Page 18 of Come Out & Prey

“I know, Mattie, but she had every store pull every stupid poofy meringue dress they had in their stockroom. It was her idea of a joke, and every one of the personal shoppers at the stores we were in refused to show me anything else. I cannotgo to my prom dressed like Cinderella!”

The hawk shifter sighs, straightening her glasses as we approach the sleek obsidian marble of the Growlvinchy boutique. This designer wasnoton her list last night, and I’d love to know what underhanded deal Lucille worked out to get me in here. It has to be substantial because we know Gautier Growlvinchy likes to give the finger to anyone he doesn’t like, even those as powerful as Lucille.

A pangolin valet opens the double doors of the elite showroom and we step inside. They perfumed the air with a customized scent and I inhale, trying to catch the notes. The small, obsequious animal bows to us, his claw-like hands clasped together as he does so.

“You’re smelling violet, musk, freesia, sandalwood, and a few other top secret ingredients. Can’t give away the farm, I’m afraid, but I’ll give you a hint.”

My eyes widen as I realize the impeccably dressed predator who just joined us is Gautier himself. His legendary wild mane of striped hair falls to his shoulders, just barely touching the shiny black sharkskin suit. His bow tie, pocket square, and shoes are a fiery orange with matching stripes—the world-famous signature of the best dressed tiger in pred-dom.

“I…”

“Tut, tut, Miss Drew. It’s unbecoming for a young lady of your stature to babble. Follow me to the VIP lounge. I will begin witha fitting, regardless of what I was asked prior to you arriving, before I choose the designs. I find it makes for a more satisfying experience for everyone involved.”

For a moment, both shock and gratitude war within me, and Matilda reaches over to shut my mouth gently. No one defies Lucille—her wrath has destroyed entire industries—but this incredibly odd fashion diva seems wholly unconcerned whether his executive decisions will get back to her.

Swallowing hard, I whisper, “Thank you. I can’t express how much I appreciate your approach, Monsieur Growlvinchy.”

His sharp bark of laughter fills the gilded room, and he shakes his head. “Oh, no, Miss Drew. If you are to wear my creations, we will become friends. My friends call me Luc. And you are?”

“Delores,” I murmur.

“That simply will not do! A luscious predator like you cannot be called something so… pedestrian. I will ponder on it as we begin.” He claps his large hands and a virtual fleet of pangolins comes waddling out to usher us towards the back of the store. They are making a weird chuffing sound as they scurry alongside us.

“Luc, are these your assistants? I've never seen designers allow prey animals to shift fully in front of them without threatening to eat them all the time.” Growlvinchy’s control is impressive.

“That’s a fabulous question! Usually clients simply ignore my friends here as if they are furniture. This is an entire colony that I’ve gathered from unsafe situations during my travels. Emile is their leader—you met him at the door—and although they are usually solitary prey animals, they all live in a group in my compound.”

Tilting my head, I give the tiger a confused look. “That seems like a very... unusual living arrangement for a predator.” He laughs again, his golden eyes dancing as he opens the door to another room.

He walks me over to a raised area in the center of the lavish lounge, holding his hand out to help me step up onto the platform. “It is. However, I have lived long enough and traveled widely enough to know that the status quo is boring and often allows for tyranny. I have enough fortune and fame to allow me leeway to do things that make me happy, and having my friends safe and happy is one of those things. Plus, after I met Emile on an Asian tour, I learned that his kind have absolutely astounding talents for fabric and fine detail work, which of course makes them perfect allies for me.”

I ponder that as Matilda takes a seat on the plush chaise, crossing her ankles as she watches me. Luc buzzes around me as he takes my measurements, occasionally asking me to move a limb or turn as he shouts the numbers to the pangolin, taking notes on a thick notepad. From toes to my nose, he checks every single curve and line to make sure he has it written.

When he finishes with the measuring tape, he sighs and smiles at me. “Ah, the Botticelli-esque lines of unenhanced figures. I rarely see it anymore. Okay, delightful girl. Hop over to your minder and tell me what kind of dress you wish you could own.”

This is not the experience I expected when we walked through the doors of one of the most famous designers in the world, but it’s definitely the best thing we’ve done all day. I sit next to Matilda, thinking for a moment before I respond. “Something that doesn’t make me feel like a child playing dress up.”

“Oui! Parfait!” he exclaims, turning on his heel and heading for the back room. “I shall return with your dress.”

Turning to Matilda, I whisper, “This is weird, right? I mean, I’m supposed to try things on. Gold liked that Preyda, and Purple thought the pink St. Leopard looked good. Should I have gotten those? Luc is so nice, but how can he know what I need from… that?”

“Delores, I don’t think the dresses they gave you were right for you. Your friends... may have been trying to... look on the bright side. Make something good out of your mother’s suggestions. So they picked what they felt was the least objectionable option.”

Even my ex-nanny doesn’t look convinced by her own words, but if she wanted to say more, she would. I nod, chewing my lip as I worry. “If we don’t find the right thing here, Lucille will win. Again. It will ruin the biggest night of my life.”

“Oh, my,” the hawk shifter whispers.

I expected Matilda to accept my choice to take the next step with Todd. I thought she liked him—at least a little—and I frown, ready to open my mouth to defend him. Instead, I feel her hand gently grab my chin and turn my face towards the other side of the room.

Luc walks in with a single black dress held aloft on its hanger. The satin shimmers in the low light, accentuating the mermaid cut and long train the pangolin is holding off the floor as they follow him. It looks like modern design meets Holly Golightly, and it’s amazing. I think I saw T. Swift wear something like it at the Grammys one year.

“The sweetheart neckline paired with off-the-shoulder straps will accentuate your curves and long neck. If I’m right—and Ialways am—the hourglass shape will highlight every curve, and the train will force you to walk with an elegant gait. Too many women rush their entrance… it’s the anticipation that makes the presentation striking,” Growlvinchy says, his expression amused.

Another pangolin rushes forward, its claws dangling a pair of four-inch heels in black satin with very thin straps at the ankles and toes. They covered the straps and heels in sparkling diamonds, and if they’re real, this will put a dent in Lucille’s fun money account like no other. They don’t have the telltale red sole of Leopardtins when I peek underneath. That’s odd—those are the hottest shoes in the world at the moment.

Luc claps his hands again, looking delighted. “Good eye, delightful girl! I did not pick shoes from my great friend Leopartin for you becauseallthe girls will wear them. These are handmade by my colleague and occasional date, Messier Stuart Pyzman. They are thecrème de la crèmeof exclusivity. He only fashions less than a hundred pairs of shoes a year.”

“Are you sure I should wear shoes that are so…delicate?” I ask, almost afraid to touch something so beautiful and expensive.

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