Page 37

Aubrey

“It was quite enjoyable when Delores went hunting with us,” Rennie remarks off-handedly.

He’s much less broody tonight, and I’d chalk it up to feeding recently, but even the music in the Tower is lighter in tone. His classical doesn’t calm my dragon as much as house music, but it doesn’t require as much soothing in our sanctuary as opposed to when I’m forced to interact with the general population.

I watch him meander around the room, futzing with things, the restless energy making me chuckle. “If you don’t stop buzzing around like a giant hummingbird, I’m going to call you Fitz.”

The gargoyle turns to pin me with a glare, flicking his tail in annoyance. It’s not unusual for him to strut about the lower level of the Tower in varying degrees of his shifted form, but when the tail comes out, he means business. “Flames, she didn’t run away.”

No shit, she didn’t, and it was hotter than hell when she licked her lips as we fed.

“She seemed to enjoy it,” I sigh, closing the book on my lap when I realize I won’t be learning anything tonight about synthetic poisons.

“Yes!” The tail snakes over to wrap around his glass of port, and he sips it quietly before speaking again in a low whisper. “I think so too. At least, I hope so.”

I don’t know why he’s acting unsure—he could also smell what the hunt was doing to her.

Smoke rings escape my nose as I cross my arms over my chest. “A notoriously vicious predator family raised Delores, Rennie. I doubt it’s the first time she’s witnessed death. Besides, the whole campus knows she strolled off with Fitz after he ripped the head off that overgrown pooch.”

“Not like we couldn’t hear that,” Renard grumbles, running his hand through his hair, as he reconciles his thoughts. “This place needs sound-proofing.”

My stony companion has more baggage than me, and that’s saying something. His infamy may trump his broken heart, but his actions since his exile make me question if his scars are worse. Over the centuries, I've forgiven myself for the mistake I made as a child—despite occasionally getting triggered—but Renard is still bleeding inside.

I’ve never been able to get him to share what happened to him, and it drives me crazy.

But maybe… maybe Delores can?

I don’t know the entire tale, but that ridiculous orchid he treats like Fang Dynasty china is part of the story; there’s magic in it, but he won’t tell me where it originated from. Enchanted objects like the flower, or the talisman he never removes from his neck, have become rare in our world since the Middle Ages. I’d give a broken claw to study it, but he’s quite stubborn on the subject.

“She’s so na?ve—and I don’t mean compared only to us,” the irritable shifter mutters as he stalks past me. Now he has his wings out, folded around his arms like he’s hugging himself, and I groan.

This is going to lead to brooding on the balcony for hours; I can feel it in my scales.

“Yo, Smoky! Where is everyone?”

Fitz’s voice echoes off the walls as he climbs the back stairs. Loud is his typical entrance, and I throw a concerned glance at the pacing man in front of me. Renard halted, raising his eyes to the ceiling as Fitz's voice disrupts his focus, and I snicker.

Leave it to the brash tiger to interrupt the gargoyle’s slide into a good funk.

“Come on, Ren. Let’s go see what our furry friend has to say,” I coax, rising to my feet. “I can’t guarantee it will be interesting, but at the very least, Fitz will be amusing.”

With an annoyed growl, he walks over to the railing around the shaft of the Tower and jumps. I watch him leap from side to side, climbing up towards the belfry, where the main sitting area is located.

So dramatic. He could have used the stairs.

Picking up my scotch and his port, I head up the back stairs to where I can hear the younger twin jabbering like a tour guide. When I round the corner at the top, I gape like a beached orca. I almost can’t believe my eyes, but I know I’m wearing my glasses.

Delores Drew is standing in the middle of our sanctuary, listening to him describe his Super Smash Brothers victories while Chess smiles at them fondly.

What in the seven hells of Dante?

“Aubrey! This place is amazing!” Delores cries, rushing over to greet us. She frowns when she sees the gargoyle perched on the railing by the bell. “Renard, why are you lurking over there like a creeper? It’s not like I haven’t been?—”

“Stop!” we shout in unison.

She knows enough of our secrets now to get the others digging and the look I give her reminds her of the promise she made when she invaded our privacy the other night. Delores’ cheeks heat and she drops her head to let her hair fall in front of her face. It’s adorable, but I don’t want her to forget we’re not ready for everyone to know the secrets she’s keeping.

Chess’ brow furrows, and Fitz stares daggers at us when Delores wilts.

She looks up with a disappointed expression, but shrugs it off quickly. “Fine. I thought we were friends after what the three of us did the other night.”

That statement changes the tenor of the room immediately and I rush to correct her typically innuendo-filled word choice before Fitz zeroes in on the intel. “Renard found her wandering the courtyard—alone—a few nights ago.”

The tiger turns to the pastel-haired girl between them with an arched brow. He growls playfully and Chess tickles her sides. Their reactions make Delores laugh, which makes me smile as well.

Interesting.

“Did they at least take care of you, baby girl?”

“That’s a good question.” All eyes turn to the stairs, where Felix is leaning against the wall with a quirked brow.

Isn’t this a full fucking house?

“We did—eventually,” Renard says as he leaps off the rail and stalks over to take his drink from me. “Calm down, testosterone trio.”

“Who pissed in your port tonight?” Fitz snorts, dropping her hand to walk to the kitchen area. “I’m getting a beer. Bro? Chess? Baby Girl?”

“Ew,” Delores says, wrinkling her nose. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Felix nods at Fitz before crossing the room to find his favorite armchair. “Define eventually.”

I arch a brow at him as I walk over to my chair and settle in. “In this case, eventually is an adverb meaning in due time.”

