Her Feral Beasts (Her Vicious Beasts, #1)

by E.P. Bali

After she’s done with me, the big wolf takes me to meet Scythe and Xander in a holding bay, bursting with armed guards. Both are handcuffed in plain steel with matching red ‘Danger’, lanyards around their necks, twins to me. Xander is dressed in an orange jumpsuit to cover his nakedness, though his feet are still bare and he sneers at the guards around us.

She gives me the usual once-over before her eyes flick to Eugene under my arm. “The deputy headmaster will see you now.” Her shiny red lips curve into a smile before she turns and sashays out of the room. Scythe follows her while Xander and I are ushered through by the guards. She’s in a blue business dress which makes me think she’s Lyle’s receptionist or PA, whatever they’re called, and she wears her hair in a long golden ponytail down to her lower back. You can always pick out a lion by their hair; they always pride themselves on the length and colour of it. I’ll give it to Lyle Pardalia, he’s smart in sending an anima to get us. The three of us might not be good males, but we don’t hurt animas and children if we can help it.

None of us take kindly to being ordered around, and it’s plain disturbing to see Scythe following anyone’s direction. And here we are, at a school that’s supposed to tame us. It’s so funny I snort out loud and Xander gives me his ‘what the fuck’ look, glowing eyes flashing. We’re taken through a series of corridors to the tune of the lioness’ stilettos, the thumping of the guards’ steel-toed boots, and Xander’s Mongolian throat-singing from his headphones.

Eventually, the floor becomes hardwood and we come across an elevator that we have to get into. It’s a process because they refuse to have us all in there together. The lioness goes in first, then my brothers and I go in one at a time with three guards a piece.

“Mr Pardalia will see them alone,” the lioness says loftily. “Guards will wait here.” “Are you sure?” asks one that smells like an Eastern brown snake and I mark his scent. She flashes him a look that could peel paint and the guard shuts his trap. The three of us follow her into Lyle’s office. There’s fancy red carpet and the air-con is set super low, which I appreciate, but I also know it’s a known technique to help keep the more violent beasts calm.

While I’m used to blatant female displays, I raise a brow as she passes me because I thought Lyle was supposed to be the stiff collar, rule-following sort who wouldn’t tolerate that type of thing. She closes the door behind her and I look at Lyle Pardalia properly for the first time.

I’ve seen him in his TV interviews before, but the beast is something else in real life. He’s a big lion, only a tiny bit taller than me and Scythe, at our six foot six. He wears an expensive navy three-piece suit over a body that’s broad and well-muscled enough to tell me he works out daily. His whiskey-coloured eyes are so sharp they don’t miss a single thing about the three of us, and I know that he’s made an assessment of our ferality in the space of seconds. That’s what Lyle is best known for: rehabilitating rabid—and even changed—beasts. It’s brutal and painstaking work, but his success rate is apparently super high.

There are only papers, fountain pens…and a small faded blue wooden object that catches my eye. It’s in the shape of a person with wings and painted with clumsy hands. I get the urge to break it into pieces. Lyle wisely doesn’t bother to offer the chairs and comes to stand in front of his desk, leaning against it and placing his hands on the edge of the wood in an open position to show us he means no harm. To my chagrin, he ignores Xander and me and addresses our shark.

“Are we going to have a problem, Scythe?” he asks plainly. The fuck? He should be asking me. I snarl, “I’m going to ruin your life, lion.” “Let the men speak, Savage,” he replies smoothly. I know he was waiting for my attitude and there’s a dark undertone that I don’t like. “This guy,” I say silently to my brothers. Lyle’s mouth tightens as if he knows I’m talking telepathically.

Scythe looks out the floor-to-ceiling office windows on our left and stares into the distance for a moment. I have some idea of what he’s thinking, but my shark-brother is nothing if not unpredictable. Eventually, his sapphire eyes flick to Lyle. “There will be issues. I will deal with them. Undisturbed.” Scythe’s voice is horrifying to people who have never heard it, but they don’t call Lyle the Beast Breaker for no reason and he doesn’t show any sign of being disturbed by Scythe’s damaged rasp. “I was hoping we could work together,” Lyle says. I scoff, but Scythe says evenly, “Our truce will be dependent on a number of factors.”

