Page 27 of Let Us Prey
Pissing him off is always so easy and so worth it.
I rise to my feet, tilting my head back as the moonlight washes over me and the transformation that comes with a full shift occurs. The light glints off of the obsidian now surrounding my skin as my size multiplies until I’m towering over the massive man beside me. To his credit, Aubrey has never once commented on either my diminutive human body nor my massively intimidating shifted form. Once he finally spoke to me, our similarities were far more important than our differences.
“I believe you know the answer to that question.” Tossing him a wink, I launch myself into the air, my wings catching on the slipstream as he curses below.
“Cheater! Charlatan! Crook!”
I knew he wasn’t ready for our usual race to the buffet, but that’s a future Renard problem. Right now, I’m in the lead and he’ll have to give chase if he wants to harangue me further, whether about the ingenue bunny rabbit or my dastardly ways. My wings stretch as I make a sharp turn into a gust of wind, using tailwinds and windshear to soar to a higher altitude and pick up speed.
My scaly friend is in an exceptionally playful mood tonight—despite his cranky exterior—and I know him well enough to recognize the extra ‘spring in his wings.’ If his interactions with Delores have affected him so much, maybe I should prepare myself for similar emotions.
Perhaps it really is time to put the past in the past…
A dinosaur-like scream echoes over the hills as my companion goes full Smaug before appearing at my side, one jewel-toned eye glaring. I knew he’d catch up eventually—gargoyles have high aspect ratio wings and do more gliding and soaring. Dragons like Aubrey have larger wings with a shape that reduces drag and doesn’t require nearly as much vertical thrust or horizontal taxi space to take off and gain speed. On any given day, one or the other of us pretends we don’t actually understand the physics of our flight and lets the other win, even when the odds are unfair.
After hundreds of years together, it’s easy to compromise, so we both feel like we can come out on top.
“You didn’t say I had to count down,” I growl into the wind, knowing that will irritate the shit out of him.
An unmanly squawk escapes my throat when his answer is to yank the pointed end of my tail with the spiked end of his, causing me to hit the wrong wind gradient and spiral into a dive.
And he says I cheat?
I barely turn downwind fast enough to catch another shear before I end up with a face full of trees. It’s a close call, but I get lucky when the slope shoots me up into the air, higher than he can match until he banks along the ridge. Spying a good place to start our hunt, I take a sharp left toward an open-air campsite with dots of firelight and smoke billowing from several points.
Like items on the menu…
I glance at Aubrey before gesturing to a lone campfire isolated from the others, but he simply gives me a noncommittal shrug in return, which makes me smile. People like to talk a lot about dragons and their tempers over their hordes of gold, but as a longtime member of the ‘crisped by a pissy lizard’ club, I know there’s not a single thing they treasure more dearly than their bloody pride. You can take that little tidbit of trivia to the bank—that is, if you’re like me and can survive being roasted alive.
Hopefully, Little Miss Cottontail is worth the effort.
SEVENTEEN
IDGAF
Delores
Shifter History is my least favorite class. You’d think it would be Professor Cassius’ Shifting Studies, but I get to look athimthe entire time, so it makes the time go faster. I could do without him attempting to goad me in front of the idiots who used to be my friends, and I have no idea why he seems determined to push my buttons, but it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.
This class, however…
I walk into the traditional-style classroom in the Rostoff Scholastic Complex—gag me—and drop into the seat in the furthest corner of the room. After my stint in the cafeteria, I make certain to sit where I can not only watch my back, but every entrance, exit, and potential threat when I enter a room. I don’t trust the preds in this place as far as I could throw them; too many people have parents whose businesses and wealth are tied to the Heathers’ families, so they could have allies everywhere.
The voicemail Lucille left this morning rings in my head as I wait for the rest of the class to arrive. She was especially ruthless, probably because the phone didn’t wake me at 4 a.m. as she intended.
Delores Diamond Drew! I don’t know what those weak-minded prey friends of yours filled your head with this summer, and I don’t care. You will represent the family appropriately, including excelling in your classes and dressing appropriately. I don’t want to hear about you running around looking like a ragpicker, even if you insist on indulging your ridiculous dreams of humiliating us on some rinky-dink dinner theater stage. I’ve sent satisfactory attire for the dance classes you joined without my permission and you will otherwise dress in a manner befitting your stature, even if you don’t deserve to be associated with us. Your father and I have high standards and you will represent the family in public and in private. If by some miracle you find an acceptable suitor who tolerates your… failings, we will not be pleased if you look like trash while on the town with another shifter. Any further nonsense will be dealt with severely and swiftly. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I expect an answer before cocktail hour or so help me…
Shuddering, I shake off my rabbit’s instinctual fear. I can’t exude any weakness with the rest of my classmates filtering in. The scent will pique their interest and the nasty asshole who teaches this class won’t put them in their place like my guys would.
My guys. What a silly, naïve idea.
As if men with decades, or centuries, of experience would have the slightest interest inme.I’m a social reject and barely more than a virgin, experience-wise. What could I possibly offer to any of these guys? Everything I know— and admittedly, it’s not a lot—comes from watching videos on PredHub that can’t be realistic. I mean, thesizeof… things is clearly possible, given what I spied in the fighting ring during my campus tour, but there’s no way everything else is accurate. Movie magic, right?
Argh! What is wrong with me?
I avoided eventhinkingabout dating most of the summer, and I was perfectly fine. Why am I now in this lust fog that I can’t shake? Is it these specific men or am I finally healed enough from my moronic ex that I can see guys as potential partners again? Is it hormonal? I wish I knew, because it’s really fucking with my focus and it’s far too dangerous at Apex to be unaware of my surroundings while spraying out pheromones.
“Oh, look. It’s the appetizer,” Heather E. snarks as she sashays into the classroom with her troop of ass-suckers.
