Page 3 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

For a moment, the rest of the world fades away. There are no enemies, no monster clamoring for control—just My Little Cat, and the chasm stretching between us. Their blood is a single strand, stretching across the gap, reverberating with echoes of the bond we once shared.

The blood soothes the fire in my veins. I pull back, sealing the wound with a gentle lick. Xavier smiles, eyes half-lidded, dazed. “Better?”

I nod, brushing my lips against theirs. “Better,” I murmur, “But we still need to find Sunday.”

Tension ripples through the room. Rurik stumbles, his face twisting in shock. Stefan drops to his knees, a cry ripping from his throat. I feel it too—the bond to Lys snapping with violent force, shaking me to the core.

Stefan’s shoulders heave, tears streaming down his face. Rurik pulls him close, murmuring words I can’t hear. Valentine pales, turning to the door, eyes wide.

Aiden bursts in, Gretchen at his side, scanning the room before his eyes land on Stefan. He touches his brother’s shoulder, then turns to me, his gaze narrowing. Before I can speak, another wave hits—fire and fear, lighting up the golden link to my mate. Xavier meets my eyes, their own wide with terror.

“Sunday,” they whisper.

“She’s still there, isn’t she?” My voice is barely audible, tangled with fear as my monster draws closer to the plasma-hot tether. It reaches out a claw, then draws it back as if scalded.

Xavier swallows, nodding. “Yes. But we need to hurry.”

Rurik stands, his expression steely. “I promised her. We go now.”

Valentine steps forward. “I’ll come.”

Xavier rolls their eyes. “¿A quién le importa quién viene?We need someone to lead us. All I know is she’s somewhere below us.” (Who cares who’s going?)

Aiden glances at me. “Can you run?”

I barely register his words, too focused on Sunday’s bond—the fragile golden thread that tethers us. Xavier answers for me. “If he can’t, I’ll pull him through the shadows.”

***

We move fast. Gretchen stays behind with Aiden and Stefan, who’s still incapacitated by Lys’ demise. The rest of us, even Valentine, race through the twisting passageways with preternatural swiftness.

We are an elite guard, our strength forged in blood and the gifts of our Maker. The suddenness of Lys’ passing leaves my monster in shock, grief settling into a cold, jagged space within me.

His death lingers in the air, an unwelcome thought I shove aside. It’s too soon, but grief can wait—Sunday comes first.

The journey becomes a haze of torchlight and narrow passageways. My focus remains fixed on the bond with my unconscious mate, its heat a lifeline. But her warmth is growing too intense, an unnatural heat that sends waves of unease down my spine.

Rurik leads us deeper into the castle’s labyrinthine underbelly, each turn a blur in my periphery.

We burst into a vast cavern, a hall for giants. Carvings line the walls, but they’re meaningless to me. I’m only looking for her.

Ben and Tomas are huddled on the ground, Sunday’s head resting in Ben’s lap. He speaks softly, a dark jacket covering her, Tomas in nothing but dress pants.

My little shifter friend leans against the wall, swallowed in a too-large white shirt, looking traumatized. Xavier’s gaze flits between Sunday and the boy. At Ben’s pleading look, they cross the space and wrap an arm around the child’s narrow shoulders.

Valentine, after a cursory glance at Sunday, ghosts across the room to Mishka’s other side, sinking down beside him.

Tomas looks up from his spot at Sunday’s feet and catches my eye. He doesn’t lower his stare; he doesn’t flinch or shiftuncomfortably. He holds my eyes, nods once, and looks back down at her.

He dismisses me. How did so much change in three weeks? What else did I miss while under Roxana’s thumb?

Ben is the last to look up, his voice shaky.

“She’s not hurt, but she’s really hot. The dragon fire burned her clothes off, but her hair, her skin… she’s okay.” His voice hitches slightly at the end, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “She just needs to wake up now.” He leans closer to her, his words softening. “Sweet Girl, Gray’s here, and Xavier. It’s time to wake up.”

I kneel beside her, hesitating before I touch her.

Heat radiates off her in waves, the air around her thick with it. When my fingers meet her skin, it feels like touching a scalding stove. I wince, dread spiking through me. She’s much too hot for a human—maybe too hot for a demon. The unnatural warmth is a constant reminder that something is wrong. Still, I lace my fingers with hers, gripping tightly, too desperate to feel her with me to temper my strength.

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