Page 110 of Eat. Prey. Love.
As the music swells around me and I leap, spin, and twist to its rhythm, I cling to the promise of release, not just for Rennie or Aubrey, but for all of us entangled in the web of unsaid words and unshed tears. Our stories might be heavy, but together, we are strong enough to bear them.
That is, if I can figure out which of my stories are the kind I should share and which truly aren’t remarkable.
Sweat clingsto my skin like a second, damp layer as I shake out my limbs, the final pose of the dance routine dissolving into the charged air of the studio. I’ve pushed through another class where Giselle was overshadowed by the heavy glares of biased scrutiny, and now, with each thudding heartbeat, I am ready to vault back into the comforting chaos of my pack.
“Perhaps next time you’ll be able to make it through the routine without mistakes, Miss Drew,” Antonovich says, her stern voice full of pettiness. “Though I sincerely doubt it. Your body was not made for dance and people have misled you about your level of talent at your previous schools.”
I don’t respond as I breeze by the shitty wolf, ignoring the unhelpful criticism. Antonovich has more issues with me than simply being a Council toadie, and I refuse to engage with her. With my head high and my shoulders squared, I move to my corner and get my things packed.
Fuck her and the flea-bitten canine dick she rode in on.
The hallway is a welcome reprieve from the mirrored walls and watchful eyes, and I pace towards the door that leads to freedom, to lunch, and to my men—my anchors in this relentless storm. I’m practically salivating for the atomopshere of acceptance among my family when the small raccoon shifter appears, huffing and puffing as she runs towards me on tiny legs.
“Dolly, I’m expecting some interesting intel tonight,” Raina breathes out, her raccoon eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and urgency. She was clearly waiting for me, and her excitement is like a cold shower on my fiery internal rage.
This could be the key to unlocking the cult’s documents—or, I’m hoping it is.
“From the prey scholars you know?” I ask, mind already racing, sensing the importance behind her cryptic words. “I thought they were already talking with Aubrey. Why is this coming to you specifically?”
“Some prey—especially elders of more reclusive species—refuse to have any contact with predators. The bloody history is too much for them to bear.” Her eyes are sad, but her tail twitches, echoing her anticipation. “Information from these kinds of sources could be game-changing. If we are able to find value in it, we may be able to convince them to contact even more secretive groups like mythical prey types.”
Mythical preds are secretive; mythical prey are downright invisible, even I know that.
“Damn. That would tickle Aubrey pink,” I exhale slowly.
There isn’t time to waste on wondering or worrying about that until we see what Raina is sent this evening. Befriending the elder prey and their hidden ancient groups might give us an edge we’ve been scrabbling for since the start of term. No one in the Council would ever be able to get information from those groups, nor would they have tried. But the Fae might have convinced them to help them hide their refugees or assist with their plans based on a common enemy.
“I’m going to go tell whoever is home at the library,” I say, and just like that, we’re off, darting past students and faculty alike, a blur of movement and determination. Raina keeps pace easily, her smaller form nimbly weaving through the throng. Something in my gut is resonating with this development and I want to make sure they’re all ready when the crew brings over whatever Raina has coming to her tonight.
The library looms ahead, and I speed up. Bursting through the doors, I scan for any sign of my guys, my breaths coming in sharp bursts matching the rapid tattoo of my heart against my ribs.
My gut is screaming like it knows something my brain doesn’t and I have to tell them.
“Chessie!” I call out, spotting Chess at a table in the far corner, books stacked around him like miniature fortresses. His head snaps up, a question in his eyes as he looks me over to make sureI’m okay. I grin, hurrying over to the cheetah to drop a kiss on his forehead before I make my announcement. “We might have something big coming.”
“Like what, Angel?” he asks as he takes my hand and looks up at me curiously.
“I don’t know exactly,” I admit. “Raina came to find me after dance; she’s got some big deal prey scholar sending her something this evening. But something inside of me feels like this is important. The minute she spoke about how it might lead to us contact with mythical prey, it felt like there was a live wire inside of me.”
“I don’t know much about mythical prey species,” Chessie says with a frown. “Ren and Aubrey would be more familiar, I assume. I’d think phoenixes and unicorns and the like would be part of that. But fuck if I’ve ever been taught about them. Much like Apex, Bloodstone’s sole focus was furthering the ambush and the pred narrative.”
My grin widens as I nod. “Exactly. That means the Council will have no influence over them, but the fucking Fae and magic users might have turned to them when they began hatching whatever goddamn plan they’re executing. Prey animals are easily as oppressed as them, and would likely enjoy sticking it to preds by helping the rebels with shit over the years.”
“Holy shit, Angel. That’s a brilliant idea.”
I know—and I plan on following it down the rabbit hole as fast as my thumpers will take me.
Renegades
The sizzleand pop of the stir-fry settles into a low hum as I stand back, admiring the spread on the kitchen counters. Colors clash and mingle—a vibrant array of Korean dishes, each one tweaked to fit Dolly’s strict training regimen. My nose twitches as I examine everything to ensure it’s perfect. Cooking is another form of sprinting: it’s a race against heat and time to create a winning flavor. It’s very meditative for me, much like many of the hobbies I’ve picked up over time to keep myself busy.
Besides, I enjoy being a ‘provider’ in our family by making sure everyone is taking care of themselves—it makes both the cheetah and the submissivein me happy.
“We’re ready,” I say, my voice the starting gun for the feast. My family sighs in relief, coming to fill their plates at the counter in a rush almost as fast as me.
Once everyone is seated, Felix clears his throat. “I know we’re all excited about the prospect of new intel that will get us closer to solving all these fucking riddles, but don’t choke to death inhaling your food.”
That’s the signal to dig in, and my angel doesn’t need telling twice. She dives in with the ravenous Giselle of her dancer’s build, chopsticks snapping up mouthfuls of bulgogi and kimchi with equal fervor. The rest of the group joins the fray, their laughter and chatter filling the space like the warm glow from the overhead lights.