Page 21 of Come Out & Prey

DTF? What in the hell does… oh.

That makes me feel positively ancient and I glare at my trend hopping twin for making me feel every single one of my thirty-six years with one off-hand phrase. “So what? I’m sure they’re hoping to snag a rich asshole for a mate before they even have to waste their time on studying next year.”

“Stop thinking about that salty lioness. I feel you tensing up,” Fitz says as he rumbles next to me. “My point was that this sweet treat didn’t seem comfortable with their mouthy shit. She might hold out for something real, if you can believe it. She obviously didn’t know her friends are emerged; they were lying to her.”

I squint at him.Does this actually bother him? Did playboy Fitz Khan’s heart grow two sizes today?Pursing my lips, I suppress a grin. “I feel you want more from this girl than a simple fuck fest.”

Fitz snorts and shakes his head. “Never, bro. Chess is the only permanent figure in this dick’s future, but I’ll happily swizzle about when I get the chance.”

We’ll see about that, little brother. We’ll see.

Don’t Let Me Get Me

As Bruiser pullsthe car around to the front of the house, I look over at Matilda. Her shoulders are tight again, and she keeps pushing her glasses up her nose. I know she’s worried because we don’t have a dress to show Lucille, but Luc insisted that he would finish a few tweaks tonight and have it messenger’d over with the shoes in the morning. I’m not sure if that was a feint to keep Lucille from shredding it ahead of time or if he truly wanted to do a few alterations based on his notes.

It’s not an unfounded concern; Lucille willdefinitelyblow a gasket when we get inside. Since I see Bruno’s MG outside, I know that means he’ll join in the fun as well. This is going to be terrible, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I give Matilda an encouraging smile, hoping to convey without words that we’re not about to face an actual firing squad.

At least, I don’tthinkLucille will have one waiting, but who the hell knows with her?

Climbing out of the Hummer, I walk up the stairs, straightening my shoulders and securing the mask I have to wear when I dealwith my parents. Matilda follows me quietly, staying a few steps behind like Lucille prefers staff to do. I hate it, but I know she’s doing it to give the illusion that I’m following the same protocols the other heirs do.

“Delores!”

The wail of my fully loaded maternal unit permeates the heavy front door, and I suck in a deep breath. That’s not goodat all. I open the door, stepping into the gaudy marble foyer and heading for the drawing room. “Coming, Lucille!”

When I enter the drawing room, my mother is draped over her favorite chaise and my father is prowling the room like he’s looking for fresh meat. Lucille has her traditional vodka martini and Bruno is carrying a hefty pour of scotch in a highball. The look in their eyes says they’ve grown bored with throwing insults at one another and I’ve now presented the perfect target with my arrival.

“How disappointing! You didn’t find a suitable gown. Whatever will you wear to your prom?” Lucille sneers, her eyes lighting with satisfaction.

“Typical,” my father growls. “She can’t even spend money properly. I don’t know how we produced such auselessheir. It must be your genes, Lucille; none of the women in my family are so inept.”

Lucille rolls to her feet with the grace of a feline shifter, her eyes narrowing to slits. Ignoring Bruno, she advances on me, the predator inside of her shimmering beneath her skin as she moves. “That’swhat happened, isn’t it? Speak up, Delores!”

Matilda scurries towards the bar cabinet as the vodka sloshes out of Lucille’s glass, anticipating her next order. I mutely shakemy head at my mother, swallowing as I decide how I’m going to explain my lack of a garment without setting her off. I’m never sure how to handle her when she’s this sloshed, but with Bruno in the mix, I have even less confidence that I’ll come out of this situation unscathed.

“Oh, I know what happened. You don’t have to admit your shame out loud. Not one designer had anything left that fit your...ampleframe.” Lucille’s eyes sparkle with delight as she continues to stalk towards me. “You should have allowed me to make that appointment with Dr. Randall. We could have nipped your baby fat in the bud long before this disaster.”

My eyes widen and my hand flies to my mouth of its own volition. I strive to not give Lucille the reaction she craves, but after the sizing fiasco she engineered and now this, she’s hit all the right notes to destroy what little confidence I have. “I... I… No. Um, Monsieur Growlvinchy… there are alterations.”

“Madame,” Matilda intervenes, handing Lucille a fresh drink while staying as far away from Bruno as possible. “The boutique will send Delores’ dress tomorrow morning by messenger. A few small things needed to be tailored, but I did not wish Delores to be home late, so they will get completed overnight.”

Bruno whirls, glaring at the hawk shifter. “Did she ask you? Know your place, featherhead.”

I wince. I know Mattie was only trying to help, and my parents are just about as awful as they can be to her without being physically violent. Although that could change at any moment, I suppose. “I apologize, Father. I got a little tongue tied and I’m sure Matilda only wished to inform you of the special consideration Monsieur Growlvinchy afforded us. He was quitecomplimentary of Lucille, and he provided us with only the finest designs.”

That’s not a lie, but not exactly the truth, either. It seems to mollify Bruno for the moment. Lucille continues to glare at me, her suspicious nature keeping her from trusting anyone’s word. I stand perfectly still—like prey—waiting for her to decide what to do next. She finally heads back to the lounge, dropping onto it with a sigh of irritation.

“He probably has to re-stitch every seam to fit you. Couture isn't suitable for your body.”

Her words hit me like a brick between the eyes, and I turn on my heel, running for the stairs without waiting to be excused. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry, and if I didn’t escape right now, that was going to happen.

My parents' drunken laughter echoes through the hallway as I choke back a sob.

Just another day at the Drew House of Horrors.

The door closesbehind me with a slam that rattles the frame, and I dive for my bed, burying my face in my soft pillows. My mother has always known how to dig under my skin until I’m raw, and she never shies away from making me feel like the worst daughter she could have ever birthed. I don’t know why I let her, but I can’t help feeling abandoned when the two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally seem to loathe my existence.

I often wonder why they had me, but I know the answer to that question. The elite families have to produce an heir to keep in power, and if there’s one thing my parents love more than booze, it’s power. I’m not sure why they didn’t have another child to replace me, since I’m such a disappointment, but I’ve pondered it many times over the years.

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