel too sharp, too honest.

We got up early, leaving Grayson snoring below the packhouse while the rest of us turned our attention to the townhouse—trying to make the place feel like something closer to a home. I’m whistling, mostly to annoy Tomas, enjoying the weather, and keeping an eye on Sunday, Ben, and Mishka—all my favoritechingonesright where I can see them.

Yeah, sure, there’s a trip to New Orleans later with another delightful vampire royal to deal with. And of course, there’s the looming threat of Texas making a comeback. He’s like the world’s worst ex—the kind who doesn’t just text you at three am, but might also leave you chained to a radiator while they commit some light genocide.

My jaguar huffs, a mix of irritation and unease. Bluffing.Mostly.

It’s not like we walked away unscathed last time. The reminder sits heavy in my chest. I can’t quite shake the fear, no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

But here’s the weird part—I still feel hopeful.

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