Chapter 11

What even was that? I'd meant to continue on, pulling in more breeders after my heat ended, but after that man, I was so shaken it was all I could do to press the button and wait for someone to come get me.

A desire to move, to act, pounded in my veins, and I undid the straps, sitting up on the bed despite my exhausted state. But to act on what? I had nowhere to direct my energy, so I just perched on the edge of the bed like a good little breeder, waiting for the coordinator to come take me to the freshenup room.

He'd finished. I'd felt it shudder through his body, the tension and release of it. I'd been prepared for him to leave, for the terrible emptiness when he pulled himself from me, but he hadn't and when my heat had risen again, he'd grown hard like his body was made for mine. Like he lived to slake my need. A shiver raced across my sweat-soaked skin, the room no longer feeling warm and cozy.

Idiot that I was, I'd spoken to him, and what was worse, he hadn't spoken back. He'd pushed me down onto my back and fucked me until I couldn't have said another word if I'd wanted to. To speak through my heat—it wasn't something that should've been possible, but the words had been pulled from me, like I'd been compelled by the sheer magic of the moment.

And that was him restrained, held in check by the restrictions of the breeding room. He must be new. Must be. No way was he someone I'd met before. The way he'd been so adorably hesitant at first warmed something in my chest. Like he was nervous and didn't know what he was doing but was determined to do it well. He'd figured it out, and damn had he done so, bringing me to my release with an ease even the heat shouldn't have made possible.

What was I doing? I should be focused on the goal, on the pregnancy I needed to secure my place, not fawning after some hot guy who may or may not have come twice.

By the time the coordinator arrived, my heart rate had slowed and my breathing had evened out. I was feeling much more myself, and I smiled at the same brown-haired girl who had set me up. The vial I'd swiped secured in my palm. Smiling at the girl, I went to ease myself off the bed when she held up a hand.

"Not so fast, Sylvia. I still need to check you."

I frowned. How could I have forgotten the standard procedure? Knowing what to expect was something I prided myself on. Angrily, I lay back down on the bed, spreading my legs and averting my eyes when I heard the coordinator's gloves snapping into place.

She must've assumed my mood was directed at her because the coordinator remained quiet throughout her task, gently squelching a finger into place. Removing it, she took off her gloves with another sharp snap and wrote a note on her clipboard.

"Let's get you to the freshenup room," she said with a false cheeriness. I let her help me up and escort me to the freshenup room, its flowered wallpaper welcoming me after a job well done. But that last bit with The Stag hadn't felt like a job. I'd dare say I'd enjoyed every second of that man's company.

Swallowing the strange sense of excitement gripping my chest, I smiled my thanks at the coordinator and set to freshening up.

I wanted to look my best when I met The Stag without his mask.

After Syl, everything around me held so much less substance, and I walked into Pack 103C Breeders on shaky limbs, going up to the group of guys crowded at the counter.

A guy with slicked back hair and a jean jacket cleared a space, but nobody stopped talking. That was perfect for me. It had always been my goal to slip in amongst them, to hide in plain sight. I grabbed an unopened beer in the center, popped the top with a fizz and laughed right the fuck along with everyone else, no matter how stupid the joke.

"Man, who had the blonde? Her screams are such a turnoff. I don't think I can even look at her in the dorms, but I did my pack duty."

Ouch, that hurt, and I looked up to find the other newcomer. His eyes were wide and his hair mussed. He wore a white terry robe. Standing at the other end of the counter as he was, I shouldn't have been able to hear him so clearly, but my ears had perked up when I'd realized who he was referring to.

The asshole who had hurt Syl clapped him on the back.

"Oh, you get used to it, and that one will let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, and I mean whatever." A chorus of laughter followed his comment, and I forced out a barking laugh of my own.

Once I'd introduced myself and chugged another beer, trying my best to keep names and faces straight, I excused myself to go find my room.

I followed the familiar long hallway, searching the nameplates up and down the length of it twice before I remembered I was looking for my new false name, Sebastian. Chuckling at my stupidity for thinking my watcher name would ever grace these doors, I quickly found Sebastian's door.

If Syl could shorten her name, why couldn't I? I decided right away to go by Bash.

This name—this new name from a different person—should have felt strange, but there was something empowering about taking on a fresh name for this new start in life, and I embraced it.

The room was nondescript, just a larger than needed double bed, a pristine dark brown dresser, and one nightstand bordering the bed. A window looked out onto a field below.

My old room didn't have a window. I guess they didn't give much of a shit if us watchers had a view, but the breeders? Oh, they needed the sunlight. As if going for daily runs and spending the majority of their time outside wasn't enough.

Runs. Yes, the breeders went for shifted runs through the woods behind the breeder dorms, and I'd be expected to go with them. I shifted regularly, as was required, but it'd been years since I'd pushed my lungs to a run, and I only hoped I wouldn't have an attack somewhere out in the brush with my inhaler back in the dorms.

Shit, that could really be dangerous.

But it wasn't something I would let myself think of now, not when Syl would be cleaning up from her heat and on her way back any minute. Running a hand through my now strangely short hair, I went to leave the room and head down to the bathroom when I paused with my hand on the knob.

Huh. The thing was busted up. Dented. I peered more closely at the brass globe to see someone had tried to hammer it straight, but whatever damage had been done was extensive enough that they couldn't get it quite right.

Pleased that not everything here was fucking perfect, I turned my banged up knob and headed down the hall to the bathroom. I'd have put on a show of seeking it out, like I hadn't been here scrubbing their piss off the floor, but the hallway was empty.

The whitewashed bathroom was perfect, everything in its place, and I approached one of the oval mirrors to check on my hair. Shit, I hadn't done as great a job as I'd thought. This was my first proper look at it, and while it was mostly even, I discovered a few longer bits at the back when I turned my head. Searching the shelves and drawers of the white vanities bordering the entrance, I found a pair of scissors. Getting to work, I cleaned up as much as I could before I heard a commotion loud enough to reach me down the hall.

Someone was back—it might be Syl.

I snipped, accidentally cutting a piece near my forehead too short and nicking myself in the process. With a hiss, I yanked the scissors away and pressed a hand to the minor cut. With any hope, it'd heal by the time I walked out there.

Jamming the scissors back amongst the other extra toiletries, I wiped my forehead and headed down the hall.

I'd been right. The timing was correct for just one breeder to be making her way through the front door. Syl stood in the door frame, her eyes twinkling merrily as the guys who had been objectifying her earlier crowded around to pat her on the shoulder as if thanking her for a good time. The sight made me sick.

Syl came into the room proper, going to the kitchen and grabbing a couple of water bottles from the fridge. The asshole from earlier put his hand on the exposed skin of her back. I'd love to call it a shirt, I really would, but the strip of fabric barely covering her breasts didn't fit the description. Then he pushed his way in front of her, dominating her attention.

I wanted to push my way past them—growl, and kick, and bite—until I was the only one standing before her, but I refused to meet her that way. Instead, I leaned on the wall at the mouth of the room, watching.

Once a watcher, always a watcher. But I wasn't here to watch, not anymore.