2. Chapter Two

Sylas

“Hey, bro,” Corporal Lopez calls into the bathroom from the hallway while I’m rinsing for the third time. “It’s a good thing Colonel Slater built that Quonset hut in the southeast corner of the property. Do you think it’s time?”

We may be the “rejects” of the bunch, but we’re all pretty well socialized. The soldiers watching us are more friends than guards. Lopez must have had the same idea as me. Plan B. I can leave the Reject Barracks and isolate myself until this shitty urge to rut passes. I’m not fit for company—human or otherwise.

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

“I’ll grab you some food. Want one of the guys to pack some of your clothes?”

Would it shock him if I told him I’m so deep in my animal mind I’d rather run naked through the property than wear clothes?

“Yeah. Maybe enough clothes and provisions for a day or two?” When I’m ten miles away in the southeast quadrant, I’ll probably stay naked, but Lopez doesn’t need to know that. That way, when the urge to smell like pee overwhelms me, at least I won’t soil my clothes.

“I haven’t seen the place, but yesterday’s memo said the brand-new Quonset hut is ready for habitation. It’s fully furnished with food staples, a generator, and a water tank. All the comforts of home. You can get some ‘me time’.” He chuckles.

Living in self-imposed isolation may not be my idea of a good time, but it’s better than the first three decades of my life when I was confined to a cell.

“Yeah. Like a spa, Lopez. Pack me a seaweed facial mask and some hot pink toenail polish.” At least I haven’t lost my sense of humor.

“Did you forget you don’t have toenails? I’ll see if hoof polish comes in hot pink.”

Lopez is a good man, trying to normalize my rut. Although the guys gave me shit, I know they don’t mean anything by it. We all have our quirks. I shake my head, almost cracking my antlers against the tile. Quirks. That’s an understatement.

“I’ll pack you some fresh meat and veg.”

“Don’t bother with meat,” I tell him. “Never could tolerate it.”

“Right. I’ll be back in a flash with a backpack full of clothes and produce. Need anything else?”

“Yeah. If there’s any space left, throw in some of the books from my bedside table.” When I’m not out of my mind with mating madness or succumbing to the need to soil myself or jack off, I’ll read.

Within ten minutes, I’m doing the walk of shame through the lounge, once again hearing catcalls. Since I’m only wearing khaki shorts, this time they’re ridiculing my lack of clothing. They may not say it, but I imagine I’m not the only one who resents the need to wear clothes—it’s a throwback to our animal DNA.

“First the smell, now we have to look at your shaggy legs and tail?” Of course, it’s Grizz. He has to give me shit coming and going.

“You only wish your ass looked this good in a pair of khakis,” I snipe, still not exactly sure why the brass wants us to wear Hawaiian shirts and khakis. I guess it’s better than the black jumpsuits the mad scientists made us wear.

I stride out of the barracks, pull the backpack on, and inhale deeply. Over the tantalizing scent of the twenty women almost ten miles away, I can enjoy the smell of pines in our little slice of heaven here in the middle of nowhere, Texas.

When I take off running toward the Quonset the Colonel set up in the remote southeast corner of this enormous acreage, all my cares dissolve. I love to run. It’s something that was often denied me in my captivity.

My animal DNA allows me to outpace any of the soldiers I’ve raced against when we’ve been having fun. It’s autumn, but the chill in the air doesn’t bother me. Although my top half is hairless, my bottom half is covered in a fine tan coat of fur.

This will be good,I tell myself. I’ll be alone for the first time in my life.