Page 9 of Alpha’s One-Night Stand (Shifters of Clarion #3)

W hat do you call a person who has sex with a complete stranger on the first day, on her first day of school, during her first solo night out? Yarra. That’s what you call her.

I open my eyes and immediately realize three things. One, I’m not in my room. Two, I’m naked. And the third? Who is this man next to me?

The previous night comes rushing back to me as I sit up. The pain of a hangover headache nearly knocks me back down to the pillow. I rub my temples for a moment, trying to figure out how things got so out of control.

I look over at the sleeping man next to me. He’s out cold, his head turned toward the window by the bed. This is just great. I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, and I’ve already gone so far off book with my mission. None of this was part of the plan. Shit.

I sit up and lean over the bed to look for my phone. I see it tangled up in my blouse near the desk across the room. I also spot the rest of my clothes strewn all over the place, the remnants of my leather skirt torn into a single piece of expensive fabric. There’s a rag in the corner that I’m pretty sure used to be my panties.

This is so embarrassing. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and glance over at the alarm clock. It’s three in the morning. Wow. I need to find something to wear and get the hell out of here. I sure hope Moonhelm doesn’t have a curfew.

I get out of bed and grab his pants and my blouse and start putting them on. The pants are baggy on my body, so I search around for his belt, which is over by the desk with what remains of my panties. Man. I really liked that pair, too.

I glance over at the man in the bed, my brain scrambling to remember his name. Is it Richard? No, Rob. No . . . I know it starts with an R . . .

Is it rude that I don’t remember? At least I remember the sex, which was amazing. I don’t know who this guy is, but somebody should give him a medal for his sexual prowess.

I cinch the belt tight and pull my blouse over it to hide the bulky waistline. Then I head for the door. Well, this whole time has been full of firsts for me. Now I can check “have a one-night stand” off the list. I pause with my hand on the door. Is it a little rude of me to just . . . leave? Maybe. Hell, I’ve never done anything like this before. What’s the etiquette?

Maybe I should leave a note or something. I walk over to the desk in search of any piece of paper I can write on. There’s not much since Chad had the courtesy to clear it off before fucking me into oblivion on it.

That’s it! Chad. That’s his name!

“Looking for something?”

I startle and whirl around. Chad’s sitting up in bed, his sleepy smile directed at me. He runs his hand through his long dark hair. Shit, this man is as gorgeous sober as he was when I was drunk.

“Um . . . no, uh,” I stammer. “I just wanted to write you a note. Um . . . before I left. Because that would be rude and . . .” I trail off. I must sound like a crazy person. He just keeps smiling and gets out of bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

He stretches, glancing at the clock as he brings his arms down. Dear God in heaven, this man is magnificent. Naked before me in the dim light, he’s tall—practically a giant to my tiny frame. And muscular. His hand listlessly moves over his chest, the light from a streetlamp outside glows on his skin, outlining every ridge. And his eyes . . .

I remember his eyes looking like they were glowing gold whenever he came. Clearly, that was a product of my drunken mind. Right now, though, they are this honey-colored shade of amber. They seem to pick up all the little bits of light in the room around us and shine like jewels in the shadows. His dark hair has fallen down past his shoulders in thick waves, curving over part of his face. He tilts his head at me, a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You’re leaving.” He doesn’t say it like a question. I look away, my cheeks flushing hot from a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

“Yeah. I really should get back to my dorm.”

There’s a short pause, then, “Okay.”

I nod, half expecting him to show me to the door. He doesn’t. He just stands and watches me. I start to feel a strange pull inside me toward him. I resist it and turn and walk out the door.

The walk back was a little nerve-racking. The further I get from Chad’s place, the darker the walk is. I’m a little pissed that he decided to just let me walk back on my own. I guess chivalry is dead.

My mind starts to replay the evening. For what it was worth, it was nice to be held like that. Nice to be kissed. Even though it got a little rough (as evident from the scratches on my hips and, I’m sure, my ass), I felt desired. Wanted. Maybe even a little needed. I don’t know when I’ve ever been with someone who made me feel that way.

I turn a corner and quickly realize that I don’t know where I am anymore. Jeez, these paths all look the same in the darkness, and I’ve never been one for directions. I stop for a second to see if I can make out any landmarks. Trees. And more trees. Ugh, this reminds me of this afternoon in the woods.

I put that thought aside, and my mind replaces it with the sex I’d had with the six-foot-plus man I left behind. Immediately, my body reacts to it. I remember the feeling of his hands on my ass, his lips on my neck . . .

I push that away quickly. Now was most certainly not the place or the time.

