“This is Connor,” Theresa says kindly. “He has an anima but has chosen to stay in the unmated male dorms.”
Connor rolls his eyes. “The smell of feral animus really hits you in the face, but I’m having a good time so far.”
We laugh and give him a happy welcome. There are plenty of openly LGBTQ members within our kind and having a male with an anima or a female with an animus are less common, but not unheard of. In our world, the spirit of your beast form takes precedence over your outward appearance.
It’s why it’s so hard for us (me) to fight our anima when it wants something. Like my mates. But she’s instinct and spirit only. There’s no logic involved. Onlyneed.It’s not normal to fight your anima, it’s just my unique circumstance that makes it imperative that I do.
Moments later, Theresa organises us into a line and leads us out. Luckily, the older girls are put in front of us, which means when we enter the field, I’m given a little buffer for what comes our way.
If you think keeping a bunch of males with horny animuses all together in a place like this for years would drive them feral for unmated animas, you’re quite right.
Chapter11
Aurelia
The Hunting Games field is a tangle of forest in front of us and we’re walked out to a long patch of green turf that sits between it and the bleachers. Usually, the medical tents and commentators are set up here, just in front of the metal cages where the hunting teams wait to be released.
No less than one hundred and fifty eyes seated on the bleachers snap towards us with eager expectation. Dozens of wolf whistles and shouts fill the air.
The first-year males are in the bottom row, shackled in black hand and legcuffs. My eyes are drawn to three of the tallest, biggest figures in that row. The three who seem to hold power around them like a wave of dense, latent electricity. Those males forced to be seated next to them are visibly tense.
I do everything in my power to look everywhere but them.
Someone actually barks, “Fresh meat!” and it’s followed by male chortling. The line of guards at the bleachers don’t try and stop or dissuade them, making me think that this isnormalprocedure. What the hell, Lyle Pardalia? So much for civilising these beasts.
Theresa instructs us to stand in a line facing them all, jeering at us like we’re about to perform some type of show. Is this what strippers feel before they step on stage? I’d always thought about that job in the back of my mind to try and make real money, but never had the guts to actually try it.
But I also can’t help but feel like this must be what illegal breeding auctions are like. I’ve been terrified of them my entire life and as that primal fear grips my chest, I actually feel like my stomach juices are going to erupt like lava from my throat. Against my better judgement, I grab Minnie’s hand.
To my utter and profound relief, she doesn’t shake me off and grips me tightly back.
I hate that I look weak, but my blood is pounding in my ears and I can’t breathe.
I’m a predator. I’m an apex predator,and there is nothing I fear,I chant, over and over again as I stand there trying to keep my face blank.
But I can tell our audience is trying as hard as they can to stare through our clothes to our very souls. A few in the back even get up from their seats to try and get a better look.
They start crying out to us by what we’re wearing.
Raquel gets called “Patches.”
Sabrina gets shouts of “sexy mama,” to which she blows kisses left and right. Go her, seriously.
Minnie gets “Pinky” because of her hair.
And wait for it. I get: “Bun bun bunny!”
“Holy fucking shit,” Minnie mutters next to me.
“I knew I shouldn’t have worn a bun,” I mutter back. But it’s all I could manage this morning.
What have I gotten myself into? So much for trying to lie low. Instead, I feel like I’ve got a crimson target on my chest. Ahead of me, Sabrina preens like a peacock, her hips tilting to show off how great her ass looks in those leggings. A few of the unmated girls from older years boldly stare out at the crowd, but they get called to by theiractualnames.
One of my jobs after my father discarded me was to heal animalia in underground fighting rings. The only thing was, I eighth-shielded myself before I went in, so I was invisible to everyone there. I experienced the most sadistic natures of our culture and got really good at healing bad injuries from a young age, but I did it all without being seen.
This is a whole lot different, and I’d honestly rather burn my eyeballs out than be here with the three males who are hunting me.
“Right!” One of the other teachers, a bald man with a huge, brown huge ‘stache is standing before us with a loudspeaker. “Back row, third years, you come down first, pass by, then go straight to the dining hall. If you see a mate, let us know by raising your hand.”