Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Maison

I hang up my coat and slide out of my boots, careful not to step in the puddles of melting snow. I head toward the kitchen first, aware that there’s a ninety-percent chance that’s where I’ll find the man I love at this time of day. Sure enough, Nolan is busying himself peeling potatoes. He beams when he sees me, as if we didn’t just see each other less than an hour ago.

“Hey, lumberjack,” he teases. “Chop down any trees?”

I roll my eyes at him but don’t try any lame comebacks. It’d be kind of silly considering I spent this past weekend out there with Jake, literally chopping wood so we could stock up for winter. It also doesn’t help that I’m wearing a flannel at the moment.

“Am I at least a sexy lumberjack?” I ask instead.

“Very.” He wipes his hands on a towel and heads toward me. His fingers skate over my stubbled jaw. “You need a beard, though. Don’t lumberjacks have beards?”

“I could grow a beard for you, baby,” I purr, loving the way his pupils immediately dilate at the dip in my tone. My man might still be struggling under the weight of his desires—both sexual and non-sexual—but that doesn’t mean he’s lost his sex drive. Even with the awkwardness of knowing we’re not compatible, we’ve still fallen into bed together nearly every night this past week, getting each other off in one way or another. From the look in his eyes, I think I could start another session right here, right now. It’d be a risk, though. Bryce threatened to lock us in my room and never let us out after he walked in on a pretty heavy petting session two nights ago in this very kitchen.

Nolan seems to think the risk is worth it because he’s already pulling me in for a kiss that quickly deepens and turns filthy. I back him against the counter and hike him up before slotting myself between his parted knees. His hands trail up my back and tug at my hair as I start dragging my mouth across his jaw and down his throat. The touch is a soothing balm to the anxiety that had racked up during my walk.

This, I can’t help but think as he moans and arches his back. Why can’t it always be like this with us?

Something bangs upstairs. We pull apart, both of us panting. He laughs softly when our eyes meet before he reaches out and ruffles my hair. “You’re covered in snow. You need a hat.”

“I’ll get one,” I promise him.

“Good.” He perks up, his eyes going bright. “Oh, I’m making you something tonight! Cheesy scalloped potatoes. They’re your favorite, right?”

“Definitely. Thank you.” I take a breath, steadying myself. This is perfect. It’s the best chance I’ll get. It means making him upset, though, and I fucking hate doing that. “With ham, too?”

His shoulders slump. “Wait—ham?”

“Yeah. Ma used to put ham in hers. Do we have some we can add?” I know we don’t. I’m the one who did the shopping this week.

“No. No, I don’t think—no, no ham.” His bottom lip wobbles. Fuck, I hate myself. “I didn’t know. I’ve never had them with ham.”

“That’s alright. Actually, Jake was complaining about the kind of beer I got anyway. He’s all about that fucking microbrew shit lately. How about you finish the potatoes and I’ll run to the store? I’ll be fast.”

He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and takes a breath before asking a small, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not a far drive. Plus, I need a hat, right?”

“Right…” He drops his chin, his eyes closing. “I’m sorry. I should have asked about the recipe instead of just assuming. I—I just wanted to surprise you with something good.”

Good . Fuck, if I never hear that word again, it’ll be too soon. I’m so emotionally exhausted by the idea of him being good . I know I don’t give him enough opportunities to be a good boy, and I know even when he does get an opportunity I sometimes forget to give him the praise. It’s just not something I think about, despite it being something his entire world seems to revolve around. Does that make me a terrible person? A terrible boyfriend?

I’m fucking trying .

Goddamnit, I’m trying my best here.

“This was good, Nol. It still is.” I cup his face and press a kiss to his lips. “You’re not a mind reader. Let me go get the ham and then the dinner will be just as perfect as you are. Okay?”

He releases a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Good boy.”

He melts at the words like he hadn’t been convinced the mistake was really okay until he heard them. That’s why I have to go to the store tonight. That’s why I can’t keep ignoring this gaping chasm between us. I have to face it. I have to get started fixing it. Tonight.

It’s time to talk to Hunter Meridian.

