Page 37 of Let Us Prey
“You should probably go,” I croak, wrenching my thoughts away from whatever dark path they were headed down. When we were all together in Bash’s bedroom, his presence was grounding me, but there’s no one here to save her now.
If I hurt her, I’ll never forgive myself.
“No,” she softly replies, and my eyes flutter open to find her standing so close to me I have to fight back another growl. “I came by to hang out with you, so I’m staying.”
Swallowing hard, I take a step backward. “I… I can’t control myself around you, Delores, and without Bash here, I’m worried that I might… ”
Before I can finish my sentence, her pillowy lips are pressed against mine, and I forget how to speak. Her tongue tentatively runs along the seam of my mouth until I let her in, and the instant I do, intense color bursts behind my eyelids. Cerulean blue, like her eyes, but also hunter green, like a deep forest, and carmine, like her plaid skirt.
Also like blood on the fur of a fresh kill.
My growl echoes off the walls of my studio. I grab her shoulders, spinning us so I’m pressing her against the nearest wall before sinking my fangs into her biteable bottom lip.
She freezes, and for a moment I think she might try to run—andfuck,do I want her to run—but she surprises me by softening instead. Her body goes limp in my arms, the softest sigh escaping her as she runs her long fingers through my hair and down my back.
Just like when she had her hands on me in the townhouse, I melt under her touch. I’m positively starved for it. Releasing her lip, I bury my nose against the soft skin of her neck—not to bite her again, but to nuzzle and breathe her in. My primal mindlessness fades into a contentment I haven’t known since Bash first announced he was claiming me as his.
Although he’s never petted me like this.
“I like it when you purr,” she giggles, and I smile against her skin, so incredibly thankful I didn’t snap and injure her. This bunny somehow makes my predatory instincts come roaring to life, yet also soothes the savage beast at the same time.
She’s pure magic.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a better handle on my shit,” I mumble into her neck before pulling back to earnestly gaze down at her. “This is all new to me.”
She nods, and I see nothing but compassion in her expression. “Yeah, Cassius told me you were raised to be submissive—almost like prey.” Before I can ponder the shocking factCashshared this insight with her, she brightens. “Hey, it’s kind of like howIwas raised to be a predator when I’m really prey! Maybe we can learn from each other?”
My heart almost explodes at her sweetness, but I shake my head. “No.I’lldefinitely be taking notes, butyoudon’t need to change one bit. I like you exactly how you are.”
A blush stains her cheeks—the exact color of ripe peaches. “You… youlikeme?”
For a moment, I’m confused by her oddly innocent question. Then I remember I’m holding a barely legal girl in my arms, one who’s perhaps never been in love before. A girl who is definitely lacking in experience when compared to what Bash probably wants to do to her.
With my assistance, I hope.
Even though the idea of the three of us together again is making my mouth water, I step back to give her space. “Yes, Lo, Ilikeyou. A lot.”
She cocks her head and follows me back to my worktable. “I’ve never been called ‘Lo’ before. Where did that come from?”
I stifle a smile. “From Nabokov’sLolita.Our fearless heroine—the object of Humbert Humbert’s obsession—is named Dolores, like you. One of her nicknames is Lo.”
She wrinkles her cute little nose. “Isn’t that a book about an old dude creeping on a girl way too young for him?”
Oh, the comic irony of it all.
“Mmhmm… ” I hum, throwing her a pointed look. “And here I am, at almost thirty years old, the twins are 35, and Aubrey and Renard are so ancient we can't even fathom how old they are.” Remembering her earlier question, I clarify, “Because, yes, I know Aubrey—and Renard—and I am well aware they’ve both metyou.”
The blush is edging toward burgundy as she clears her throat and awkwardly gestures at my project. “So, what are you working on for Aubrey?”
More than happy to switch gears, I lift the paper to reveal the pane beneath. “It’s a stained glass panel he came across in a dusty back corner of the library. We haven’t been able to figure outwhereit was hung, but in the meantime, I’m attempting to restore it.”
I appreciate the care with which her eyes roam over the damaged pieces before she continues. “How do you decide where tostart?”
Shrugging, I do my best to explain. “I start with what I know. I’ve already traced over the strips of lead that remain—we call thosecames—although, as you can see, some are missing, along with a few pieces of glass. It would help if we could find any reference to how this originally looked, but I do love chasing a puzzle.”
I silently watch as she runs a tentative finger over what looks like an image of a door. “Maybe you’ll find something in the archives. Fenrir knows, I’ve never heard of our dragon ever letting anyone else in there with him… ”
“He was kind of a grump with me at first,” she murmurs. “But I think I’m working my way under his scales. Renard is fascinating, although I totally spilled my guts to him like some sort of babbling weirdo. You and Bash obviously…likeme.” Again, that blush creeps in, but my fox only purrs beneath the surface this time. “Ugh, but Cassius clearly despises my existence.”
