I’d never seen a bunch of apex predators look so nervous.
“It’s fine,” I told the nearest, who was getting help with his bow tie from another predator, only this one looked like it.
The first was named Jace, a young Were with milk chocolate skin, a buzz cut, and a strong preference for baggy jeans and tank tops, except for today, when he’d donned a tux. It had been tailored to fit him, yet somehow didn’t. Or maybe it was his nervousness that was communicating itself through the clothes.

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