Page 8 of Let Us Prey

Not that any of them will understand or appreciate my talent for assessing weak points.

The scent of something different catches me and I whip my head around, squinting across the gym to see where it’s coming from. I drop the dry erase marker on the tray of my mobile whiteboard, walking closer to the bleachers where students areseating themselves in their stupid cliques. I’ll change this almost immediately when they’re all present, but for now, I want to see why I scent something that shouldneverbe at Apex Academy:prey.

When I see her, my jaw almost drops. The curvy blond has her hair in a high ponytail with wisps around her round face. Unlike most of the females here, she doesn’t have a lot of makeup on and she’s not dripping with expensive jewelry. She’s got hardware, sure, but it’s understated. Her eyes dart to the stands and she scrambles up to the highest row she can get to without being obvious, perching on the edge of the wooden bench with her shapely legs crossed. I notice she’s not wearing the ridiculous knee socks like the others; instead, she’s got on ripped white fishnets and her uniform seems a little baggy.

I should violate her for the tights and the tall combat boots, but I can’t find it in me to do so. How very odd.

I redirect my attention as a group of boys come in playing at fighting like a rowdy bunch of fools. The girls who follow them are everything I’d expect at Apex, so I think I’ve found the Council heirs. They’re all together, moving in a group, and they entered the latest of all. When I flick my gaze back to thegorgeous loner, I can tell she’s tense from head to toe now that these students are present. One girl grins like she’s found dinner and directs her makeshift pack to the stairs as they’re going to head for the loner.

Growling under my breath, I stride over to block their way as they try to go up the stairs. “Late comers sit in the front. Get your asses down to the front row before I send you packing with slips for the Headmistress.”

“Who does he think heis?” one girl stage-whispers as she looks at her friends. She has a purple ribbon in her hair, but otherwise she looks like a carbon copy of the other three. The ones with the pink and silver ribbons titter to themselves, and I feel the rage forming in my gut.

“He’s the fucking professor, and he gave you an order,” I snarl, flashing my fangs in irritation. The nerve of these ‘heir apparent’ kids makes me want to show them howactualrulers teach their children to fight. But I won’t—I don’t agree with most of my father’s methods and that’s simply a reflex from years of brainwashing as a cub.

A girl with a gold ribbon steps forward and I know for certain this is their self-appointed head witch. She stares at me expectantly, trying to pull a power move by keeping quiet until I speak first. Unfortunately for her, she’s fucking with the wrong goddamn tiger. I tilt my head, letting my cat bleed into my eyes and push the will of a true Raj out into the air. Words aren’t even necessary; I use my royal influence to make it known what I expect these idiots to do.

The boys with them drop as quickly as many of their classmates, keeping their eyes below my sight line. One by one, the ribbon girls falter as I keep pushing until the silver, purple, and finally, pink give in as well. Gold is holding up, but I can tell she’s going to give up the ghost soon. Her hands are shaking as she grips her books and struggles to make eye contact. After a few more moments of silence, she can’t fight it anymore and hits the ground with a grunt of pain.

There. Now that I’ve shown them all what a true alpha tier predator can do, they’ll back off.

Except for the one wide-eyed girl in the back row, who’s looking at me with a cute little pout that makes me want to bite her lip. I stare at her from my spot in front of all the bowing morons, trying to figure out why she’s not cowering with the others. That’s when it hits me: thishasto be the girl Fitz is losing his goddamn mind over. She arches a brow at me as I scratch the stubble I didn’t bother with this morning, assessing me while I assess her.

It’s clear she has no idea what it means to be immune to my power because her lips quirk and she finally looks down at her lap, picking up her phone to check the screen. Fitz’s ‘baby girl’ alsodoesn’t know I don’t tolerate fucking cell phones in my classroom, either. Shaking my head, I try to break the spell she has on me so I can deal with the rest of the dipshits.

“Everyone, up! Group of dumbasses who came in late to the front.” Sucking in a deep breath, I decide my twin’s favorite student needs to learn a little humility as well. “Barbie in the back, no fucking cell phones in my class.Capiche?”

The cackling fools make their way to the front row without another word—apparently forcing them to kneel did the trick—and the blond doll in the back stows her phone as she blushes a delectable shade of crimson. I finally feel like I have control of this damn situation again, so I walk over to the board and grab the marker. Clearing my throat, I look out at the rows of preds in disgust.

“Professor! I would like to lodge a complaint. It’s against the rules for any pred to?—”

I glare at the bobblehead with the pink ribbon as I stalk forward slowly. “Who are you going to complain to, girl? The Shifter Training Arena out there bears the name ofmyfamily. There is no one in this wretched dump more qualified to teach you pampered twits how to master your shift, learn to fight, and become the preds your parents expect you to be. There isn’t one person at this school who can best me in that arena—the only person who comes close is my twin.”

Back row Barbie brightens, and that’s all I need to fully confirm she’s the subject of Fitz’s summer obsession. There were rumblings last night about him bullying his way into Renard’s creepy clock tower because someone trashed her room. I don’t blame my brother for being furious; pissing on her clothes is as good as marking her, and that had to feel like a direct challenge to his animal.

“That means you’re a Khan,” the popped collar douchebag says. “You don’t look like one.”

Oh, these fuckers want to die.

Anyone with our hearing could easily make out Barbie's barely muttered words, “He looks like the one I know.”

I can’t decide if I’m angry or impressed, but something in my gut wants me to push her. “Anyone with a pussy knows my brother, Barbie. But unlike Fitz, I’m not so easily distracted.”

The chorus of morons snickers when I come at her, which tells me these might be some of the assholes who destroyed her shit and left me to finish a bottle of bourbon while Renard and Aubrey bitched last night. I make a mental note to pass that info on to Fitz; I owe them for destroying my last night of freedom with the never-ending whining of my grouchy friends.

My words must have struck a chord in her because her spine stiffens, and she lifts her chin. “My name is Delores Drew, Professor,notBarbie.”

Ignoring the gasps and whispers at her gumption, I smile slowly and continue to walk closer to the stairs. I only make it up two before the powerful scent of prey fills my senses and yet again, I feel the need to push her. “I’ll call you whatever I want,Barbie, and you can call meSir. Unless you’d like to be the first up in the ring?”

Her eyes widen in terror and she shakes her head at me, expression pleading. “No. No, sir. I would not like that.”

Motherfucker. That was a mistake.

Now all I can think about is her pouty lips as she formed the word ‘Sir’ and it’s making my tiger—and my dick—rise to the occasion.Fuck, I want to see her squirm.Turning on my heel, I head back down to the floor, approaching the whiteboard so I can hide the evidence of the effect she has on me.

“If you haven’t picked it up yet, this is Shifter Basics 101 and I won’t put up with any of your typical whining and bullshit. I don’t care if you’re injured, on your moon time, have a strained dickmuscle, or cannot sweat because of a glandular condition. Whatever lame ass excuses they let you use in high school areover. You will come to classon time, put away yourphones, and doexactlywhat I say without fail or I will make you regret the day your parents’ condoms broke. Do you understand?”

One bimbette—the silver one this time—raises her hand. “Sir?”

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