Chapter 13

I woke with a shiver, opening my eyes to find the thick coverlet I'd been wrapped in pulled to the side. Grumbling, I blinked blearily around the room and found Bash sitting in what appeared to be a chair from the dining room. One leg folded across his lap, he had some raggedy bit of cardboard balanced on his legs and a piece of something black in his hand that he was urgently moving across it.

His eyes glanced up at me occasionally. Wait. Not me. At my leg. I looked down at the way he'd exposed just my leg, tucking the blanket around me to prevent any air from going under the covers.

What was he doing?

His lanky form stayed hunched over the cardboard, not even noticing I'd woken up. I took the opportunity to drink in his body, knowing that once his eyes captured mine, the intensity would pull me in, and I'd be drawn helplessly towards him. That attraction left little time for proper appreciation.

Mmmm. There was something beautiful about the way he worked on whatever he was doing. I was clearly the subject of his attention, his blue eyes darting up to look at my leg and then back down to his work.

Lanky but muscular. A deadly build. He looked like he could have taken on every wolf in the shower with ease. Like he'd challenge them in a fight and leave without a mark.

They must love him in the guard, and he must be a guard. Most every man here was, and I couldn't see him being one of the intelligence personnel they sometimes deemed worthy of breeding. No, those blue eyes had watched me with intelligence, but I was sure he was a guard. And the need to know was starting to burn.

I wanted to ask him, to blurt out a million questions at once until every single detail of this man was known, stored, cherished. But the desire was torn with fascination at the way he studied me. His posture and every bit of his attention focused on whatever was on the torn up piece of cardboard he was using as some kind of derelict lap desk.

I waited until I couldn't stand it anymore. Until the words burned inside me, leaving me tense under the cover's softness. Bash's coverlet was thicker than mine, and I was starting to think I had gotten a shit deal. I moved the leg he was fascinated by, watching confusion freeze him for a moment, before he looked up and found me awake and watching him.

Scrubbing a hand across his head, he cleared his throat and averted his gaze guiltily.

"Oh, you're up. Sorry, I-I—" He struggled for the words, this great big man red-faced like I'd caught him stealing from the alpha's chambers.

"What are you doing there?" I asked, sitting up in the same breath to perch on the edge of the bed.

Mouth agape, he watched me. Sometime since he'd carried me back here, he'd thrown on a black shirt and grey joggers, the shirt ill-fitting across his broad chest. While I'd remained naked, and I made no effort to cover myself now.

The Party Girl would never cover up, and for once, Syl agreed. Watching Bash studying my body so intently, almost worshipfully, filled me with confidence.

No one had ever looked at me the way he did. Like he was seeing more than my pert breasts and elegant neck. I was used to the lust I saw swirling in his eyes, but there was so much more wrapped up in the way he studied me. His eyes fixed on my face, but darted across my body at every opportunity.

"What are you doing?" I asked again, bouncing up on the mattress to catch a glimpse of what was hidden behind the cardboard, but Bash pulled it towards him protectively, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak.

Was this really the same man who had busted his way into the shower and taken me in front of a literal wolf pack?

But I knew it was, and his adorable shyness was just another facet of the man I couldn't wait to know better.

"It's nothing, just-just." He was trying to think up a lie, his eyes careening around the room like he'd find the answer somewhere in the thin set of drapes covering his window or the thick door sealing us away from the world. No fucking way.

"I want to see what you're doing. You don't ever cover up from me, and you're wearing way too many fucking clothes," I growled, standing and closing the distance between us.

Bash sat up, pressing his back into the chair and sucking in a breath.

How fucking adorable. The way he was acting reminded me of how he'd entered my breeding party, surprised to find my clit and eager to learn how touching it made me react. He was so innocent, so unsure of himself, except when he was lost in the act. Almost like—

"I was your first," I stated. When Bash's brows knitted together in confusion, I sighed. "The first woman you ever had."

Realization brought a new light to his eyes, and I studied the colour, wondering how they could be such a dark blue with the hues still perfectly visible. A myriad of shades I could spend all day studying.

With a soft chuckle, I pushed his legs apart with a foot and straddled his knee.

"It's okay. I can't wait to teach you everything," I purred, watching in satisfaction as his lip curled up. "Now, what have you got there?" I reached out a hand to rest on a jagged corner of the ripped up cardboard, giving it a gentle tug. He let me pull it loose, sighing and wrapping an arm around me as he turned it fully my way.

