Page 126 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I blink, caught off guard. “Why?”

“The full moon. My wolf. You.” His lips twitch—a failed attempt at a smile. “You’re so close, and my wolf is desperate to get closer.”

His voice catches, low and raw. He drags a hand down his face, as if trying to hide some part of himself from me. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t know if I can control him.”

A memory drifts in, unbidden. Tomas’ wolf, snarling and wild, lunging at me when Grayson’s pod was destroyed. Those lupine eyes, furious and burning like the sun. For a split second, I’d been afraid he would rip me apart. But he hadn’t.

I wave the memory away, letting it fade into the shadows where it belongs. I replace it with one from last night.

Tomas’ wolf, sprawled beside me as we fell asleep. Grayson’s arm resting across my waist, his fingers idly buried in our wolf’s thick coat. Those same gilded eyes blinking at me sleepily—soft and content—as dawn crept over the horizon.

“I’m not afraid of you or your wolf, Alpha.”

His eyes flare, the metallic shine expanding like I’ve called him out—and I suppose I have.

“You smell like you’re supposed to be mine.” His voice is low, almost reverent, the words brushing over me like an invocation. Then his jaw tightens, and something darker seeps into his tone. “And believe me, I love Ben—I do—but right now? Goddess help me, I just want to bury his scent beneath mine.”

His words hit like a spark, igniting something restless and sharp in my chest. My breath catches, my fingers twisting in my sleeve. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond to that kind of naked need. Truly, I don’t know what to do with my own.

Then he moves.

He leans forward, his face pressing into the curve of my neck. A shiver races down my spine, sharp and electric, as his nose skims along my pulse, his scent wrapping around me. I exhale a sound that’s somewhere between a needy whimper and a repressed moan.

He freezes.

His breath hitches as he pulls back, hands curling into fists, fighting some internal battle. The air between us feels colder without him there, the ache of that distance catching me off guard. My chest tightens, and a frown tugs at my lips.

“Why did you stop?” My voice has an edge—whinier, needier than I mean it to sound.

“A night like this,” he starts, voice tightly controlled, “it brings everything to the surface. My wolf…” He exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. “He’s all instinct right now, and I’m struggling to keep the possessive, horny bastard in line.” He laughs hollowly and looks away.

I blink. Twice. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t. But when you touch me—when you look at me like that…” He trails off, his voice tight, teetering on the edge of control.

“Look at you like what?”

His gaze snaps to mine, sharper now, a low, rumbling growl vibrating from his chest. “Like you’re challenging us. Daring us to claim all that sweetness for our own.”

As the words leave his lips, his eyes drop, lingering on my mouth a beat too long. My tongue darts out, wetting them. The intensity in his gaze is impossible to ignore—a hunger barely leashed. A thrill races through me.

I laugh softly, brushing off his words like I don’t feel them sinking into my skin. “I’m not daring you. I’m inviting you… it’s a totally different vibe.”

“Are you going to drop your eyes, Trouble, or keep challenging me to do something?”

A slow grin tugs at my lips. I lean forward just enough to test him, my voice light and teasing. “Oh, you mean… like this?”

I know it’s wrong. They’ve all warned me not to mess with the wolf, but something inside me can’t help it. I enjoy it entirely too much—the way he teeters on the edge of control, the rare moments he falls.

I meet his eyes, and their aureate glow swells, his pupils shrinking into sharp, predatory slits. The change begins in his face—subtle at first, but inexorable. His nose elongates slightly, the lines of his mouth stretching into something that isn’t quite Tomas, isn’t quite wolf. That in-between monster that only he can become. Beautiful. Terrifying.

And then I’m not holding Tomas’ gaze anymore. I’m not challenging him, not teasing.

It happens so fast, I barely register it. One moment, Tomas is crouched in front of me, his body taut—all potential energy, ready to pounce. The next, I’m against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head, his chest pressing into mine with enough force to steal my breath—but not my sense of safety.

Wood smoke and apple, sharp and wild, flood my senses. A low growl rumbles through him, vibrating into me, setting every nerve on edge and making me ache. My body feels loose, liquid, fearless.

He looms closer, his form hunched yet towering, his height nearly matching Ben’s. He takes in mouthfuls of my scent, his breath hot and rough against my neck, each inhale fraying his control. His fingers twitch against the beadboard wall, claws half-formed, catching faintly in the grooves of the wood.

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