Page 78 of Her Feral Beasts

It’s empty.

Allmy underwear is missing. Like, gone. Including my pretty new thong. The drawer is empty except for my tampons and a plastic packet that I lift out.

“He didn’t!” I screech like a cockatoo.

Minnie rushes over from where she was lighting incense at her altar and gapes at my drawer too.

“Do you think it was Savage who took your underwear, or Scythe?” she asks, clearly trying not to laugh. “Honestly, it seems like something Savage would do. That and the chocolate give it away.”

Holding up the bag of Freddo Frogs, I touch my still swollen lip, because ofcoursehe would. I groan, “Somehow, Xander and Scythe don’t seem like the panty-stealing type.”

“Anyway,” Minnie continues. “Just buy more.” To be honest, it’s kind of disturbing that we’re just used to Savage coming in here now. Just another day at Animus Academy. Murder, theft and chocolate.

But the one thing I’m thinking of that dominates my mind is: I simply can’t go commando to a meeting with Lyle.

“We can’t go to the village until Wednesday!” I groan.

Minnie makes a face. “Oh, shoot. You’re right. So you’re going to go a whole five days sans knickers?”

“My period’s due at some stage,” I groan. And I don’t say that my pussy has been weeping every time I think about the psychopaths and that they’re due to return to classes on Monday. While I can clamp down on my scent, the weeping pussy, I cannot. I need underwear like Minnie needs her pink folder.

“Message Theresa and tell her we have an emergency.”

I do just that on our tablet, but the reply comes back with the fact that she knows I have a meeting with Lyle now and that I need to get permission from him.

“I think I’m actually going to cry.” I throw myself on my bed. “How will I explain it to him?”

Minnie giggles. “Make something up! You have to go now, anyway. If you’re late a second time, he might spank you.”

Casting her a dirty look, I storm out of the room, her chortles following me.

I stomp down to the guards at the dorm entrance and two of them take me to Lyle’s top floor office. But the trip there is excruciating because all I can think about is my pussy lips flying free in the wind and the fact that I sprinted out of his office that last time like a fool. The fact that heorderedme out like an insubordinate.

My clothes need to be washed—which we have assigned days to do them on—so all I have left is one of myappropriatedresses, if I don’t want to wear the sexy ones I have planned for classes. It’s deep blue to match my eyes, but far too nice for the likes of this school. I decide it will be the dress I’ll wear to the trial. No harm in looking nice, right?

But the dress is more thannice, it shows a little cleavage, and I’m very happy with my decision when the elevator doors open and Georgia catches sight of me andseethes.

Yeah, lion-girl, I can dress with style too.

We now have a thing, Georgia and I. We’ve decided to hate each other. Her eyes drag up and down my body, but she makes no move to get up from her desk. So I leave my guards to wait, stalk past her with my nose in the air and knock on Lyle’s door.

“Come in.” His deep voice hits me right in the ovaries and I wonder how it would sound right up against my ear.

Shit. Focus.

I steel myself and open the door. Luckily, Lyle is busy with something on his desk, so I get a chance to collect myself in his striking presence. He’s in a blue shirt and slacks today, as if on the weekend he lets himself off with the three-piece, though he looks no less impressive and sexy as all hell. I suddenly realise that we’re almost matching. My dress is practically the same colour as his shirt.

My entire body heats up like I’m standing in an oven. The space between my legs throbs and I command my vagina to control herself.

I look away from him to his desk, where there is not a speck of dust nor pen out of place. The one thing that is a little odd however, is a small wooden, winged doll propped up against his pen cup. It’s roughly carved, as if hewn by clumsy hands and the blue paint on it is faded and chipped as if small hands have held it for years. I wonder if it was a gift from a niece or nephew.

Lyle doesn’t even look up at me when he says, “I’m glad to see you can read the time, Miss Aquinas.”

After two weeks, I’m getting used to bantering with people now, and Minnie is an excellent verbal sparring partner. But I still can’t look at him to give him lip, so I glance outside his window as I say, “Oh yes, Mr Pardalia. I can read numbers and everything.”

From the side of my eye, I see him look up at me in mild surprise. His pen pauses above the piece of paper he’s writing on and he stares at me for so long that I turn to look at him, brows raised. His features harden as he looks down to continue writing.

“We’re going for a walk today,” he says mildly. “I don’t think you like sitting down.”

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