Stalking is an inherently creepy activity. I reach the height of my creepiness in aisle four of the town’s small grocery store, my basket of ham, micro-brewed beer, and a discount hat hanging from the crook of my elbow. The man I’m watching is at the opposite end of the aisle, oblivious to my presence. He looks unfairly put-together in his dark slacks and wool coat, his hair trimmed neatly on the sides and longer on top, styled to look just the right kind of messy. He adjusts his wire-framed circle glasses that should make him look nerdy but end up just making him look hot as fuck instead, making it easier for him to read the box in his hands.

Hunter Meridian.

All my hours of research have led me here. I know everything I possibly can about the man in front of me. I know his childhood background, every report card, his extra-curricular activities, his attendance records, his medical reports, his college transcripts. I know who his best friend was growing up and who his best friend is now. I know his career and his home address and the amount in his three bank accounts, retirement fund, and stock portfolio. I know his favorite kinks and his top talents. I know his reputation at the college he works at, his reputation among his friends, his reputation in the kink community.

I know he shops at this store every Thursday after his night lecture, stocking up on anything he might need for the weekend since he survives most of the week on takeout from places near the college.

Meridian shifts closer to me as he places the box he was looking at in his cart. I step around the end of the shelving unit, tugging my ball cap lower on my head as I watch him through the security mirror mounted in the corner. He’s now checking his grocery list.

I’ve fought with myself over this plan for a week now. I know there isn’t another option. I need help— Nolan and I need help—and this is the only man who can provide it. I have to go to him.

I can’t lose Nolan, but I can’t hold on to him either, not like this. I just—I fucking can’t . I won’t survive it. I won’t survive a lifetime of watching him settle. Of pretending. Of waiting for the day we break apart in a way that no amount of gold can piece us back together.

I surge forward, my focus narrowing on the one man who might be able to fix the bleakness of my future. It’s only as I get close enough to smell the subtle tones of his cologne that I realize I don’t have a plan. All of that research, all of that inner turmoil, all of that overthinking, and I never came up with a fucking plan .

“Meridian,” I say. Or… maybe I growl it. I don’t mean to growl it, it just sort of comes out like that.

For his part, the man doesn’t startle. He just lifts his chin and turns, his shoulders squared and his lips curved into a frown. “Yes?”

“I’m—I’m Maison. I’m friends with Travis.” I adjust my cap, letting him see my face a little better. “I’m Carter’s brother.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re one of the men who pulled a gun on me that night, aren’t you?”

I wince, having completely forgotten about that. It was such a brief moment, and his involvement was clouded by the worry for my brother and the confusion over the new knowledge that my brother was into kink despite his abuse. Sure, it was what brought Meridian into my life, what put him on my radar, but the details—like me pulling a gun on him until I was sure he wasn’t involved in hurting my brother, at least in a way that my brother didn’t want—had sort of dissolved in the shadow of everything else lately.

Well, this is awkward now.

“I… may have done that, yes. Um. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” He smiles. “Like I told Travis, I’m just glad Carter has people who care so much about him.”

And he’s nice. Great.

“I need your help,” I blurt before I can lose the courage.

Hunter tilts his head, seeming curious. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You’re a dom, right?”

That’s clearly not what the man expected me to say. He quickly looks around, his shoulders lifting toward his ears, then steps closer and says in a low voice, “I’d appreciate it if we could talk about that somewhere else. I’m a professor in this town, after all. One who hasn’t gotten tenure.”

“Right. Sorry.” I wince again. This guy must think I’m a total idiot . “Can we maybe talk sometime?”

Meridian assesses me, the look somehow making me feel very… small . I step back, not a fan of that feeling. His lips twitch at the action. Then he nods. “Alright. You know Flannagan’s Pub, right? I could meet you there tomorrow. Seven o’clock?”

It feels like a date, which is ridiculous. I’m with Nolan. And Meridian is nowhere near my type, even if I wasn’t. “Seven o’clock. As friends,” I clarify.

“Don’t worry, big guy. I have no intention of trying to dominate you.” He takes a step past me, pausing when his shoulder is against mine. His cologne floods my nose as he turns to give me a smirk. It’s spicy. Sophisticated, somehow. His hazel eyes are bright with amusement. “Well, not unless you beg for it first.”

My face burns. I step back so quickly I nearly fall on my ass. What the fuck? “Yeah, no. I won’t be doing that.”

“Mmm.” Hunter smirks. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”