Page 45 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Daddy, sensing the atmosphere, wisely decides to abandon ship. “I think I’m gonna head on… see if Cady and Sue need any help with the kids and make sure Val’s got a good spot to hunker down for the day.”

“Are you sure? There are three entire floors of antiques and built-ins for you to stare at.”God, I sound snarky.

He just chuckles, completely unaffected. “I’ll bring Mishka over in the morning and see everything by daylight.”

A thought strikes me. “Oh, before I forget, can you drop the Judge by, too?”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, take care of it in the morning.” Daddy’s voice catches, like the words are snagging in his throat. His eyes flick to the side before he covers it with a quick nod.

My suspicion flares. Normally, he’d give me a little story about the tune-up he did or how he kept her polished up just right. But tonight, he’s clipped, shifting gears too fast.

He moves to stand in front of Gray, hand outstretched in that solid, dependable way of his. “It’s a beautiful place, Grayson. I know you and your chyld… and mates will enjoy living here.”

Gray clasps his hand firmly, matching the energy. “I suppose we’ll see you after sunset tomorrow, to retrieve our wayward children?”

Daddy’s face breaks into a huge grin, his grip lingering just a second longer. “Looking forward to it.”

Well, at least that was the truth.

Daddy kisses my cheek and then makes the rounds, offering quick, distracted goodbyes to the rest of the guys. He claps Ben on the shoulder, gives Shadow a nod, and mumbles something about Cady being a lot for Sue to handle on her own before practically fleeing like his own damn house is on fire.

Ben immediately turns and punches Shadow in the shoulder. Shadow rubs the spot, rolling their eyes with an exaggerated sigh. Without a word, Ben strides out of the room, his footsteps fading into the distance. Shadow watches him go, then stalks off in the same general direction.

Grayson’s gaze follows them, his hand slipping from my back as he turns to me.

“I’m going to…” he trails off, eyes lingering on the doorway Shadow just stormed through, tension flickering across his face as if he’s weighing whether to follow them or stay with me.

Fuck a bunch of mates.

I just want to explore my new house. Can I not enjoy my fantasy life for an hour or so before the super fun work of charting polyamorous relationships comes crashing back down on me?

Gray’s still glancing toward the doorway, clearly torn, so I make the decision for him.

“Go on, then,” I say, waving him off. “I’ll be fine. Check on our cat.”

Without waiting for his reply, I head for the nearest staircase—there are several,sigh—and start up to the second floor. I want to take my time, linger on the intricate carvings in the banister or admire the way the stained glass on the landing catches the light. But instead, I’m stomping, powered by pure enmity.

The second floor opens into a wide hallway lined with doors on both sides, spaced a comfortable distance apart. Each door has a small, handwritten card with a whimsical name like TheNorthstar SuiteorThe Bluebird’s Nest.

I stop in front of the latter and push open the door.

“Oh my God.” I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Holy shit. It’s really a…”

Shadow bolts in from the doorway, landing smack in the center of a low, round bed piled with pillows beneath a gauzy canopy twinkling with soft lights.

“…Nest. It’s really a nest, and it’s mine. Unless you want it, or we could share.”

“It’s incredible.”

The walls are draped in shimmering viridian fabric, a deep bluish-green like the iridescent wing of a beetle. On the far wall, an Art Nouveau mural unfurls—graceful bluebirds woven through swirling vines and blossoming flowers. The bed itself is a cocoon of cerulean, teal, and jade. Pillows and blankets invite me to sink right in.

In one corner sits an indigo-blue armchair next to a small table with a seafoam lamp—it’s pale and frosted, like sea glass polished smooth by the waves.

I throw my arms out and fall back on the bed, making a pillow angel. The twinkle lights glow softly above, casting a warm, dreamy haze. “Shadow,” I sigh, feeling the last bit of irritation slip away, “I kind of want to get high in your nest.”

“Oh, you definitely should.” They lean over me, and any pretense of staying annoyed evaporates in an instant.

Those eyes—not just the color, which is fantastic, but the damn lashes, dark and thick, with a smudge of eyeliner that’s frankly devastating. I want to eat them up with a spoon and lick it clean.

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