“Of course.” The two beasts stare at each other in assessment. The moment stretches out like a taut band that will snap at any second. Even Eugene feels it and starts vibrating like a phone under my arm. There is so much power in this room that I can feel it burning along my skin like cold fire and it’s as exciting as it is annoying. Eventually, Lyle says, “I will ensure your requests are met.” So, he has a brain after all. Scythe gives a single nod, which is more than the lion deserves. Lyle turns to Xander. “Will your vision be an issue for you here?” Xander growls at the insult to his prowess. “As long as I have my magic, I’m the same as any other beast. Even without it, I’ll deal.”

“Alright then,” Lyle says quietly, his eyes flicking to the three of us, one at a time. “As long as you follow the school rules the same as everyone else, I don’t have a problem with you. And Savage, your emotional support rooster can stay.” “Yeah, yeah,” I drone, patting Eugene on the head. “We won’t go pissing on the furniture.”

Lyle ignores me and hands us each a packet of papers, no doubt a list of the school rules in big letters for those of us who can read. When he tries to hand mine to me, I ignore him and he gives the packet to Scythe instead. I imagine it now, ‘No fucking in the corridors. No sniffing the females. No running around naked.’ “We have a judicial system here, Savage,” Lyle says pointedly to me. “It’s a miracle we were allowed to house you.” By all rights, they should have carted me back to the big boy prison. I can’t imagine what strings Lyle’s pulled to get me here. “No murder. No maiming. Got it?”

“Got a cigarette?” a bored voice drones. I blink myself out of my reverie and turn to see a girl my age saunter in. The first thing I see are thin gold hoop earrings so large they almost touch her shoulders, a skin tight purple bodycon dress and white sneakers. With one hand on her black rolling suitcase, she pops her hip and wrinkles her nose at me. “Get those prison clothes from a dumpster or something?” “No, I arrived naked.” Although they smell awful, it’ll be good to cover the fact that I’m hiding my scent. Animalia can usually scent each other’s order and I shouldn’t really be able to hide it like I do. She nods and makes a face that says she’s impressed. “Nice. Anyway, ciggie?”

“No, sorry.” She rolls her eyes and sits down on the opposite bench, tapping her acrylic nails against her knee. I stare at the glossy black goodness in envy and avoid looking at my own because I know they’re jagged and full of dirt. But I do notice that her pink lanyard has no words written on it. It makes me feel real special to be singled out like this, I’ll tell you that much. Only seconds later, someone comes stomping into the room, but I hear their voice first. “T-Touch me again and I’ll b-break your arm, c-cub.” “Yeah, yeah, dynamite. Get in there.” A male voice, no doubt one of the guards.

The prisoner enters the room growling and sniffing the air—a tall beast with close-cropped brown hair, nose, brow and lip pierced with silver on both sides. Their septum piercing wiggles as they sniff at me. They wear a faded blue denim jacket and matching jeans, leaving no doubt in my mind that they’re a wolf. That also explains the stutter. Some wolves can have issues with speech because they use telepathy so much from ...

“Hey Raquel,” cigarette girl says. Raquel’s head snaps over to my neighbour and they give the girl a sharp nod, heading straight to sit by her. Two more girls with ‘lioness anima’ ID cards enter. One, the blonde and leggy type and the other, an East Asian girl with black to blonde ombre hair. They’re excitedly chattering away about some of the males they saw outside.

I’ve never felt so alone in a place so full of beasts.

“Are we ready?” comes a bright voice. My eyes snap open as I flinch, because I can’t believe someone has entered the room without me knowing. I’m seriously losing it. I need to calm the hell down. It’s not a threat. It’s a short, curvy girl with deep brown skin, long, curly, bubblegum-pink hair and wide, light brown doe-shaped eyes that are staring at me and my handcuffs. Her pupils momentarily shift from round to a long slitted feline version, but it’s gone in a flash. Silver bracelets take up most of her forearms and rings take up all of the fingers curled around the handle of her pink plastic suitcase. There’s a bright pink folder under her arm that’s bursting with plastic sleeves and a rainbow of tabs. Her pink lanyard is plain and her ID card states ‘Tigress Anima’.

“Hey,” I say, smiling at her. She raises a hand to the side of her mouth and whispers, “Ooh, I recognise you from TV.” My heart stutters. “Sorry?” She quickly settles herself on the bench beside me, carefully placing the pink binder on her lap. I can now see that it’s hand-labelled ‘Prison School’ in bright turquoise letters that clash violently with the pink background. “Yeah,” she says, eyes wide. “They sent out a fugitive alert. You didn’t know, did you?” I sigh as the other animas pretend not to be listening, but clearly are. “No, I didn’t, but I’m not surprised.”

