Page 131 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

His weight presses me into the ground, the cool earth grounding the heat of his body. Each thrust is instinctive, merciless, and all-consuming, the rhythm echoing the ancient pull of the moon above us. The forest holds its breath, the goddess’s light spilling over us, a blessing pulling at our blood, our magic, the very core of who we are.

His teeth scrape against my skin, and I realize—this isn’t just passion or instinct. This is the bond made flesh, the fulfillment of something written in the stars and carved into our souls. This is destiny, inevitable and divine.

When he bites, it won’t just mark me. It will claim me in every way. And I’m ready.

His teeth sink into the curve of my shoulder—a searing pain that blossoms into heat and light, surging through me like wildfire. My vision tilts, the world spilling away until there is only him, me, and the moon.

And then he howls again.

The sound rips through the clearing, fierce and resonant, but this time, it carries me with it. It pulls me into a vast expanse of memory and instinct, a deep well of echoes and shadows.

Something inside me breaks loose—no, not breaks. It overflows.

My magic, wild and untamed, floods outward, a torrent I can’t and won’t control. The trees seem to stretch taller, their branches clawing at the sky with an impossible hunger. Leaves burst into vibrant green before shifting to amber, falling, and budding anew—cycling through all four seasons in a single breath.

At the edges of the tarp, flowers erupt from the earth. Tiny, tentative at first, then bold and riotous, they unfurl their petals as though they’ve been waiting for this exact moment. Some creep over the tarp, merging it with the forest floor, claiming this space as sacred.

Above us, lights bloom in the darkness—fireflies born of something otherworldly. They drift and sway, glowing with the essence of my magic and the bond we’ve forged. Tiny stars brought to earth, a celestial reply to his lupine call.

And I feel it—the Wild Hunt. The ancient packs running beneath the moon, their voices weaving together like a double helix, each note twining perfectly with another. A chorus of power and unity reverberates through the night, shaking the marrow of my bones.

I’m not just me anymore. I’m a part of them—every wolf that’s ever run, every howl that’s ever pierced the darkness in triumph, pain, or devotion. The collective memory of the Hunt surges through me, a river of wild, unbroken history.

The goddess’s light pours over us, her blessing sinking into my very core as the Hunt becomes mine.Ours.

His howl shifts, soaring to a crescendo that feels like it could splinter the heavens, and I’m right there with him—our voicesmelding, the song of the wolves in my blood, my breath, my bones. My magic pulses outward, igniting the lights above us to blaze brighter, the flowers below bursting into bloom in a jubilant frenzy, as if the forest itself is exalting in our bond.

For the first time, I understand what it means to truly belong—not just to him, but to this ancient rhythm, this endless cycle of moon and hunt, life and bond.

The heat of his breath lingers on my neck, and my body responds before thought can catch up. It’s instinct, primal and pure. My teeth ache, pressing against my lips, sharp and unfamiliar.

I don’t hesitate. I bite him back.

Not hard, but enough to feel the bond snap into place, pulling tight around us like an unbreakable knot. My mouth fills with the tang of his skin and the seep of his blood, tinged with something dark, potent, and powerful.

For a heartbeat, I feel his wolf—furious, untamed, and now, undeniably mine.

His growl rumbles low and deep, a sound that should terrify me—but doesn’t. The earth seems to tremble beneath us, his claws sinking into the dirt, anchoring him. When his molten-orange eyes meet mine, they shimmer with something new.

Pride.

It’s raw, fierce, and unmistakable—an unspoken acknowledgment that I’ve met him on his wildest ground, and he sees me, accepts me as his equal.

Then the world tilts sideways. My head spins as the venom unfurls through my veins—a wild firestorm that strips away hesitation and leaves only pure instinct. That untamed part of me surges to the forefront, uncoiling like a predator finally unleashed.

The last thing I see before she takes over are his eyes, molten and unyielding, reflecting the wildness now mirrored in my own.

Chapter Fourty Seven

Useless

— Sunday —

I wake slowly with the chill of the early morning biting at my skin. The ground beneath me is damp, the scent of wet moss and earth filling my nose as a shiver racks my body. A faint mist curls low to the ground, its ghostly fingers brushing against my bare arms.

The world around me feels muted, the forest shrouded in soft gray light, the fog clinging to the air like a veil. I shift slightly, and my fingers find fur—warm and solid against the cold. Three shapes surround me, their breaths condensing in the frigid air, rising in soft, even puffs.

Ben’s massive bulk radiates heat like a living furnace, his thick fur a shield of warmth against my back, warding off the morning chill. My jaguar lies curled against my legs, their body coiled tightly, a sentinel against the mist’s icy creep. Their sleek, deep brown coat is patterned with black rosettes that shimmer faintly as the first rays of sunlight pierce through the trees, dissolving the shadows.

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