Page 31 of Her Feral Beasts

I mean, Idoobey, just as slowly as possible. It might sound petty, but in our world, it’s a tiny, noticeable message of rebellion. I have to walk past him to get out of the hall, because clearly, he’s waiting to gather the animus students, but I just ignore him as I walk past. It means that I catch his scent, and by the Wild Mother, my mouth waters. Under fresh cologne, I smell clean leather and cedar, rich and heady. My anima goes wild like a bitch in heat and I have to clamp down on the need to turn around, press my body against his and sniff at his neck. Instead, I scream at myself not to be needy and all but leap towards the exit, throwing my tray in the bin and hurrying through the doors.

In the hallway, Theresa is waiting for us with a kind smile, and I never thought I’d be happier to see her.

Chairs scrape behind me as the animus students get up to follow us.

“Ladies,” Theresa says gently, and I think it’s in an effort to calm us down from the aftereffects of Lyle. “I’m taking you to the lecture theatre, and then we’ll separate into groups after. Let’s get a move on.”

Minnie loops her arm through mine like we’re in second grade, heading to the bus for an excursion, and for the second time, I wonder how the hell a softie like her ended up here. I’m not judging her though, because the movement calms me after I relax into it.

I know I’m touch-deprived, so I might as well enjoy this while I have it.

We’re led to a huge college-style lecture theatre with fifty-odd wooden seats. It looks like a super old parliament room because it was built with the rest of the mansion, with those fancy wood-panelled walls and matching stairs leading up to the thirty-odd rows of seats. Dragon scrollwork patterns each corner of the room and I can just imagine an entire parliament of dragons, smoke billowing, seated here talking about whatever political issues dragons discuss. Matters of arson? Flight paths? Stock prices? Who knows, but they all come from old money from places like Greece, Italy, and China—where I think Xander gets at least some of his genes from—meaning there’s a lot of money to talk about.

Theresa sits us down on the side of the room farthest from the door and right up the back, and I immediately know it’s strategic and fall in love with her.

This way, when the males all pile in, glaring or pining up at us, we get a good look at our potential suitors. But they will have to suffer through their backs being turned to us when they sit down.

I make sure all of my seven shields are back up in full force. The morning meal sits happily in my stomach and I feel like I’m ready to be observant and start formulating my plans.

Scythe, Savage and Xander walk in together, all three pairs of eyes finding me as they walk a little way up the stairs. Their faces are blank, though, and they promptly turn around to sit in their chosen seats. I gulp as I stare at their backs.

Savage leans back in his chair, his hands folded on the back of his head, elbows out as if he’s here for a summer holiday. Xander’s long, silky black hair is neatly tied at his nape and I can’t help but wonder what shampoo he uses because it definitely isn’t that LFS rubbish. Scythe’s silver hair hangs loose and the way his broad shoulders take up his black shirt sends a tiny flutter through my lower belly.

I quickly look away.

The other guys taking their seats have broken off into order groups. There’s a large group of wolves; the denim, scruffy, biker types. They’re already friendly with one another and talking silently, as is the way of wolves. A group of feline shifters just as big sits as far away from them as possible, their long manes giving them away. A few sit separately, and I know they must be tigers, panthers and lone feline types.

The birds of prey take their seats between the canines and felines, all with short spiky hair and many with shiny piercings.

These separate ways are for us, purely instinctive, and you can see it in the way they all silently just take their places without discussion.

A handsome, familiar face walking in to join the birds has me doing a double take. He’s got big biceps that he flexes to get attention and a dark blond spiky hair that, just a few weeks ago, I obsessed over…in Charles Halfeather’s mansion.

Beak scans the audience and sees me, the corners of his lips rising into a smile straight away. I raise my hand and he raises his own, before sitting next to a guy with blue and orange stripes in his hair.

Beak was a security guard for Halfeather. He was so kind to me at that cold place and told me he was called to attend Animus Academy. I forgot all about him. But I immediately tense because Savage’s head turns to watch Beak take his seat and the memory of him promising to break the eagle’s face sends me into a mad panic.

If it wasn’t for Beak, my uncle Ben wouldn’t have woken me up in the middle of the night to say the psychopaths were coming for me. I owe this bird, and if he ends up dead, I’ll never forgive myself.

Minnie pats my leg as if she thinks I’m nervous about the academy and I smile back at her.

Savage wouldn’t just attack Beak in the middle of a crowd, would he?

Would he?

But the wolf stays where he’s seated, and I blow out a slow breath.

Scattered in between the larger order groups sit small groups of other orders. I can pick out the serpents immediately because they always dress in a goth style, all black with silver hardware. There are only two of them sitting next to the hyenas, who dress similarly, but have a distinctive curly eyebrow tattoo.

There’s a scuffle at the door and someone gives a croakybark. In response to the aggression, three wolves and two birds burst into their beast forms. Our heads whip towards the entrance to the lecture theatre where Lyle stands, roughly pulling two guys apart.

“Feral group,” he states calmly, literally taking both growling and snapping guys by the scruffs and hauling them out. He hands them to guards waiting outside before striding back in, not a hair from his long honey-blonde mane out of place.

We all stare in wonder as Lyle assumes his position at the lectern and, in a booming voice of command that has everyone flinching, says, “Shift back.”

A hawk gives a low cry and they all seem to struggle a moment before, one by one, they morph back into their human forms.

Naked male asses appear with the crunch of bones and pops of cartilage. Guards stride around, handing out orange jumpsuits to replace all the torn clothes.

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