Page 6 of Come Out & Prey (Apex Academy Capers #1)

My eyes widen as the siren that enchanted Fitz and me responds, standing not twenty feet away in the second row of the orchestra. Now that she's closer, I can see that her eyes are a brilliant cerulean color and the skin that appeared porcelain has a light peachy tone to it that makes my mouth water.

My hands grip the clipboard I’m holding hard enough to snap it, and I have to take a deep breath to find my center. Women have attracted me before, and Fitz has told me plenty about his exploits, but this is the first time I feel the need to experience it myself. Fitzgerald Khan has been my entire world since I was an orphaned cub and I simply found no one who made me feel the same way as him.

Until now.

Blood is rushing through my veins, roaring in my ears as I look at the lovely girl who played with us earlier. She’s obviously a little embarrassed to see me and since I have no idea if she realized we could see her as well as she saw us, I can’t exactly comfort her as my cat is urging me to. Instead, I lick my lips and walk to the lip of the stage. “This is a closed rehearsal. Are you a new student or part of the Shifter Secondary tour?”

I’d been so worked up by the time I got up the courage to slink past the dragon’s office to my next class that I had to ask around to find out what might bring an unknown goddess to our campus at this time of year. If I read any of the stupid memos our flappy Headmistress sent out, I would have known, but Aubrey is one of the few professors I associate with who even attempts to keep track of all the shit she sends out. Ironically, I would have left the library knowing the score if Fitz and I hadn’t been defiling his sci-fi section, but at least I found out before she showed up in the theater.

“Uhhhh…” She dips her head and looks sad as she mumbles something under her breath.

The animal inside of me strains at the look on her face, and I swallow hard. Shit. I definitely can’t handle this if my cat is furious with me for making her look upset. I look at the students on the stage for help, but both of my stars just give me innocent looks. Before she takes off running, I blurt out, “If you’re with the Secondary tour, I think they’re at the gym going over the physical education electives for the fall with Professor Khan.”

“Yeah.” Her face reddens again, and she’s quick to add, “I mean, I know, but I really wanted to check out some arts programs, so I came to the theater, and it was open…”

I’m saved by the tattooed gangster that comprises exactly half of my serious theater students. We have a top-notch facility at Apex and a few extremely talented exiles who are professors, but the arts aren’t a favored major of the rich preds who attend this school. That’s how I ended up being made head of the Theater Department despite my decided lack of credentials to back that title up.

Luckily for me, the dance and singing programs have specific professors, so I only have to manage the technical aspects of performances. I’m a fair hand at scripts and text, but I depend on Rufus and his best friend, Cori, to do the lion’s share of the production work. I would have been much more suited to the English department, but those positions won’t open until one of the old crones or our ancient friend, Renard, kicks the bucket.

People don’t get exiled to Apex for a brief spell; once you’re here, it’s for life.

“Stay put, sweet cheeks!” The honey badger yells from his spot near the piano.

I watch as the adorable girl gapes at his rough exterior as he strides to the proscenium. It’s hard to blame her—Rufus is one of those shifters who looks exactly like you’d expect them to once you realize what business their family is in. Though he's not actively part of the Pred-stasy empire now, Rufus, the gritty looking punk rocker who adores musical theater, was raised there. She wouldn't be allowed to hang out with him at home, but that might change if she comes here.

Even I have trouble saying no to Rufus.

“Walk towards us,” the badger says, jerking his head at his friend. “I want to see something.”

My cat wants me to interject, but I know Rufus isn’t ogling her. He’s definitely not being a creeper; Rufus has a much celebrated reputation for dating every guy on campus who will let him. The angel looks unsure for a moment, but steps into the aisle and does a quick catwalk back and forth for him. I see the wheels turning in his head as he watches her glide over the carpet and when Cori nods, he grins toothily.

“You’re a dancer. I can tell by how you move. So if you want to skip out on the testosterone fueled circle jerk at the gym, you’re welcome here. We have drama and dick, but we could sure as fuck use a choreographer.”

Cori rolls her eyes at the overly gruff badger. “You’re so full of shit, Ru-Ru. If you thought there were jocks jerking anything at the gym, we’d be looking at a trail of smoke as you took off.”

That makes me smirk a little because the polar bear is right. She shakes her purple hair—this month’s color—and sighs as if she should get a medal for putting up with all of us. “I, of course, have no such interest in man meat. But I’m down with you staying to watch or ask questions.”

Talk about a proud teacher moment.

“Yes, Coco prefers the tah-co. Thank you, dear.” Rufus runs his hand through his black and neon green hair as he chews on his lip ring and studies Delores again. “I think you should join us and see what fun the small but mighty theater department is at Apex.”

