Page 129 of Let Us Prey
It seems I have as much trouble saying no to her as I do to Renard, and they both know it.
I watch her make her way around the festival, noting the symbiotic interactions between the clueless humans and the shifters that live in town. The spider shifter selling hammocks can make a fortune on something that costs her nothing but time, and the humans will pay a premium for a ‘hand-crafted’ item.
There don’t seem to be any predators here, which is not surprising—young preds aren’t known for control or subtlety.
When we make it to the middle of the square, she gives me an evil little smirk, and it makes my eyes narrow in suspicion. I don’t know what she’s got planned, but it can’t be good. No one close to me makes that expression unless they’re getting ready to do something they know will piss me off. She tugs on my hand, practically vibrating with mischief as she pulls me over to… a line?
“We’re going to get our picture taken with theEaster Bunny!” Dolly squeals as she leans into me and bats her lashes. “I want to frame it and put it in the Tower.”
Hell no. Absolutely not. I’ll never hear the end of it.
She must see the refusal brewing in my expression because she amps up the lash-batting and pulls a pout. “Please, Aubrey? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
I shake my head, warring with the part of me that craves cuteness. “No.”
The pout gets bigger and she widens her eyes. “Pretty, pretty please? I’ll pop my ears out. Then we canbothfeel silly.”
She’s as big a cheater as my companion, and my eyes narrow. If I have to play along, I’m going to make her work for it. “Earsandtail. Plus, you have to do something very silly in the photo—to make it fair, of course.”
Her nose wrinkles, but she finally nods. “Okay. But I’m gonna stand here in your big hulking shadow while I shift so no one sees me if I don’t get it right.”
I snort, moving to block her from the rest of the onlookers. “Go ahead, then.”
Dolly clears her throat and squares her shoulders—which is even more adorable, because who does that before they shift? Finally, one fluffy angora bunny ear pops free, followed by another, and she gives me a bright smile. “I’m doing good, right?”
“Yes, you are, bite size. But you forgot... "
She giggles and shakes her head, the floppy ears making her even cuter, and I have to squeeze the squishy cat in my pocket until it practically pops. “No, I didn’t.”
Frowning, I watch her spin, and I’ll be damned if her fluffy cottontail isn’t poking out the back of her black lace sundress as if it was made for it. My eyes travel up her body until they reach the choker she’s wearing; the stone embedded in the locket looks a little familiar…
Motherfucker.
“That dirty rat. He gave you a piece of that damned talisman!”
Her fingers make a zipping motion over her lips, but I can see the smug look in her eyes. I know that’s how Renard keeps his clothes from shredding, but he’s purposely withheld the magic from me because he knows how much it annoys me. I’m going to make him pay for this betrayal, but for now, I have to get through this sensory overload.
The line moves and we chat as we wait, playing a surface-level version of two truths to pass the time. When we finally get to the stage, the partially-shifted bunny bounces up to the human in the lumpy looking rabbit suit. It’s incredibly surreal to see all of these people queuing to take pictures with a giant fake animal when they’d lose their minds if they realized anactualshifter who turns into the same animal was in their midst.
Humans are the least aware species on the planet—it’s an indisputable fact.
“Come on, you stuffy librarian! Get in the picture with me!”
Drat.
I trudge over to awkwardly stand near the weird rabbit man. Dolly rolls her eyes and leans over the costumed idiot to grab my shirt. Stumbling forward, I lean down and only catch a glimpse of her wicked grin before she’s kissing me. I can vaguely hear the whirr of a lens clicking in the background, but my full and undivided attention is on the silky feel of her plush lips pressed against mine.
And that is how Aubrey ended up buying an overpriced picture of a bunnysnacklet kissing a surprised dragon in front of a sweaty human in a fursuit.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Masquerade
Delores
“Ugh, take it from the top!” Rufus puts his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Full tech rehearsals for the talent show have become our daily nightmare. The inability of the various arts disciplines to work as a team marks for constant friction, and Rufus’ patience—thin as it is—is ready to snap. I don’t blame him—unlike our number, the other acts from the dance and music departments are all solo performances, so every pred is the star in their own head. There are a few tolerable small preds, but the majority of our tantrums have come from a single source.
