The sight before Maya is nothing short of extraordinary.
The normally immaculate Jackson Carter, the terror of the supernatural world and embodiment of cold authority, is on his hands and knees in what appears to be a desperate pursuit of three very naked, very gleeful seven-year-olds.
His expensive suit jacket lies discarded on a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his usually perfect hair falls across his forehead in disarray.
"Aiden," he calls out, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of exhaustion as he reaches for the closest child, who giggles and darts away with supernatural speed. "Please, just put on your pajamas."
"Can't catch me!" Aiden sing-songs, zooming past the alpha with a flash of bare skin and a mischievous grin.
Jackson's head drops forward in