That seems to shock her, but her apprehension turns to a shy smile as she walks to the stairs on the side of the stage to do as he suggested. I can’t help but grin when she walks across the boards with more confidence now that my motley students have invited her, and I almost put my hand to my heart in an emotional, albeit dramatic, gesture. Her eyes flick to me and when she sees my encouraging expression, her face lights up like the sun is shining on her.

Do not start spouting poetry, Chess. You’ll freak her out.

But her hair is like spun gold…

When I finally check back into reality, Rufus is talking animatedly, his hands waving as he points to different parts of the theater and I have to wonder how long I’ve been composing couplets in my mind. I catch him eyeing me as she responds to his questions and I wince—he can probably smell the arousal coming off me like a dead fish in the middle of the room. He grins wickedly, winking before he taps a finger against his lips. “DD, I think you should take a tour of the entire arts building while you’re here. Fine Arts isn’t a popular major because most of the snooty snoots won’t let their kids do anything but prepare to marry rich or run their empires, but the Shirdals spared no expense when they paid for these facilities. I’ll bet our favorite professor here would just love to show you all the nooks and crannies in this place. He’s such a supportive faculty advisor; I know he’ll make time for you.”

I might not be the biggest pred, but I grew up on Bloodstone, so I know when someone is baiting me.

Clearing my throat, I give him a stern look. I ignore his and Cori’s consistent dress code violations and let them operate with very little oversight, and this is how he repays me? That little shit is going to pay for this once I think of an appropriate punishment. Of course, he won’t care—Rufus loves to stir the pot, and he enjoys watching people squirm even more. When I turn back to Delores—excuse me, DD—she’s looking at me with wide, expectant eyes. Between inhaling her scent unconsciously, like a fucking creeper, and plotting my revenge on my meddling diva, I haven’t responded.

“Yes. I could… definitely do that,” I say lamely, avoiding glancing at the two would-be matchmakers, who are no doubt grinning like fools. “Follow me.”

The angel dips her head, nodding at me as she walks behind me quietly. The silence is oppressive as we walk through the wings and down the hallway that runs alongside the orchestra level. When we reach the double doors to exit into the main hallway, I look over at her curiously. “DD, huh?”

Merciful Apollo, I’m never this awkward. I’m the nice one, for fuck’s sake.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and she gives me that shy look again. “That’s what my friends call me. My real name is Delores Drew, so…”

Drew? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“I go by Chess, but it’s not my real name, either,” I reply as we head up the curving staircase to the second floor. “Don’t ask me to tell you what my full name is—I’m convinced my mother was high.”

That makes her grin, and she makes a motion like she’s zipping her lips. The twinkle in her eyes is absolutely adorable and I feel my cock stir again despite how thoroughly Fitz worked me over earlier. I have to look away before I say something stupid, like how her eyes are like tide pools in the Caribbean. I still can’t believe that the one female I’ve taken an interest in since puberty found her way to my rehearsal after she watched my consort jack me off like a beast. It’s like the Fates are conspiring against me.

Before I can make a monumental error in judgment, I realize we’ve reached my personal studio. She tilts her head, looking at me curiously, and I open the door for her. “This is where people can find me when I’m not teaching or in rehearsal. I dabble in a lot of hobbies, so when the former visual arts teacher passed, they let me settle in here. Unfortunately, I’m hopeless with drawing, but I enjoy pretending I can paint or throw pots. Working with my hands gives me time to write, too.”

Delores steps inside tentatively, peeking at the various projects I have in progress. The pile of knitting makes her whirl around and look at me in surprise. “This is beautiful, Professor. Are you making this scarf for someone?”

I flush, knowing it’s not the most masculine hobby, but the repetitive motions soothe me when I have one of my attacks. “My… The two other professors I grew up with had a lot of responsibilities back home—things I couldn’t be part of. Their grandmother taught me to knit when I was not much more than a cub. It helps me relax.”

“She did an excellent job. Whoever this is for will love it.” Her fingers trail over the material as if coveting the softness, and then she looks at me with another megawatt smile.

I feel she’s not actually reserved; she’s simply terrified to do or say the wrong thing.

“Do you have hobbies or talents, Delores? I assume you ventured into our little corner of the world for a reason.” My question makes her nervousness return, so I step closer, hoping to make her feel less on the spot. “Rufus seemed to think so.”

“Uh… I… Well, like you said, the Council families don’t really encourage the arts. So, even if I dabble a little, I haven’t had any real training or anything.” She licks her glossy lips, then drags the lower one through her teeth and it takes everything in me not to groan.

Inside, I’m warring between my cat wanting me to get closer to her alluring scent and the creative in me wanting to rage that the parents of these kids decide their lives from the moment they’re born with no regard to what makes them happy. I know that I’m lucky Fitz’s parents didn’t leverage me as a political tool as well, but my status as a smaller pred helped me stay under the radar. The parents of this girl, belonging to one of the most powerful families in the Council, have probably crushed her non-business related passions at a young age according to the rumors about her mother.

