Page 7 of Missing

"Let's take a shortcut through the courtyard," Melody suggested, leading me through a set of side doors.

The courtyard was a slice of Eden amongst the stone, a garden meticulously manicured yet wild around the edges. A chill skittered down my spine—not from the cool air, but from the raw pulse of magic that I could almost taste on my tongue.

"And over there," Melody pointed towards the cluster of buildings encircling us, "that's the dorm for the underclassmen." She indicated a stout structure with ivy creeping up its sides. "And that one, even lower."

"Hierarchy much?" My lips twitched into a smirk, noting the subtle stratification.

"Welcome to Oakland Harbour," she intoned dramatically. "And there—" She gestured to an imposing edifice that seemed to look down on the rest with old-world arrogance. "—is where we, the top-level elite, lay our heads in restful slumber."

Something was thrilling about being at the peak of the pecking order, even if I didn't fully understand the game yet.

"And that..." She spun, her hair catching the light as she pointed to another building, "is where you'll be tortured—I mean taught, and that stern monolith is where the staff plots our fates."

"Plotting and torture." I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, my guard, dropping a fraction more in Melody's bubbling presence.

"Lastly, the food hall," she said, indicating a building with wide doors and the buzz of conversation spilling out. "Where sustenance meets gossip."

"Two of my favourite things." I let the aroma of cooking draw me a step closer before pausing. "Thanks, Melody. For all of this."

"Anytime, Harper." Her eyes glinted with a promise. "Just remember, everyone needs an allie here. And I'm happy to be yours."

"Allie" I echoed, rolling the word around in my mind like a key. In this strange new world, I had a feeling I’d need all the allies I could get. But something told me that Melody Ryan was more than an ally. She was a lifeline.

Chapter 7

Dante Heed

The itch under my skin was driving me mad. It was like a million ants marching over my nerves, demanding, clawing for something I couldn't give 'em. I groaned, rolling out of bed with the grace of a newborn pup, all limbs and awkwardness. The damn sun had already claimed the morning, and there I was, lagging behind like I'd been caught in a snare.

"Shit," I muttered to the empty room, my voice gruff from sleep or maybe frustration—probably both. My wolf was restless, itching to stretch its legs in a way that human skin just couldn't accommodate. I’d overslept, missed the run that kept the beast within at bay, and now I was paying for it.

Stumbling into the bathroom, muscles tensed and begging for release, I cranked the shower knob to the right. The icy blast hit my skin like a slap, goosebumps erupting across my chest, and down my arms. A hiss slipped between my teeth, but the cold was a welcome shock. It cut through the fog in my head and sharpened my edges.

"Last night," I breathed out, the frigid water streaming down my back, "Hell of a night."

Flashes of Jessica, Yasmin, and Olivia tangled in between Griffin, Orlando and myself flickered behind my eyelids. Legs and lips, whispers and moans; the memory alone was enough to stir the heat in my veins. Being a wolf shifter came with perks, sure, but damn if the high sex drive wasn't both a blessing and a curse. I needed to expel energy—a lot of it—and when I wasn't pounding the pavement with four paws and a tail, well...

"Running's out," I acknowledged, the words echoing off the steam-less tile, "so guess I got one fix left." My chuckle was a low rumble lost under the relentless cascade of water. Last night’s company had been more than willing to help me burn through the excess, their hands and mouths as eager as mine, fuelling the fire rather than dousing it.

As I stand under the steaming water, my hand instinctively reaches down to grasp my hardened shaft. The memories from last night flood into my mind, igniting a fire of desire within me. The sight of Jessica on her knees in front of me, Yasmin bent over for Griffin, and Olivia riding Orlando cowgirl style flashes through my mind like a hazy dream. With each stroke, I feel the pressure building in my groin, fuelled by the images and sensations from the previous night. The warm water acts as a slick lubricant as I pick up pace, my movements becoming more urgent as my pleasure intensifies. Finally, with one last hard tug, I feel myself reaching the brink of release. My entire body tenses as I let go, shooting my load onto the shower floor in a much-needed release of some of the pent-up energy inside of me.

Now all I craved was a different kind of rush, one where my heart hammered against my ribs not from pleasure but from the pure, unadulterated freedom of the shift. The thought alone settled some of the restlessness, a promise of what the night could bring—if I made it through the day without going stir-crazy first.

"Damn," I muttered, towelling off briskly before reaching for the uniform that seemed to shrink every day. The fabric of the shirt strained across my broadening shoulders, a testament to the changes wrought by recent shifts. Three months ago, I was just another 21-year-old with an edge; now, I was something more—something that didn't quite fit into human clothes or human norms.

"Need that new size already," I grumbled under my breath as I shoved my arms through the sleeves. The pants weren't any better, clinging to thighs that had seen too many sprints in wolf form. A sigh escaped me as I buttoned them up, forcing the material to contain what nature had enhanced.

“I fucking hope I don't pop a button today," I say to myself.

With a final check in the mirror, ensuring no telltale signs of my otherness showed, I grabbed Orlando's key card from the drawer. We all had one to each other's rooms—trust and necessity made us less possessive of our privacy.

A few strides took me across the hall to Orlando's room, my knuckles rapping against the door in a quick staccato before I swiped the card and stepped inside. "Orlando, you decent?" I called out, half a tease, half a warning.

"Always am, unlike some people," came his dry retort. Orlando sat at his desk, his lean, muscular frame hunched over a pile of books that looked more intense than any workout. His mop-like black hair fell into his eyes, hiding those calculating green depths that missed nothing—not even my impatience.

"Seriously, Orly, if she's not a knockout, I'm gonna be pissed," I quipped, plopping onto the edge of Orlando's bed. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, a testament to the muscle I'd packed on recently. The anticipation of meeting the new girl buzzed through me like static.

Orlando didn't look up from his book but tossed me a dry chuckle. "Because that's what matters most, right?" His tone was thick with sarcasm, but I could see the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

---