Page 29 of Let Us Prey

Any further nonsense will be dealt with severely and swiftly.

Do you understand?

I expect an answer before cocktail hour, or so help me…

Shuddering, I shake off my rabbit’s instinctual fear. I can’t exude any weakness with the rest of my classmates filtering in. The scent will pique their interest and the nasty asshole who teaches this class won’t put them in their place like my guys would.

My guys. What a silly,naïve idea.

As if men with decades, or centuries, of experience would have the slightest interest inme.I’m a social reject and barely more than a virgin, experience-wise. What could I possibly offer to any of these guys? Everything I know—and admittedly, it’s not a lot—comes from watching videos on PredHub that can’t be realistic. I mean, thesizeof… things is clearly possible, given what I spied in the fighting ring during my campus tour, but there’s no way everything else is accurate. Movie magic, right?

Argh! What is wrong with me?

I avoided eventhinkingabout dating most of the summer, and I was perfectly fine. Why am I now in this lust fog that I can’t shake? Is it these specific men or am I finally healed enough from my moronic ex that I can see guys as potential partners again? Is it hormonal? I wish I knew, because it’s really fucking with my focus and it’s far too dangerous at Apex to be unaware of my surroundings while spraying out pheromones.

“Oh, look. It’s the appetizer,” Gold snarks as she sashays into the classroom with her troop of ass-suckers.

That nickname is a lot less endearing when it’s not coming from a grumpy book dragon muttering it under his breath. I glare at Gold, stretching my legs under the desk to reveal my shit kickers. Hopefully, she gets the point that I wouldn’t mind shoving one up her entitled ass, but I doubt she’s capable of making the leap. When the random girls with her snicker in chorus, I roll my eyes and open my DiePad, pointedly ignoring her as I get ready for class.

Pink strolls up with eyes full of malice, thrusting her phone in my face. “Looks like some lucky doggy caught your little scamper through the tunnels on video. I have uploaded it to all my channels, so everyone knows what a cowardly little rodent you are, DD. So sad.”

Something in my gut reacts, but I refrain from outwardly reacting. I’ve had a little self-defense training, but not enough to start a fightin a classroom that’s slowly filling with curious preds. I look around, hoping to find anyone who might step in, but the closest I get is a dude in the corner who gives me a sympathetic look. He holds my gaze for a second, but quickly drops his head and stares at his desk. I don’t know what kind of animal he is, but it must be a smaller pred. He’s not willing to intervene, even though he seems to recognize what’s happening is wrong.

“I don’t care what people on social media think, B. Honestly, we all just pretended to be interested in your shallow vids and blogs to keep you happy. Even E. used to say you and your creepy dad were barely rich enough to be included as Council members,” I reply, leaning back in my seat as if I don’t have a care in the world.

It’s an act, because I’m more than outnumbered, and I definitely have my hand in my pocket hovering over the speed dial for Fitz, just in case. But I also can’t keep allowing them to make me their bitch in public or it’ll never stop. If I cower or simply ignore them, it seems to just encourage them to up their terror tactics. This year has barely started—I don’t want to imagine what it’s going to be like if I let their venom fester.

“Oh, DD,” Purple says, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “We know who you are now and it doesn’t matter if you’re a weak little bunny or another small pred, we’re coming for you. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Before I can retort, the squat professor waddles in with his briefcase tucked under his short arms. Professor Abel doesn’tlookthreatening in his bad suits, tiny spectacles and balding head, but his scent alone is enough to send you running. He’s a Tasmanian devil shifter, and they’re known for being stinky-ass carrion eaters. That puts him at the bottom of the totem pole in size, even if they eat in a frenzy only comparable to sharks. But he’s been enjoying the hell out of exercising his meager authority over me.

“Miss Drew, I will not spend the entire semester allowing you to disrupt my class with your self-centered antics. The rest of thestudents are here for an education, not to make a mockery of our hallowed traditions.”

My eyes narrow and I swear, for a half a second, I feel like I’ve channeled Lucille. Outrage at his audacity—blaming me for the bullshit my ex-friends are pulling—rushes through me at breakneck speed. Something deep inside of me longs to put this inferior shit in his place. I’ve never felt the ‘Rostoff Rage’ as Lucille calls it, but then again, I’ve never been the type to designate other preds as ‘beneath me’ until this moment.

“I beg to differ, Professor, but I arrived early, have my materials ready, and am seated as per class rules. You certainly can’t say that for most of the others right now.” I incline my head to the Heathers and the crowd of hangers-on standing around them.

The weaselly little jerk strokes his pencil thin douchestache, harrumphing as he toddles over to my desk. His sharp fangs aren’t enormous, so unlike Bruno, he doesn’t set off my prey instincts. I blink up at him with an innocent yet knowing expression, knowing if they catch this on camera, I’ll look like any other Council heir asserting dominance.

That should placate Lucille for a bit.

“Your mother and father aren’t here to save you, Miss Drew. Although, I have it on good authority they wouldn’t be inclined to even if they were,” Abel sneers. “Therefore, you will sit quietly and allow your betters to receive the education they are entitled to. Unlike you, they are destined for great things.”

I’m on my feet before I know it, peering down at the runt with every ounce of courage and imperiousness I can muster. My bones ache as I push the bunny back, only allowing the indignation of a wealthy Council heir to fuel my response. “I don’t care what gossip you’ve heard. Lucille would not appreciate knowing that I allowed you to speak to a member of her family this way, regardless of my current position. Try me again, Professor, and I’ll make certain she knows what an insolent toad you are.”

Professor Abel gives me a look that screams murder, but I know he can’t be sure if I’m bluffing or not. Stepping away from me, he huffs again and turns to trundle up to the front of the classroom. “All of you, be seated! We’ve had enough dramatics—this isn’t a joke of a class in the Shird.”

My lips curve in distaste as I sit at my desk again, leaning back as the twat starts up the smart board. I definitely put him in his place, but it doesn’t feel good to behave in such an entitled way. I’m not like my parents and I won’t allow myself to become them deep down, but surviving Apex means I’ll have to use more of their lessons than I thought.

A spitball hits my face, and I turn in the direction it came from to find Todd’s idiot friends guffawing like the hyenas they are. I’ve seen little of my ex since I arrived, and I’m perfectly fine with it. But his lackeys trail behind the Heathers like their pussies are made of solid gold, and I have to endure two classes of their bullshit. Professor Abel grins as he watches me pull the loogie soaked paper off my face and I groan inwardly.

The likelihood of him interfering with their grade school tactics is nil. Putting him in his place only goes so far if he can use these petty assholes to do his dirty work for him. I’m not sure what I’ll do if it escalates further than this kind of crap, but I know one thing for sure: I don’t have a single ally in this class, so I’m going to have to make sure I hightail it out of here the second the bell rings.

Ignoring their laughter, I try to focus on the lecture. It’s about the formation of the pred government a hundred years ago, but my textbook starts earlier than this, and I read ahead. Professor Abel’s not bothering to discuss the differences between various shifter clans, or how shifters interacted before the Council was formed. That’s very telling about who’s writing the curriculum, if you ask me, but I’m in no position to question it. I don’t plan to go into politics—Lucille’s made it clear she no longer sees me as her Council heir since my emergence, even if only in private.

The next object to strike me is a crudely folded note, and I sigh as I unfold it, scanning the immature handwriting on the paper in annoyance. The loopy scrawl dotted with skulls and crossbones tells me Purple wrote it, but I don’t need to look to imagine the expression on her pinched face.

I wonder if the piss smell in your room makes it hard to sleep at night. I can smell it on you from here, so you must not have figured out how to get your laundry done, loser.

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