She’s unemerged, too, so she can’t fight back.

That’s a guess based on her not noticing the arousal practically leaking from my pores as I watch her examine all of my secret projects. Her eyes meet mine again and I curse internally when I see the fear of rejection shining in them. This girl desperately needs someone to be in her corner. “Hypothetical question: if you could do anything you wanted for the rest of your life with no obstacles, what would it be?”

“Be on stage, performing things I wrote and choreographed for people who love seeing me.”

Her answer is so quick that I know it’s the truth. Her expression is so wistful—it reminds me of paintings where the women are full of longing for something off canvas. Delores Drew has a secret passion, and they have convinced her it’s worthless, so she won’t even admit she loves it when asked. Her plight makes my heart ache, but the one salvation I see is the interest Rufus and Cori took in her. That snarky asshole knew by looking at her she was hiding a talent and he encouraged her in a way that didn’t seem insincere.

They’re not wrong when they say psychopaths have a talent for identifying their prey.

Luckily, this particular nutjob has a soft heart for the people he collects and he’s already decided he likes Delores. If she comes here in the Fall, he will probably adopt her immediately despite being a lower class than him. I try not to think about how that will open the door for Fitz and me to approach her, maybe even give her the support she desperately needs. My brain conjures up images of her in unique positions with us, and I almost miss her picking up the journal on the desk.

“Oh! This poem…” She looks up at me with wide eyes as she waves the book. “It’s on the plaque in the courtyard. I saw it earlier…” Her cheeks flush with a delightful rose color when she realizes she’s just admitted to being in a place she didn’t belong, watching something she shouldn’t have.

I know she’s wondering if we noticed her and it makes my cheetah stretch out, purring with pride. My animal isn’t ashamed of being submissive to Fitz; he enjoys taking care of our consort and being praised for our efforts. However, with Delores, he seems to know she’s more prey than pred. I feel my eyes bleed amber and I close the distance between us. A rumbling growl echoes out of my mouth as I back her into the worktable, caging her in with my arms.

“Naughty girl. You were watching, weren’t you? Did you enjoy the show, angel?” I grip the table to ensure I don’t actually touch her, but my cat is pushing under my skin as I inhale the sweet scent of honeysuckle and jasmine.

Bast in a basket. I want to rub myself all over her until she’s covered in my musk.

To her credit, she doesn’t shrink away. Despite not having contact with whatever animal she has, she doesn’t cower under the gaze of mine. Her clear blue eyes are hooded with desire that I can smell as she lets me corner her. Shaking my head, I spin away, raking a hand through my hair and I draw in shaky breaths. This is so unlike me—I never get this unreasonable about Fitz, though my cat certainly would like me to.

“I’m… sorry,” I mutter with my back to her. “That was very rude and quite inappropriate. I understand if you need to file a complaint or want me to call Rufus…”

“No!” she practically shouts. I turn to look at her in confusion and her eyes drop to her shoes. “It’s okay. I’m not upset, Professor.”

Closing my eyes, I have to fight off a smirk. The teacher-student thing isn’t my kink nor Fitz’s, but I know a few people who are into it. Apex doesn’t forbid having a relationship with consenting adult students, though it doesn’t happen as often as you’d expect.

Undergrads who live on campus and have powerful families who could make our exiles infinitely worse than teaching here keep most of the staff from dipping their wicks in the pool very often. The possibility that the younger preds here might not have emerged yet when they arrive and could imprint on us is also a worry—one that would likely end in death if a contract has promised the student to another rich brat in some sort of deal. Instead, the staff are uncommitted and extremely open to all the possibilities available in our little employee village on the far end of campus. Fitz has his choice of hookups when he’s hungry for more, and if I indulged, I could as well.

Unfortunately, this flowery scented recruit from a vicious elite family is the first person beside my consort I’ve reacted to.

I have to fix this fast before she changes her mind and tattles. “If your true love is performing, Rufus and Cori are your best allies.”

“My true love…” she parrots in a thoughtful tone. It looks like the wheels in her head are turning and if nothing else, I know I’ve touched her in the way I’m supposed to, rather than the way I almost did. Looking up, she gives me a lopsided grin before she pushes away from the worktable. “Thank you, Professor. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I hope I see you again in the Fall.”

Nodding, I let out a slow breath as she turns on her heel and heads out the door, leaving a trail of sweet floral scent behind her. My cheetah is pacing inside of me, irritated that I let her leave without marking her with our own scent, and my brain is screaming that we can’t get involved with a student, especially one from her family.

The only thing I know for certain is Fitz and I are in deep shit the minute this girl moves onto campus.