Page 82 of Prey It By Ear

Renard takes a sip and closes his eyes for a second, savoring it. Then he says, “I want to fly the perimeter tonight, mon amour.”

“If you’re going out, you should take the eastern route. We need to check the tunnel access by the music hall and you can do it faster,” Felix says as he looks at us. “Is that possible?”

Renard tilts his head, nodding. “Agreed. Flames and I must feed, but on our way back, we will go past that and the area I wish to look at as well.”

Then, as if on cue, Fitz looks up from the computer and says, “Hey, not to be a buzzkill, but I did a run on the new diplomacy professor like you asked. Nothing, and I mean, motherfucking nothing. No digital trail, no facial matches, not even a shadow of a shadow on the dark web. That level of clean is⁠—“

He doesn’t finish, but we all get it. It’s the kind of clean that means serious skills that cost major money.

Felix whistles low. “That’s a problem.”

At that exact moment, there’s a slamming sound from the back of the house, and Dolly appears in the kitchen doorway with her hair still damp. She’s wearing a faded t-shirt and shorts that belong to someone at least two sizes up from her, but it isn’t mine this time. Planting both hands on the doorframe, she squares her shoulders.

“I’m coming with you tonight.” Felix opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “Don’t even start. I haven’t been flying in forever, and I’m not sitting out just because there are stupid assholes everywhere. I’m going and that’s the end of it.”

Rennie smiles, the tiniest upturn at the corner of his mouth, but before he can respond, Chess interrupts with a harrumph. He gestures at the food on the stove and counter, looking at all of us as if he’s going to put shaving cream on our sheets if we don’t eat dinner as planned before we go.

“Okay, Chessie, I get it.” Our bunny walks over and kisses his temple before she goes to fill a plate, and Felix gets up to follow her.

Fitz, not missing a beat, raises his can of energy drink in a mock toast from his perch. “You guys are gonna fuck it up and I’m going to figure out that damn ghostly prof while Felix does dishes. It’s decided.”

The older tiger blinks in surprise and Chess shrugs, his grin wide. “Guess you’re the loser tonight, bro.”

I don’t say anything, but I definitely won the fucking lottery the past two nights—mated my bunny and I got out of dishes.

Fuck yeah.

I’m With You

Delores

I’m standing at the island with my arms crossed and a look on my face that says the next person to mention my outfit dies—so the next person to mention my outfit is going to be Fitz. Because it’s always Fitz, and it’s always to make me lighten up when I’m super stressed or serious.

My crazy tiger is at the table with his laptop, but he clocks my new getup—one of his weird hoodies, long black leggings, and my hair in a topknot that could hold in a tornado, plus the black tennis shoes that Renard insists are optimal for nocturnal pursuits. He cackles before I even sit down.

“Baby Girl, you look like you’re about to go door-to-door selling magazine subscriptions or maybe shovel driveways for elderly shut-ins,” he says, grinning with every single one of his perfect teeth. “Is this, like, the new Annoyed Bunny Winter line? Can I order it for myself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I hiss, flipping him the bird with both hands. “Someone is worried I’ll get hypothermia if I don’t bundle up a bit, and you know it. I stole one of your sweatshirts, so I could layer underneath and strip it off if it’s too much when we hunt.”

The someone in question is Renard, who glides in right on cue with the calm, slow walk of a man who wants you to know he is never in a hurry. “The temperature is dropping, ma petite,” he says, casting a long look out the window. “It is prudent to prepare. We cannot enjoy our hunt and reconnaissance if you are shivering so badly that your teeth chatter, non? I am making certain that is not the case.”

Behind him, Felix and Chess are at the sink, orchestrating the post-dinner cleanup in a ballet of subtle dominance: Chess stacking, Felix rinsing, and both of them periodically glancing over at the other to make sure the work is equal. The entire time, Chess hums under his breath, the tune familiar but too mangled by off-key bravado to identify.

This cozy family shit warms my damn heart enough to negate the need for my warmer clothes inside, at least.

I distract them with a cough and then say, “That stir-fry was amazing, by the way. You could have doubled the recipe and it still would have been devoured in ten seconds, Chessie.”

The cheetah turns, the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks. “Thanks, Angel. I love that you all practically had a pred fight over the last bits. It makes my cheetah and the man puff up. But I have to give credit to Ren, too, because he’s helped me learn techniques and things to get better and be more creative.”

“Don’t be modest,” Felix says firmly. “Our French friend has given you lessons, but you've definitely worked a lot on your own, little bro. The distance between when you made that first holiday dinner and now is huge because you’re always trying to be better to take care of us. Don’t think we don’t notice.”

Fitz pipes up, “Fuck, yeah, babe. That meal? Ten outta ten. You’re like our own personal Wolfgang Duck, man. Super impressive.”

“Guys,” I say as I watch Chessie damn near turn purple. “We’re gonna make him bust something in the damn kitchen. Look how praise-happy he is right now. Best pause it so our favorite cheetah can get control of himself, hmm?”

That makes Fitz howl with laughter, but Rennie just winks. My spotted mate gives me a thankful yet frustrated look as he turns to face away from everyone, as he fiddles with putting away dishes. My grin is wide as I look over at the Raj to see his reaction.

Felix just gives me an eye roll and goes back to drying the last of the plates. “You look cute, Princess, even if it’s not your usual style. And I agree with the gargoyle about keeping warm; you need those limbs and digits.”