Page 5 of Come Out & Prey (Apex Academy Capers #1)

Exiting the bathroom, I place my hands on my cheeks, feeling the skin burning under my touch. The flush won’t go away, no matter how many times I dabbed my neck or face to cool down. I’m not any different from any other teen—I have my moments and this was clearly one of them. Sitting under that tree and watching the gorgeous men in that room might sound a little creepy, but I can’t explain why I couldn’t take my eyes off of them other than an excess of ‘horny-mones.’

Kill me now.

I’m so flustered that I used Gold’s stupid nickname for a bodily function. I swear, if you’re not careful, being friends with them is like slowly being assimilated with the Kardashian sect of the Borg. Their culture seeps into your vocabulary, tastes, and mind before you even realize it’s there.

The whole ‘sexual overdrive’ thing is definitely my fault. I’ve steadfastly refused to use losing my virginity to force my animal to emerge, and because of that, it’s made it hard for me to decide when it’s actually right for Todd and me to take that step. He’s been patient, but that won’t last for much longer. His birthday is on prom night, and once we’re both eighteen, it’ll be more difficult to resist the siren call of physical intimacy.

Plus, he’s a male teenage shifter. Their urge to claim a mate gets stronger once they turn eighteen as a biological imperative, and though I believe we are mates, the families won’t stand for us holding out much longer.

I know for damn sure that Bruno will get involved if we don’t.

Taking another deep breath, I try to steady myself. The Heathers and the boys headed for the gym to sign up for their fitness elective and mingle with the jocks. I’m less thrilled about joining them because I have zero intention of scouting college guys, nor do I think they’ll offer dance here, so I’m going to worry about that later. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll have something less... violent than sports next semester. Since I’m on my own and trying to get my heart rate to slow down, maybe I’ll go towards the arts and humanities building.

If I’m lucky, an English teacher might be available to discuss my options.

My fingers rifle through the blood red and black folder they gave us at the start of the tour, and I sigh in relief when I pull out the map of the grounds. It’s printed like an old style Gothic map and it makes me giggle. Of course, Apex wouldn’t have a younger graphic designer do a fancy enhanced map with digital rendering and fancy photos—no, this school is all about tradition and the old ways.

That’s why we have a map that looks like it’s straight out of the Shire, and it’s hysterical.

I mean, it’s not like they couldn’t afford to go on Fanger and hire someone .

With a shake of my head, I note that the library is close to the building I’m looking for. I slip the folder into my purse and slide my Bottega Veneta cat-eyed sunglasses on. The doors of the giant atrium at the front of the library automatically open and I groan as a burst of hot air washes over me. Shifter Secondary would pick the hottest day of the month to tour a school that separates their buildings with football field sized spaces. I venture forth, map clutched in hand, as I head south towards the ornate building at the other end of the lake.

Luckily, no one can see me watching the water shifters have a class through my tinted frames. I’m truly hoping that my animal doesn’t emerge as part of that class. It’s possible, given the Drew lineage from Bruno—he’s a croc and his father was a shark, but I have no interest in having to learn gills or whatever the hell else the amphibians, reptiles, and other water preds have to learn at first. There’s a school of orcas leaping over the horizon, and I wonder how Apex divides the fresh and saltwater shifters.

Wrinkling my nose at the map, I notice that there’s a second, smaller body of water near the dorms. That must be where the freshwater shifters wet their flippers. It occurs to me that despite Todd’s family lineage of land preds, there could be water-based species that are recessive. He could turn out as something gross and slimy—that’s a horrifying thought. I can definitely get behind a bear or a tiger, but I draw the line at breeding with a fucking fish.

Hera, help me... I just can’t fathom it.

I shake my head to ward off the chills associated with imagining Todd or me emerging as non-land dwellers.

A glance at the map distracts me again when I notice that there’s a clearing specifically marked as a Khan Training Area. That’s where I’ll hope we end up on this tour. I don’t know what kind of teacher they have here, but the one at Shifter Secondary was pretty laid back. If someone emerged early but couldn’t transfer to Apex, the bear shifter in charge of P.E. would switch their fitness elective to beginning shifter training with our resident counselor, Arwen. She’s the luna of the Zion pack and loves working with new shifters.

Something tells me we won’t get a professor with a gentle touch here, though.

I approach the arts and humanities building, tilting my head to gaze up at it. It’s in a completely different architecture style than the rest of the academy. It almost looks as though someone with money upgraded the facilities, but insisted that the school build ‘their vision’ instead of something that complimented the rest of the campus. Honestly, that’s not a stretch, knowing the whims of the elite predators who make up the council and heads of state.

Opening the doors to the building, I chuckle to myself when I see the name of the benefactors. That explains everything about how this place looks without having to ask a single question. The Shirdal Convocation Arts and Humanities Complex is a cluster of round buildings surrounding a central tower that I guarantee the raptor preds use for their flight training. They might use the clock tower as well, but I didn’t see anyone near it as I passed, so it may not be a student zone.

My father loathes the Shirdals, and I’ve never been allowed to associate with the lower avian preds. Every time he has to attend a council meeting that involves the Shirdal heir, he spends days growling at Matilda—although she’s a hawk and not an eagle. Afterward, he rants about the Shirdals refusing to breed with the Leonidas pride after a rift between the families. That’s why we don’t have griffins in the States currently, and he feels they’ve lowered our standing internationally.

I don’t have the patience or the interest to decipher his drunken predator breeding theories most of the time, so I don’t know exactly what the big deal is.

Who cares if we don’t have griffins? I sure as hell don’t.

