Page 63 of Let Us Prey

His voice is muffled as he nips my mark lightly. “Fucking amazing, Chessie. I cannot goddamn wait for you to join us. Baby Girl damn near killed me.”

Chuckling, I tip his chin up and kiss his lips, noting the lingering taste of sweetness on them. “I will when she’s ready. I think… I think I’m ready for it.”

The look on his face is pure delight, and he squeezes me to him, lifting me off my feet. “Directing the two of you is gonna be so. fucking. hot. Sweet Bast, I didn’t think my dick could get hard again after last night, but there he is, ready to rock!”

I shake my head, waiting until he puts me down to go over to the stove. “Sit down, Fitzy, and you can tell me all about it—at least until Felix comes down to yell at you.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he lowers himself into a chair gingerly. “Man, Saint Felix of Unfulfilled is going to give baby girl hell when he sees how wobbly she is today. I wonder if I should hide somewhere so I can watch.”

Walking over to the table with his plate, I arch a brow. “If you do, you better have improved upon your skills since the last time I saw you stalking someone. You got caught because you couldn’t stop snickering in the fucking bushes, dude.”

Fitz shrugs and gives me his million watt grin. “Maybe, but I saw a lot of sexy shit before Elektra caught me, man. That tigress wasfiery as hell and fifteen-year-old me was ready to make her my Mrs. Robinson in a red hot minute.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any more confident.

Family

Aubrey

“It was quiteenjoyable when Delores went hunting with us,” Rennie remarks off-handedly.

He’s much less broody tonight, and I’d chalk it up to feeding recently, but even the music in the Tower is lighter in tone. His classical doesn’t calm my dragon as much as house music, but it doesn’t require as much soothing in our sanctuary as opposed to when I’m forced to interact with the general population.

I watch him meander around the room, futzing with things, the restless energy making me chuckle. “If you don’t stop buzzing around like a giant hummingbird, I’m going to call you Fitz.”

The gargoyle turns to pin me with a glare, flicking his tail in annoyance. It’s not unusual for him to strut about the lower level of the Tower in varying degrees of his shifted form, but when the tail comes out, he means business. “Flames, she didn’t run away.”

No shit, she didn’t, and it was hotter than hell when she licked her lips as we fed.

“She seemed to enjoy it,” I sigh, closing the book on my lap whenI realize I won’t be learning anything tonight about synthetic poisons.

“Yes!” The tail snakes over to wrap around his glass of port, and he sips it quietly before speaking again in a low whisper. “I think so too. At least, Ihopeso.”

I don’t know why he’s acting unsure—he could also smell what the hunt was doing to her.

Smoke rings escape my nose as I cross my arms over my chest. “A notoriously vicious predator family raised Delores, Rennie. I doubt it’s the first time she’s witnessed death. Besides, the whole campus knows she strolled off with Fitz after he ripped the head off that overgrown pooch.”

“Not like we couldn’t hear that,” Renard grumbles, running his hand through his hair, as he reconciles his thoughts. “This place needs sound-proofing.”

My stony companion has more baggage than me, and that’s saying something. His infamy may trump his broken heart, but his actions since his exile make me question if his scars are worse. Over the centuries, I've forgiven myself for the mistake I made as a child—despite occasionally getting triggered—but Renard is still bleeding inside.

I’ve never been able to get him to share what happened to him, and it drives me crazy.

But maybe… maybe Delores can?

I don’t know the entire tale, but that ridiculous orchid he treats like Fang Dynasty china is part of the story; there’s magic in it, but he won’t tell me where it originated from. Enchanted objects like the flower, or the talisman he never removes from his neck, have become rare in our world since the Middle Ages. I’d give a broken claw to study it, but he’s quite stubborn on the subject.

“She’s so naïve—and I don’t mean compared only to us,” the irritable shifter mutters as he stalks past me. Now he has his wingsout, folded around his arms like he’s hugging himself, and I groan.

This is going to lead to brooding on the balcony for hours; I can feel it in my scales.

“Yo, Smoky! Where is everyone?”

Fitz’s voice echoes off the walls as he climbs the back stairs. Loud is his typical entrance, and I throw a concerned glance at the pacing man in front of me. Renard halted, raising his eyes to the ceiling as Fitz's voice disrupts his focus, and I snicker.

Leave it to the brash tiger to interrupt the gargoyle’s slide into a good funk.

“Come on, Ren. Let’s go see what our furry friend has to say,” I coax, rising to my feet. “I can’t guarantee it will be interesting, but at the very least, Fitz will be amusing.”

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