I should have asked him to accompany me. Maybe since the campus was small, he thought I’d be able to find my way back. I should be able to. I feel like such an idiot getting lost on campus.

I spot a fountain down one of the paths. Wasn’t there a fountain in front of the dorm? I think so?

Well, something has to be in front of it, so I make my way there. My mind goes back to Chad and how it felt like I was being pulled toward him before I left. Even in the bar, I knew he wanted me, and, hell, I’m not going to lie. I wanted him, too. But the feeling was . . . I don’t know. Ethereal, maybe? The attraction was off-the-scales strong.

Ugh, I need to get back to the dorm and get some sleep. Tomorrow, I have to try again to get my bearings around here so I can get on with finding out what happened to my mother. I swear.

I get to the fountain and stop. What’s that smell? Something . . . I don’t know. I can’t describe it. It’s almost like how Chad smells, but . . . sweeter, maybe? I stand there, and for a second, I think I hear a heartbeat. Must be mine, I guess.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I look around through the darkness, but I don’t see anything.

“What are you doing?”

I yelp out in surprise as I turn toward the voice. A girl is standing behind me on the other side of the fountain. She looks like a student. Well, she’s wearing the uniform, anyway. She’s got long straight hair that’s a shade of red I’ve never seen before in my life. She crosses her arms and narrows her almond-shaped eyes.

“What are you doing?” I say back at her, trying to sound tough. My voice betrays me, though. It’s too high and shaky. She walks toward me, looking me up and down.

“Hmm, messy hair, an inside out blouse, and clearly somebody else’s pants. Looks like somebody’s doing the walk of shame.”

I gape at her, offended. Who is she to judge me?

“Oh, don’t look so offended,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I’m doing a walk of my own, too. You’re in good company.” She sticks her hand out to me and says, “Saffron.”

I shake it, still a little timid. “Yarra. Nice to meet you.”

She nods. “So, I haven’t seen you around here? This your first year?”

“Yeah,” I confess. “My first day, actually.”

She smiled broadly and chuckled. “Your first day and you’ve already got a piece. Damn, girl. You work fast.”

I’m full on blushing now, both embarrassed, but also . . . I start laughing with her. “It just kind of happened. Some guy I met over at Moonlight.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes. One minute you’re having drinks, the next you’re sucking a dick. Story of the ages.” She glances around and says, “We’d better get back to the dorms, huh? It won’t do for somebody to find two young girls hanging out at three in the morning, right?”

“Right,” I say.

I’m thinking that if we linked arms and skipped, we would probably look spot on. We walk toward the dorm, chatting sparingly as we pass icy-looking statues that cast long, disfigured shadows on the ground. I comment that they look alive under the moonlit glow. Saffron laughs at that, but I find them fascinating. Especially since in this light, the shadows seem to shift and change as we walk over them. I’m sure there’s definitely a logical explanation to why. Maybe some mechanical setup with the statues.

Finally, we arrive at the dorm, and to my relief, the doors are wide open.

“Thanks for leading me back here,” I say to Saffron as we both walk up the stairs. “I thought there’d be a curfew.”

She frowns a little at me but doesn’t respond. As we get to the top of the stairs, she points behind her and says, “I’m this way.”

I do the opposite. “And I’m this way.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you around, Yarra.”

“Right.”

She turns to walk away, and I watch her go for a second before I turn and go back to my room. I’m longing for a long bath and some quality sleep. This whole day was a crazy one. I’m looking forward to starting fresh in the morning.

I wake up to a note on my door and a package. I slept a good chunk of the morning away, but it’s not so late that the lunch rush is happening just yet.

I pick up the package and glance down the hallway. It’s alive with activity. Students coming in and out of their rooms, some on their way to class, others coming back from them.

I take the package back into my room and look at the note. It’s a decorative postcard, the school’s emblem on one side, and in gold print on the other it reads, Welcome to Moonhelm .

It takes a second to compute what I’ve received. A welcome wagon of some sort?

I walk over to my desk and open the package. There’s a manila envelope on top of several uniforms all nicely pressed and folded. I sit down and open the envelope. There’s a schedule and a little map of where all the buildings are.

I guess this is my orientation. I look over my classes, and a couple of them are pretty normal. English 101, social sciences. The rest are courses that I’ve never heard of. First Labor, Second Labor, Fifth Labor. Are those some sort of hands-on courses?

It’s kind of weird that no one asked me what I was here to study or recommend courses I should take. They’re just assigned to me.

It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to be a real student, anyway. I’m here to find out about my mom. The first class starts in about an hour. I’d better get dressed and get going.