Page 112 of Eat. Prey. Love.

“Look at this,” I murmur, eyes wide as the ancient parchment comes into view. “It’s like something straight out of humanlore—code talkers and their secret languages designed to be uncrackable.”

Dolly cocks her head, a frown creasing her brow. “Code talkers? I don’t know that myth, Chessie.”

Aubrey leans in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Humans had these translators who used a little known indigenous language to transmit codes during the Great War. But given our history, it stands to reason that the actual communicators weren’t human at all but supernatural beings who spoke a language like this,” he gestures toward the scroll with a reverence usually reserved for sacred texts.

The room is still, save for the rustle of parchment as we unfurl the scroll across the coffee table. Words and symbols dance before our eyes, a cryptic ballet of ink and intent waiting to be deciphered. I have no idea what it means—yet—but it definitely looks like the symbols we’ve already seen.

“Can you imagine the secrets this will reveal?” Aubrey’s words are barely audible, his excitement palpable as he envisions the research ahead. Renard grins fondly, leaning into his mate as the dragon has what looks like a librarian-gasm over the artifact.

“Bet it’s just an ancient shopping list,” Fitz mutters, earning a snort from his twin. “It would serve us right for getting so excited.”

“Maybe it’s the recipe for a fake love potion,” Felix says, grinning as he joins his brother in needling the enthusiastic dragon.

“Guys,” Renard chides, though there’s a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Don’t ruin Flames’s fun. He’s much less grumpy when he’s riding a wave of antiquity anticipation.”

“Of course he is,” I say, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress my own smile. “But no naughty fun until we look this over. And we’re all going to help. Right, Fitzy?”

My mate groans and slaps his hand over his face. “Ugh.Fine. But only if Baby Girl sits with me while we sneeze into dusty tomes.”

Dolly smiles, looking at him fondly. “Of course I will. This could be the key we’ve been searching for. I’m down for a big crusty book and a tiger snuggle.”

No surprise there, but that’s why we all love her—she’s there for anything we need without hesitation.

“Thank you, Raina—you, too, Captain,” Dolly says. The gratitude is thick in her voice as she walks over and embraces them both. “You don’t know how much this means. You might have provided us with the one thing we need to unravel the mysteries plaguing us. Hell, it might even stop a rebellion before a fucking war breaks out.”

“You’re welcome, Dolly. We arealwayson your side,” Raina replies as she smiles up at our fierce bunny. “You and your family are the only preds who have treated us like equals. We tell the other prey any chance we get because I believe you are going to change the world someday.”

That makes our beautiful girl flush bright pink, and Fitz grins crazily. “Hell, yeah, she will. My Baby Girl is like the chosen one or some shit—you’ll all see. There’s a reason she is like she is and when we figure it out, all these dickheads better watch the fuck out.”

As always, Fitz is the most simplistically eloquent of all of us, even when he’s being crazy.

“Shall we gather our food and adjourn to Aubrey’s bookish dungeon?” I ask as I wink at the big dude.

His gaze narrows. “No dungeon things in my library, Chester Khan. I’ll have your hide for a rug.”

I grin innocently as they all laugh, shrugging. “It will probably beworth it, though.”

That, I’m not joking about—even the dragon knows it.

Feel It Still

I stretch into Warrior II,my gaze fixed beyond my fingertips as if I can already see the victory in tonight’s match. The dim winter sun warms my skin, a gentle breeze playing along the edges of our open air garden, and there’s a tang of anticipation in the air. Fitz mirrors my pose to my left, while Chess holds a perfect Tree Pose to my right.

I love when the guys do yoga with me—even if some are less than graceful about it.

“Seriously, Baby Girl,” Fitz chuckles, his voice carrying easily over the tranquil space between us, “Zhuan xing U is all abouttheir quantum processors and lab experiments. Their team is going to be as intimidating as a floppy disk. Pasty skin and spaghetti arms will abound as you drill them into the dirt.”

His teasing draws a ripple of laughter from me, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves above. It’s comforting, this routine, before the storm of competition. But despite the jests, my muscles coil with a readiness that comes from being more than just your average bunny shifter. I can’t have the blue lightning escape unbidden in large, crowded stadiums or someone will have me locked up for certain. So if these guys happen to bring some ridiculous ringer like the state school did at Cappie, I have to be centered and mindful, not blindly raging.

Chess shakes his head, a frown creasing his brow as he transitions into another pose with fluid Giselle. “Underestimating them would be a rookie mistake,” he says, and even without looking, I can tell his gaze is thoughtful. “We should prepare for every possibility. As you well know, Fitz, computer geeks and scientists are good at math. They didn’t make a movie about math and sports for no reason.”

I roll my shoulders, easing the tension that starts to build at his words. Deep down, beneath the stretches and the laughter, I know he’s right. Experience might not have introduced me to the specifics of Zhuan xing’s team, but it has taught me that underdogs often have the sharpest bite. And with the amount of enemies I have floating around? Assuming that no one is going to mess with the results of matches is a sucker bet. I’m smarter than that, even if I’m not a genius like those preds.

“You’re probably right,” I concede, shifting into a Downward Dog, “but money-balling isn’t going to win matches by itself. The choices made during the match and the skill set of their competitors are a greater predictor of success. If they don’t have team members who can match my speed, strength, or training, their equations won’t help them.”

Fitz grins crazily as he comes over to smack my ass. “Algebra’s got nothing on this ass.”

I giggle, trying not to fall over as he gropes me and Chess sighs heavily. “How can I argue withthat?”

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