“So…” She opens the folder then runs her fingernail down a typed bullet point list. “I read that it’s rude to ask inmates about the nature of the crimes that got them in. So I won’t ask if you really burned down your husband’s house and killed him. But I will ask…” She grins at me with all of her white teeth. “Sagittarius?” I stare at her for a second. “Actually, yeah. My birthday was three weeks ago. How’d you know?”

She conspiratorially taps the side of her nose with a bright pink nail. “I’ve got a sense about these things.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Minnie. And yes, it’s after Minnie bloody Mouse. I was the smallest kitten in the litter and my parents thought it was funny.” Trying not to laugh at that, I shake her hand. “I’m Aurelia⁠—” “Aquinas. Yeah, I know.” She beams at me. “So I made this folder to keep track of anything important. You can use it too, if you like. It has the school rules and maps and everything.”

“You’re my type of girl, Minnie,” I say softly. At one time, I’d been that diligent, organised student. It looked like that was all behind me now and my life as a fugitive had begun. “Then we’ll get along nicely!” Minnie kicks her legs as she grins at the girls around us, who all glower back, but it doesn’t deter her at all.

“Ladies, this is Theresa,” Hope says brightly. “She’ll be your counsellor and guide for the year.” Theresa smiles and nods at us. On her plastic name tag, it has ‘she/her’, and her name and ‘Cassowary Anima’. I instantly know she’s a badass because the cassowary, with its lethal kick, is the deadliest bird in the world.

“Looks like we’re all here.” Her voice is calm and reassuring as she scans us and then the clipboard in her hands. “Alright, we need to have a little chat before we enter the academy.” Theresa sits down on a seat by the door. “Now, Raquel, you’ve told us that your beast leans a little more toward anima sometimes?” Raquel shrugs. “Yeah.” “So you don’t mind us calling you anima?” Raquel nods. “D-doesn’t matter which one.”

“Good to know,” Theresa says, looking meaningfully around at us to make sure we got that. “So! As you all may know, Animus Academy was traditionally made for animus students. Now that we’ve moved on with the times and are accepting all beasts, the school still has some teething issues to sort out.” She looks meaningfully around at us. “I want to remind you that although we have many safeguards to look after your welfare, you are unmated young animas in a place with many unmated males, many of whom are more than a little feral. You need to be on your guard. Y...

Theresa gives us a wary once-over, like she’s assessing our ability to look after ourselves. She stops on me, and I see the barest recognition in her eye before she stands up and leads us out another door. One guard follows her. The remaining three wait for us to follow. I think that’s overkill, looking around at these animas, but I suppose the fact that they’re here means they have ‘issues’ just as badly as me.

So, Lyle Pardalia takes his security system seriously. Fuck him. I glance at Minnie next to me, who gives me googly eyes as we look at all the security…and then I give a side eye at the pink folder tucked so diligently under her bangled arm. By the way it’s bursting with papers, not only does she have maps in that folder, but everything anyone could possibly know about this place. Well, looks like the path to my freedom is pink and sparkly.

Theresa and the guards lead us through cold corridors lit up with blue-white halogen bulbs. Through my four remaining shields, it smells like fresh paint, disinfectant and anti-flea spray, and I try to listen to Theresa as she talks about the history of the place.

It should be creepy, but I spent my childhood playing hide and seek in a place like this. I lost my mother in a mansion like this. And I saw my mating mark for the first time in the bathroom of a place like this. Something in me eases, just a little, at the way the air of this place feels against my skin. Like old magic mixed with the buzz of anticipation. It certainly can’t be my anticipation that I’m feeling, though, but that of the other hundred odd students in this place, waiting to meet us green newbies.

The school is a magnificent gothic monstrosity that was no doubt a part of the old Victorian mansion built by the dragon family that first occupied this land. It’s eerily stunning, with a black facade, black iron lattice work all along the eaves, and gold ornate embellishments around each window and doorway. The central building towers above us and it’s bordered by wings built along the sides before the more recent parts of the school cages it all inside. They’ve painted the newer rendered facades black to match the central structure and I can’t help but feel amused by the attempt to blend it all in together.