A paper lay in the middle of the cardboard and on it were nearly a dozen sketches of my leg, curved and at different angles. The sketches were wonderful, and I reached out to snatch it from his hand, holding the paper closer to my face as if that would help me see them better. He winced.

"You don't like them. I'm sorry to move the blanket. I just couldn't remember a few details and wanted to—"

"Stop," I cut him off, my eyes roving over a full figure of myself with my leg kicked up and one eye peeking over a shoulder. "Do you have more of these?" My breath caught, and I pried my eyes away from the paper, lowering it to meet Bash's wide-eyed stare.

"Yes." His reply was a quiet admittance that made me wonder just how many sketches of me he had made. We'd only known each other for such a short time and yet, him doing this spoke of the connection between us. I couldn't help the grin spreading across my face.

Rubbing myself against his leg, I moaned at the friction against his joggers. "I want to see everything. But first…"

Bash smiled back at me, setting the cardboard on the ground beside him. "Whatever you need."

This man was going to kill me.

Bash's joggers bunched up when I rubbed myself against his hard thigh. I tilted my hips, using the bump in the fabric to hit my nub. My hands braced on his leg. I didn't even look at him as I rode his leg, letting my hair fall back as I arched my back and feeling his eyes on me as I ground myself against him.

He hissed in a breath, and his large hands settled on my thighs, rubbing the sensitive skin in encouraging circles. I cracked an eye and saw the way he was fixated on me—his nostrils flaring, his breath heavy.

Something in him snapped. The dark blue of his eyes sharpened to steely resolve as he gripped my hips and lifted me easily onto his lap proper. My legs wrapped around him, and thank fuck these chairs didn't have arm rests, because I wanted him inside of me, and the open sides meant I could wrap my legs around him more easily.

The length of him pressed in front of me, and I ran my hands up it, teasing him through the thick fabric. But not for long. With a groan, he yanked the pants down, a hand on my back to keep from displacing me. I plucked at the bottom edge of his soft terry shirt, pulling it up. He lifted his arms and discarded the shirt in a crumple beside the chair.

Staring at the wide expanse of his chest, I hissed in a breath, savouring the ability to drink him in. To have him—The Stag—hot and ready beneath me, at my mercy.

I knew what he could do, knew I was toying with fire when I ran a hand up the definition of his abs to lay my palm flat across his chest. He panted beneath me like an animal, his gaze drinking me in, but I didn't meet it. I wanted to take him in without the intensity of his stare. If I met his eyes, he would pull me in until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, unless it was in sync with him.

"Syl." My name on his lips came out in a guttural groan that vibrated through his chest and into my palm. I shivered at the raw power of it, wanting a taste. I leaned forward, tilting my head up, knowing I was poking the beast, and only wanting to do it harder.

He brushed a thumb across my cheek, studying me. His eyes roved over my face just as hungrily as they roved over my body. Oh. I could lose myself here, with this man, in this place. Where our surroundings didn't matter, our goals, any of it. He leaned forward to kiss me, the gesture heartbreakingly tender, and his tongue traced gently along the seam of my mouth, begging for admittance.

Fuck.

I opened for him. The heat between us built higher at the connection. We hadn't kissed in the shower or the breeding room, and I knew now what I'd been missing. My arms came around to clutch his neck as I held on for dear life. Every part of me consumed by his taste, his presence.

Without breaking contact, his hands glided across my hips to cup my ass, lifting me and positioning his tip at my entrance. I gasped into his mouth, but he only rubbed a soothing circle on my lower back as I took inch after inch of him. My arousal helped the largeness of him to ease into place until we were joined. He nipped and sucked at my bottom lip as I adjusted to the fullness. The sensation was almost too much, and I cried out.

"Bash?" I could barely recognize my voice. The Party Girl was gone. This was all Syl. I couldn't have maintained control if I'd tried, and fuck, I didn't want to try.

I wanted this man. Truly. Everyone I'd slept with here had been a means to an end, but not now. I wasn't thinking about pregnancy, the fields, my sister—none of it. Every fiber of my being was fixated on the man seated inside me. When he began to roll his hips, I clung to him, curling up to his chest, wanting his neck but unable to reach.