The cool air of the quiet foyer of the arts building is a welcome change from the oppressive heat outside, and I look around. There’s a gigantic statue of an eagle tearing apart a prey animal in bronze in the center of the room. Twin sets of steps lead to the next floor, and behind the statue, there’s an enormous set of cherry wood doors. I walk around the ugly sculpture, curious to see what the curved doors lead to.

Set into the marble above the doors is a sign I never expected to see at Apex Academy: Aziz Shirdal Memorial Theater. Blinking, I place my fingertips on the door hesitantly. I’ve always wanted to perform in a play or, even better, a musical. My parents refused to let me try out for anything in all my years of schooling, so it limited my singing to my hairbrush in the bathroom. I press my lips together, deciding that I’m not quite brave enough to see what’s in there just yet.

I’ll come back once I find the head of the English department. After all, it’s not like it’s going anywhere, right?

“Thank you, Mrs. Cormac. I will start those books over the summer, so I’ll be prepared.”

The ancient shifter eyes me through her thick glasses, her disapproval obvious. I’m not sure if it’s because I creatively altered my uniform, she dislikes larger predators, or she hates students, but she might be the rudest person I’ve met on campus. Shifters don’t age at the same rate as humans, and many of us don’t age at all until very close to death. However, the crusty head of the English department made certain to reassure me she’s nowhere near death, and that any shenanigans in her classroom would result in being nicked deep enough with her spur that I’d spend several days in the infirmary while I writhed in pain.

I’d never met a fucking platypus shifter in my life, and I’m not sure I ever want to again. Thank Athena she didn’t decide to show me any of her shifted forms. She must be a mean old witch to avoid any of the much bigger carnivores in this school deciding to eat her over a poor grade.

Sighing, I lean against a wall, wishing I could find one thing to help me believe I’ll survive the four years at Apex Academy without my soul dying. Hateful old bats with no faith in my talent staff, my focus area—creative writing. My parents despise my love of books and writing, the Heathers and the boys think it’s nerdy and useless, and I can’t even get support at school.

I feel like I’ll be very lonely at this stupid academy, and I hate it.

Suddenly, I remember the heavy cherry doors in the archway downstairs. The lure of doing something that will piss off all the people who think I’m a bubble headed dreamer is thrumming in my veins. I chew on a fingernail for a moment, thinking about how furious Lucille will be if I disobey her edict.

Is this modicum of rebellion worth the fallout when she finds out?

Yes. Yes, it is. I’m tired of being the perfect daughter, heir, girlfriend, friend… only to feel like I’m still on the outside looking in. Nothing I do is good enough, and I’ve spent far too long doing what they expected instead of what makes me happy.

Besides, I’m only peeking in to see if they have any sign-ups for fall tryouts. That’s not exactly Rebel Without A Cause stuff, right?

I push off the wall, striding down the hallway towards the stairs at the front of the building. My heels clack on the steps as I scurry down them as quickly as possible. I have to do this before I lose my resolve. If I don’t, I’ll never take the first step. When I get to the bottom, I hurry around the overly graphic eagle statue with a grimace and stand in front of the doors.

Straightening my spine, I push them open and walk into the large, ornate theater space. My jaw drops as I take in the velvet curtain, polished proscenium, and cushy seats. This is a masterpiece of a house, one to rival the theaters on Broadway, and I’m almost giddy to see what backstage looks like. The Shirdal family must have donated an absolute shit ton of money to renovate this space, and I wonder if it even gets used to its full capabilities in a school like this.

As I walk closer, I make out three people standing up center, clearly having an intense discussion. I can’t make out the words yet, but two appear to be students—a girl and a guy—and the guy is gesticulating wildly. He’s one of the most frightening men I’ve ever seen, with almost every inch of his exposed skin covered in badly drawn tattoos and a jet-black mohawk tinged in green. His appearance alone would have sent me running in the other direction usually, except for how joyfully he’s chatting with the girl next to him. She’s the most unique shifter I’ve ever seen— all rich sepia toned skin, a colorful undercut, and an outfit that screams Blackcraft Cult from head to toe.

And the third shifter is… oh no.

Sweet baby Artemis, even the fates are conspiring against me. I have to get out of here before anyone sees me.

There is no way I can interact with the shifter I watched get railed within an inch of his life at the library. His blond curls are pulled back in a loose man-bun that is just messy enough to imply he’d recently rolled out of bed—or out of a roll in the hay. Pale skin practically glows under the stage lights and I can feel my gaze drawn to his hands—mesmerized as I watch him furiously take notes while the students talk.

I’d watched his expressive face, and the adorable silver glasses as he writhed in pleasure. His lover was taller, with long dark hair that fell over his shoulders as he held onto the smaller man. They were both so goddess blessed hot I couldn’t help myself, and now… I hope they couldn’t see me, but I can’t face him after seeing them like that. I just got my blood pressure backdown and now my heart is trying to leap out of my rib cage. I slowly back away from the stage.

“Hey! Blondie!”

My eyes must be as wide as prey as I turn to answer the shout from the curvy girl with the bright purple hair and tattoos. I can’t force words out of my mouth, so I just point at myself like a blithering idiot. She rolls her eyes, nodding as she crooks a finger at me. Numbly, I walk down center, trying to ignore the flush that I can feel creeping up my spine to my face.

When I halt in front of the stage, the students look at me, clearly waiting for something. All I can do is stare at the hot blond, imagining myself sandwiched between him and his sexy top as sweat drips from our bodies.

Oh, my fucking gods, what is wrong with me today?

Pressing my thighs together, I pray that the other two shifters on stage haven’t had their animals emerge yet, because I know I’m dripping pheromones and arousal everywhere.

I don’t know if my life could get worse, but based on today, I doubt it.

“What’s your name, sweet cheeks?”

I look at the mohawked, tattooed student for a moment with my mouth open before I croak out, “Delores. But my friends call me DD.”