Page 30 of Come Out & Prey

“Is… it possible... that none of you are lying?” I venture, looking from Todd to his growling pack of dipshits carefully.

Realization dawns on them slowly and they burst into a fit of snorts and sniggers, like children. Gold finally turns her attention to this side of the table, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. I shake my head and she shrugs, turning back to the lower preds who are fawning over the Heathers’ dresses.

“The Toddman’s chick figured it out!” Chaz yells, pumping his fist in the air.

I suck in a calming breath, closing my eyes before I snap at him. We’ve all gone to school together since we were babies and this idiot knows my name. That neither he nor any of the laughing fools acknowledge my place as Todd’s future mate drives me batty, but I usually let it go. There’s no need to ruffle feathers until my place is secure, right?

Fuck. That sounded a little too ‘Lucille’ for my taste.

“Well, hopefully, people don’t get so blasted that they pass out before dancing.” I squint at the program on the fancy flower arrangement on the table. “It says next they’ll serve dessert while someone from Apex gives a speech.”

Brett grins toothily, dropping into his chair again. “Can’t wait to show whatever stodgy old fart they send what they’re in for when we arrive next year.”

Good luck to whatever poor professor they forced to give this speech. They’re going to need it.

Respect

“I swear to Anubis,that asshole Raj has secret telepathy,” I grumble. My hand squeezes the sparkly dragon squishy hidden in my pocket reflexively as I try to calm my nerves. Dragons are insular shifters—much like gargoyles—and speaking in front of sizable crowds outside of your family is unusual. I don’t have large lectures like Felix or Fitz, and I’m not required to interact with students as closely as Chess or Renard.

This goddamned speech has me shaking in my fucking monkey suit.

Speaking of which, I look over at my erstwhile companion and huff as he practically skips his way to the Shirdal Arts Center. Fitz is unusually excited about attending a high school prom, despite it being an unpaid assignment outside of normal teaching hours. He’s normally the first one storming into Henny’s office to protest anything we’re asked to do after four p.m. Yet tonight, he’s effortlessly styled in his messy designer tux, whistling like a dwarf in a fairy tale as we head for a four-hour mandatory work detail.

I can’t quite work it out in my head. Thisshouldcut into his ‘slappy hour’ with Chess or whatever female shifter is throwing herself at him this week. If Fitz isn’t hanging in the tower annoying Renard, fucking someone, or with his ambush, it’s not a day that ends in ‘y’.

“Why so serious, lizard king?” he asks, making a face like the crazy villain in the confusing movie he made us watch about a man who is not a bat shifter, but dresses as a bat.

It takes everything inside of me to ignore his disrespect for my species, and I only do so because we’re friends. Dragons are not merelizards, and to suggest it would be a death sentence if I were any of the other members of my clan. “While I am uncomfortable with the situation, it is an honor to be asked to represent the school in front of the most powerful families in the country. I’m worried my lack of... social graces will be detrimental to our reputation. Plus, my history…”

The tiger stops moving entirely to burst out laughing; the mirth is shimmering off of him in waves as he coughs and sputters. I cross my arms over my chest, irritated at his humor at my expense. I don’t often express feelings outside of anger, and my annoyance at his insensitive behavior makes the fire in my belly spark. Huffing a smoke ring as I try to regain control, I glare at him silently, waiting for him to explain himself before I turn him into a fried kitty steak.

When he finally catches his breath, Fitz tilts his head at me. “Listen, you big spicy iguana, this shit meansnothing. We weren’t asked to represent the school; they hogtied us into baby-sitting a bunch of baby council heirs. The Council members won’t be at a kids’ prom; hell, the school administrators won’t be here. This is a punishment—probably for something or someone I don’t remember doing—and nothing more. These little shitswon’t give a hairy rat’s ass what your speech says—you could read the lyrics ofWAPand they won’t notice. Stop stressing; it’s harshing the vibe.”

Blinking, I open my mouth, and then I close it. It isn’t often that Fitz says something so logical, nor often he thinks of anyone but himself or his brother. I think he may have tried to make me feel better in his goofy frat boy way. I’ll be damned a second time. “You may be right, Fitzgerald, but it would not be right to shirk the responsibility I’ve been given, even if it is a punishment.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, reaching into his pocket and holding up a tiny baggie with the catnip strain of pred-stasy inside. “Suit yourself, scales. I plan on zoning out and chasing tail.”

I let out a frustrated puff of smoke as he saunters off in his rumpled tux, whistling again as he goes. Leave it to that underhanded cheater Felix to stick me with his irresponsible party boy brother instead of someone calm like Chess or Renard. When I finally prove that he rigs ourFang, Claw, Fistgames, I’m going to roast his goddamned chestnuts like it’s Christmas.

“Fitz, wait! If you could refrain from taking that until I’ve finished my speech…”

But it’s too late. He’s raced up the steps and into the building before I can finish my sentence, and the little fun bag is empty.

This is going to be a fucking nightmare, and I’m going to murder the Khan brothers afterward.

“Your educationat Apex Academy will be one of the finest in the world. Our Council families generously maintain the facilities to professional standards, and —”

“Sucks!”

A disembodied voice echoes from the back of the room, and my eyes narrow. If my entire speech goes like this, we’ll all be lucky to escape the flames when I lose my shit. My hand squeezes the squishy dragon in my pocket as I work to maintain composure.

“As I was saying, they select our staff from many of the elite predator packs, clans, prowls, prides, and more so you will receive…”

“Blowjobs!”

Another voice, different from the last, joins in. This one sounds younger, so perhaps I can forgive their behavior since I know unemerged preds have poor impulse control. “You will receive a world class education, training in the arts and combat, and the wisdom of creatures years, and yes, centuries older than yourselves.”

“Dragons are overgrown geckos!”

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