Whatever question I'd thought to ask when I'd spoken his name, he answered with his body. Taking hold of my ass, he tilted it up and down, sliding in and out of me and creating a friction that sent me spiraling.

"Bash. Bash. Bash." His name was the only word I had, and I scrabbled helplessly against his chest, heedless of the damage my nails caused him. He drew a sharp breath of lust mixed with pain and worked me harder until his name became a cry on my lips.

He felt amazing, but I wanted more. Wanted him deeper. Wanted him to lose control like he'd done in the shower. Sitting back, I gripped his cock at the base, and used his thighs to ride him, setting the fast rhythm I'd been craving. His hands went slack on my hips. I watched as his head tilted back, revealing a deliciously thick Adam's apple and corded neck as he fought the tension coiling within his body.

He lost it, just like I'd hoped, and stood in a rush with his hands cupping my ass, stepping out of his joggers, and taking the two steps to the bed. He laid me down almost reverently, breaking the contact between us, and all I could do was stare up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

His lips fell urgently to mine, our tongues ending in a viscous tangle until I was drunk on him. Then his mouth moved to nip along my jaw, following a path down my neck and between my breasts but not touching them. Fuck, they cried out to be touched, and I groaned as he sank lower without giving them his attention.

Unphased, he trailed his tongue along my flat abdomen, and the wet heat of it left me wriggling beneath him, demanding more. I knew he would give it, but the tension was wound so tightly within me I didn't know if I could stand the wait. His mouth reached my pussy, a tongue darting out to flick across my nub, and I saw stars.

This powerful man lowered himself to taste me. His tongue glided through my slick, and he shivered in delight. My legs clenched around his head, locking him in place as I rose higher. Just as I was arching off the bed, arms splayed out, he stopped. Standing, he looked down at me with that permanently stunned expression he wore so effortlessly in my presence, like he had to remind himself where he was.

Fuck it.

I stood up on the bed, taking his face in my hands, and kissing him the same tender way he'd kissed me, wanting to knock that expression of surprise off his face and replace it with something deeper. I had no words for why I felt it was important, or why this fucking perfect male specimen would be anything other than confident, but I kissed him. Letting the fire of it consume us both until his arms came up to hold me back, and he lifted me into his chest, my legs wrapping around him.

He laid me back down before him and came up on his knees. His gaze was steady. Lust swirled beneath the surface, but also an uncertainty. As if he needed to pause at every step to make sure he was doing it right.

"Yes." What was I saying yes to? Him?

I was pretty sure he knew my answer was yes. The Party Girl never said no. She said yes to everyone here whenever they'd asked or wanted or showed the slightest bit of interest, but for him—it wasn't just a yes. A yes where he was concerned was a pleasure, and I wasn't above begging.

He hitched my leg over his shoulder and kept his eyes on my face as he sank in with a groan. His steely grip on my thigh with one hand and my hip with the other, he worked himself in. I gasped as my body struggled to adapt—the pain of the stretch turning into something deeper and more satisfying.

"Shh."

I only realized I was making frantic animal sounds when he shushed me, and I snapped my mouth shut. He sank the last inch, his thumb circling my nub. He started out slow, barely moving within me, but it was too much. I cried out. So close to tumbling over the edge that I put a hand over his to stop the assault of sensation.

But he was relentless, and my reaction made him feral. His hand tightened into a bruising grip around my thigh, and he pulled out more to slam into me. Flesh smashing against flesh was all that I could hear and feel.

My eyes rolled back, and I was helpless. My hand went limp against his. His thumb stopped its movements, and I cried out, my hand tightening on his once more in a silent plea to resume, but he didn't. Instead, he blocked me from touching myself as he hammered into me, his face a mask of concentration.

All of it was too much. I needed release. Now.

I tried to sit up, to take control, but he pushed me back down. All I could do was arch my back and make pathetic noises of frustration as the tension grew within me. Tears leaked from my eyes, and I barely noticed when he scooped me back up into his arms and I lay against his chest without losing contact.

Arms wrapped tightly around my back, he lifted me up and down against his length. The weight of my body drove him deeper, and only then did his hand snake around to the space between us to find my nub, mercilessly circling it with the pad of his thumb.

