Page 28 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Here’s hoping I will be, too.

The folding chairs in the otherwise empty room are arranged in a half-circle beneath bright fluorescent lights. A handwritten sign was taped to the open door. It says:

PREY CIRCLE:

Safe, Supportive, and Non-Predatory

Below that, in much smaller handwriting: Snacks provided. No sudden movements, please.

I take a seat near the end, clutching my purse like a life raft. Gus would’ve loved this—all the twitchy energy, the snacks, the gossip already passing through the others—but when I pick out one male out of the group of seven prey shifters, I’m grateful I left him behind.

Not all shifters look like their wild counterparts. The doe shifter I met—who is sitting opposite of me—definitely does. So does Frannie. Betsy has pink eyes, and Roxy has purple circles. Joey… he twitches. Assuming he’s the rat I want to talk to, he looks like a regular, ordinary human male in his early twenties. Light brown hair. Dark brown eyes. A slight built… but, oh, the twitching.

Yup. He’s nervous alright.

I wonder why?

The meeting starts when Betsy bounces up first, standing in the center of the half-circle. “Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad you came to tonight’s prey circle. Since we have a new member joining us today, why don’t we start with names and one thing that’s been on our minds this week.”

She points at the plump female with dark skin and even darker eyes sitting next to me. I guess, as the newbie, I’ll go last.

My neighbor squeaks. Mouse, I think. Joey is a rat, but this female has got to be a mouse.

“Hi. I’m Marnie. And I’m just grateful no hawks have moved into Moonburrow this month.”

Yup. I was right. Total mouse.

Polite laughter follows. It’s that high, strained kind that means we all know it’s not entirely a joke.

Up next is a tall, striking female with black hair and white stripes like Roxy—only she’s not a raccoon. She’s a skunk, and the reason why there’s the scent of sawdust in the air. It’s an ingredient in the scent-dampener charm. No wonder I’m relying on physical characteristics to guess what my fellow prey shifters are. Apart from picking up on the lemon freshener and sweat, their individual scents are muted.

Phew. That means mine is, too.

Her name is Caroline, and she’s been thinking about telling her wolf neighbor that his howling at the moon is getting obnoxious. The other prey shifters commiserate, but no one has any advice for her.

If we can help it, we don’t go up against predators. Unless, of course, we have the unbreaking protections of one…

Betsy goes next, then it’s Joey’s turn.

I lean forward in my seat.

“Joey,” he says, and I swallow my sound of relief that he is Joey. “And I got a new job this week. My old boss let me go two weeks ago because she didn’t have the hours, but I was able to move from stocking shelves at the apothecary to delivering pizza for Carlo’s. I work five days a week now.”

Betsy nods approvingly. “That’s great, Joey. Keeping busy helps the nerves.”

Keeping busy does, but if he stopped working at the apothecary two weeks ago, what are the chances that he can give me any information about recent wolfsbane deliveries?

I hide my disappointment, hoping to get my features under control as the doe shifter I spoke to this afternoon lifts her slender hand.

“I’m Abigail. And… I think I’m dating a predator.”

A hush falls over the room. Someone drops their carrot stick.

Betsy’s voice turns careful. “You think?”

Abigail blushes, tucking a hunk of hair behind one long, elegant ear. “He’s sweet, really. Keeps telling me he’d never hurt me. But he doesn’t like it when I come here.” Her voice falters, that same apologetic smile on her face that I saw earlier. “Says it makes me scared of him. I told him that’s not it. I just like being around others like me.”

Betsy gives her a sympathetic smile. “You’re allowed to have a safe space. That’s what this is.”