“Don’t be an assface,” Delores says as she sashays into our circle of chairs. Chess follows her like a lost cub, and she waits for him to choose his seat before plopping onto his lap. His expression is surprised, but he holds her in place. “They took me flying, and I got to watch?—”

Oh, shit. She’s going to spill what we’ve kept secret for a decade. I thought I was clear about it being between us.

Renard surprises me by joining us instead of claiming his spot on the balcony for the evening. He perches on his damned near unused throne, his eyes focusing on our visitor as his tail flicks in agitation like a cat. “Shhhhh. You remember the terms petite lapin .”

Oh, she’s got him extra twisted. He only reverts to French when the gargoyle is riding him hard.

The Raj arches his brow and suddenly, there’s a staring match between all the dominant shifters in the room. Delores frowns at us and crosses her arms under her chest—which, I’ll admit, distracts everyone long enough to break the spell.

“Why are you all glaring at each other like a bunch of fuck knuckles?” Fitz hands Chess a beer as he passes and then turns to Delores. “Here you go—a Dr. Pepper for the lady. I’m surprised we had it. Who filled the fridge?”

No one owns up to it, and again, I turn a knowing smirk to my winged companion as he remembers how to sit comfortably on the throne he rarely uses. Rennie is a fixer at heart, and I don’t know where he picked up the information that our girl likes that soda, or how he knew she’d end up here eventually, but he was ready for her. Despite his grumpy attitude about her sudden presence, he clearly expected this scenario to occur.

He’s such a fucking mother hen.

“I said they took me for a ride the other night and now everyone’s boxers are in a knot.” Delores scrunches her nose in a very bunny-like fashion as she shrugs. “I don’t know why that’s such a big deal, but apparently, it’s very hush-hush.”

Fitz smirks, turning to look at me like a goddamn pervy asshole. “Please, Baby Girl, enlighten us about how you went soaring because that privilege has always been a bone of contention.” He snickers at his own pun like a teenager, and we could play marbles with all the eyes that roll simultaneously.

I’m annoyed by his nosey probing, but Delores beams at him before clapping her hands and bouncing on Chess’ lap. His pained expression makes me cover a chuckle with a cough, but I stay silent to see what she’s going to say.

“I got to ride Aubrey! We went suuuuper high and Rennie had to chase us because he doesn’t fly the same. It was so cool because how many people can say they got to live Game of Preds like the dragon queen! Draconis!”

Fuck. Now she’s done it. I can’t decide whether I’m aroused by her words or irritated that she’s going to get Fitz started on his dragon rider bullshit.

Her excited cry and wiggling are almost killing the cheetah she’s seated on, and the amusement I get from watching him struggle is worth the impending aggravation once her story sinks in with the others. Hell, I’m even feeling kindly enough to forgive her bringing up that travesty of a show.

They didn't take the time to properly research my people.

Felix’s brows disappear into his hairline as he realizes what she means, and Renard snorts. It takes another full minute before Fitz leaps from his chair to point at me accusingly.

“You let her ride the fucking lizard? Not cool, man. I thought we were bros.”

Sighing heavily, I take my glasses off and look at them, moving my eyes between him and Delores pointedly. “First, it was Renard’s fault. He was late to meet me because he was waltzing in the moonlight. Second, who would you rather have on your back? A sweaty cat or a sweet bunny?”

That coaxes a giggle out of our girl, and a round of laughs from the rest of the guys. Fitz pouts and Delores rises with a sigh, walking down to the couch to drop onto his lap. She runs her fingers through his hair, giving him a fond smile, turning his grumpy frown into a self-satisfied smirk.

If she keeps spoiling him like that, he’ll be intolerable.

“Fine. Point taken, spicy lizard. But I’m going to want this story at some point, capiche?” Fitz waggles his finger, first in her face, then at the rest of us. “Flying is cool and all, but I bit that fucker’s head off for insulting her. That’s gotta count for something, right, baby girl?”

Her eyes widen, and she turns beet red, squirming on his lap. The other Khan didn’t react, so Felix wasn’t angry that Fitz broke the ‘no killing’ rules at the Games. Delores turns to Renard and me and mutters, “He did. I mean, I didn’t hear what he said or anything, but I’m sure it was aw ful. That’s the stuff they’re doing all over social media and in class every day.”

Rage fills me, and I count to ten in Arabic in my head. My hand slips into my pocket to squeeze the new—annoyingly adorable—bunny stress ball Fitz brought me. Smoke puffs out of my nose as I work to regain control over the dragon as he writhes in anger in my gut.

He wants to fry the motherfuckers who are torturing her, but I have a better plan.

Before I can lose my cool, Felix shoots me an amused look. “If it’s bothering you so much, old man, we can look into it.”

“Yeah, we can,” Fitz mutters, tugging the girl on his lap tighter against his chest. “Just wait until I unleash hell on those bitches’ devices. The Winged Wonder over there will help me, I bet.”

“Guys, it’s okay. Don’t get yourselves in trouble just because those rich bitches and their pawns are determined to fuck with me. I can handle it.” Delores’ words sound more confident than the look in her eyes conveys, but I nod.

I’m still seething, but her kind heart doesn’t need to worry about shifters as old and crafty as the five of us. She may dissuade Fitz from seeking his retribution with pretty words, but based on the expression on the others’ faces, he’s not the only one who is eager to hand out much deserved punishment.

All our bunny needs to do is say the word, and we’ll swoop in like knights—dragons—in shining armor.

Dragons are especially excellent at settling scores—the painful, crispy way.