Page 74 of Prey It By Ear

For a while, it’s just the three of us, eating and drinking coffee. Dolly relaxes into the rhythm, and by the time Felix shows up, she’s halfway done with her plate. The Raj is in full running gear, his hair pulled back tight and a black compression sleeve on his wrist. He pours coffee for himself and, after a second, pours a third mug and slides it to Dolly without asking if she wants more. She takes it with a grin.

“Everyone ready for today?” he asks. His eyes land on the bruise on Dolly’s neck, and his mouth twitches. “I’d say we’re sorry, Princess, but I guarantee you’d know I was lying.”

“I’m not pressed,” she says with a shrug. “I’ll catch flak in class, maybe, but I don’t really give a shit. I have enough real friends; worrying about random people’s opinions is not on the planner this year.”

“All the pleasure was mutual, so they can fuck off, anyway. Where’s Aubrey and Ren?” The raj eyes the clock with a stern look. “Sleeping in?”

“Probably, but they’ll be in before she has to go, I’m sure. Aubrey will want to see his handiwork in the light, you know.” I wink at my angel, and she rolls her eyes.

Felix grunts as he sits on the other side of our mate, looking her over with a predator’s eye. “Are you going to make it through tap?”

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” she shoots back stubbornly.

“Good. I’ll be in the hallway before it’s over if you need an excuse to get out early.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t make it easier for anyone to say I’m using you guys to get an advantage. We’ll save that for when it’s really an emergency, Felix. But I appreciate it.”

A minute later, the dragon and the gargoyle finally join us. Aubrey’s cardigan is buttoned wrong, and Ren’s hair is still damp, but they look more awake than I thought they would. The dragon fills a mug, gets his plate, and sits at the end of the counter, immediately reaching for the hot sauce to douse his eggs. Ren comes to stand behind me, leaning in to see if the pancake mix is up to his standards. He says nothing, but the approving hum is enough.

It’s a good morning, just like I planned.

The room is quiet for a bit, except for the sounds of eating, so I allow myself the happiness that engenders, even for a moment. As I watch Dolly polish off the last of her pancakes, I think maybe if we have breakfast every day like this, it will balance out all the shit being flung at us during the day.

While the others chat again, I finish eating quietly. Felix asks Fitz to run a background check on the new law professor, and Fitz says he’s already started. Dolly sits with her coffee, watching us, and for a second, she just looks happy.

That’s enough to get me through anything, and I know the others feel the same.

High Hopes

Delores

By the time I clear the double doors of the guidance wing, my calves are trembling with that post-tap, pre-collapse tremor that says I’ll be walking on noodle legs for the rest of the day. A faint, hickey-bright ring is still glimmering faintly on my shoulder; it isn’t a wound, not anymore, but the soft, reddish mark is impressive. I keep one hand jammed in the pocket of my sweats as I power-walk past the office windows, not because I’m self-conscious but because I want to get as much distance as possible between me and the cold, fermented cheese stench of Rockland’s office.

That woman, even on her least atrocious behavior, is like being locked in with the worst C-list villain in every movie ever made.

Percy walks beside me, whistling. Since he’s a skunk, in theory he should have been able to overrule any environmental odor, but he couldn’t release his scent to combat her insane perfume. It would have just mingled with it and made it more vomit-worthy in the small office. Besides, he was more focused on stroking the matte black barrel of the large rifle he’s carrying with a slow, almost lewd affection. It freaked Rockland out, and every time, he flashed me a sly, side-eye grin, like this was the best morning he’s had in weeks. That threat and whatever my asshat counselor spent the entire session dealing with that led to her glaring at her phone and speed-typing angry emails, was a blessing. I have no idea what was bothering her, but every so often she would remember her official role as guidance counselor, glance at me with the sad, rainbow-hair mess and rattle off a question that made no sense.

“Did I help, Miss Dolly?” The skunk signs his question, making sure I see it clearly so I can answer.

I grin as I nod and do my best to respond accurately. I’m still learning, but I think I got it right. “Yes. You were perfect.”

“Good. I do not like that woman, but I am honored to be of service to you. Your family is very important to our crew.”

“We consider you part of our ambush, Percy. You’re all our dear friends.”

As we move across the campus to the Shird, I notice all the still-rushing newbies and the flood of upper-level students emerging from the dorms. It’s day two, so the crowds are thick, but they’ll thin out soon enough. Once people figure out where they’re going and how much time they need, it always does, no matter what school I’m at. Percy hops up the steps with me, completely ignoring the weird looks all the preds give him as he holds the front door open to let me walk inside. We grab the elevator, taking it to the dance studio floor, and when we get to my hip-hop room, he bobs his brows.

The hip-hop studio is a barn-shaped room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one side and rubberized matting underfoot. The professor is already there and I clock her with a suspicious look as we enter. Vera Hanson is a skinny, rat-faced feline of a smaller species. She’s staring at the students as they enter with the bearing of a drill sergeant, and I get a bad feeling about how this class is going to go. Not only do I have another fucking ‘Society’ family person teaching, but she seems to have a giant plank up her ass despite running a dance discipline that’s all about being loose.

Even when I’m having a good day, I just can’t win.

Once there are sufficient witnesses, Percy gives me a salute and heads out so I can stretch. The class doesn’t get long to warm our muscles before the damn cat is lining us up to teach a very quick, very complex set of steps. Within minutes my thighs are on fire and I’m sweating so hard my socks feel squishy and gross. The bite mark on my neck is now pulsing in time with my heartbeat, as every muscle in my body screams. I’d complain, but honestly, the workout is addictive, as if it’s burning off the last crumbs of Rockland’s office with each leap and landing.

The only time I let myself stop is when I catch my reflection in the mirror and realize how wild I look—hair in a rainbow snarl, shirt clinging to me, and the shimmer of sweat covering my exposed skin. It makes me feel, for a second, like a real person who is surviving on her own terms despite all the odds stacked against her.

I like that, and even though I dislike this woman instinctively, I throw myself into her class as if it’s going to save my sanity.

That works so well that I’m surprised when class ends abruptly; the hour goes way faster than I realized. I limp to the bench and collapse to strip off my socks and shoes for replacements from my bag, every part of me hot and jelly-soft. Once I’m toweled off and re-shoed, I take a long drink from my big water bottle and snarf down a small something-or-other bar Chessie sent along. My body needs the extra energy, and though eating it makes me feel burbly, I know I have to do it. Being a shifter with a secret magic side takes up a lot of my calories, and if I don’t watch it, I will have serious issues. As soon as my stomach settles, I get up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head for the door.