His grunts filled my ears, my head, vibrated through my very bones as I came. I felt a familiar gush of fluid as the waves of pleasure consumed me completely. Screaming through the release, helplessly along for the ride, I clawed at his chest, not caring for the damage I was leaving behind.

He rode out his own release, his heart pounding against mine as he emptied himself deep inside of me with a final few spasms.

This, now fucking this, could get me pregnant, and I sighed, sagging into his chest. His arms must be tired from holding me up, but I knew he wouldn't drop me. There was a strange trust between us I couldn't understand.

But I was quickly finding reason was not something that had a place where Bash was concerned. We came back down, still connected, and I waited for him to move me off of him and start cleaning up. To busy himself with his clothes and turn to me like a friendly stranger.

Thanks for the sex. Catch you later, Syl.

Only, he held me. Both hands wrapped around my back, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against skin still sensitive from release.

"Can I draw you?" His voice was quiet and innocent. Pulling back to see his face, I found it completely earnest—a sheepishness creeping into the crinkle of his eyes.

"Draw me?" My incredulous tone forced his eyes away from mine, and he looked over my left shoulder.

"Well, yeah, while it's still fresh, you know?"

Draw me. After all that, he wanted to draw me? The idea was ludicrous. After an experience like that, with our bodies still connected, the thing he most wanted to do wasn't to clean up and get dressed. Not to lay back down together and savour the moment either, but to draw me.

Brow crinkling, I twisted my head to meet his eyes, but when I saw the silent plea, I couldn't help the next word out of my mouth.

"Yes."

There was something about Bash that made me want to say yes to him, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. His passion was contagious. He set me down on my feet and gestured to the bed with one hand.

I perched on the edge, looking up at him to see a frown on his face.

"No, like, lay down, and spread your legs."

What the fuck?

Bash was kinky.

I decided I liked that about him.

I did as he said, laying flat on my back and spreading my legs. With an irresistible grin, he went to grab the cardboard, giving me a perfect view of his ass. I might be beyond sated, but I could still appreciate the taut muscles as he reached for his materials. Placing them on the chair, he went to retrieve his pants when I cleared my throat.

"Um, excuse me, but if I don't get to wear clothes, neither should you."

With a chuckle, he looked back at me, the grey joggers in hand. "Because I'm about to sit on this hard chair and my balls will stick to them. I figure you have a vested interest in that part of me. Unless I'm wrong."

That fucking lopsided grin had me laughing along with him.

"Why didn't you say anything before when we were in the chair together?"

He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "I was otherwise occupied."

Yes, yes, he was.

I laughed, the sound coming from me in a delightful rising crescendo.

This fucking man.

"Okay, but no pants. Put on some underwear or something."

With an eye roll, he moved to his dresser, retrieving a pair of boxer shorts and stepping into them. I watched, appreciating the hard-won definition in his legs and the way his stomach stayed taut even when he bent. My body reacted to the sight of him, and I swear I could go again. Could come just watching him put on a pair of boxers. This was ridiculous. Good sex was one thing, and I'd had an awful lot of sex since joining Pack Breeders 103C, but none of it had been this all-consuming haze I'd been helpless against.

Controlled.

Purposeful.

Enjoyable, sure, but never this.

Bash settled back in his chair, bringing one leg up to hook his ankle over the other, and made a table out of the cardboard garbage he used for his art. What a shit piece of cardboard he'd found. I was sure I could find him something better, and I would. It couldn't be comfortable to draw on such a flimsy piece of ripped up cardboard. He needed a proper desk.

"Use two fingers to spread yourself." His breath hitched as he waited for me to obey.

With a grunt of approval, I did as he asked, wondering if he could see his seed spilling out of me.

I watched with rapt attention as he drew me, realizing how beautiful he looked. A large man hunched over a slip of paper, his hand gliding across the sheet and his eyes darting up. It should've looked ridiculous. He should have looked ridiculous, only he didn't.

He was stunning, and I was drawn into the passion painting his features. I wanted to know what he was drawing, to get a glimpse into his world. But the spell was broken with a series of loud bangs on Bash's door.

Right. There was a whole other world out there beyond Bash and me. I'd been lost to him for however many hours since he confronted me in the shower, but now…

This place. Our purpose. Everyone else in the dorm. It was all still there.

Incredible perception-altering sex couldn't change that.

Not even Bash could.

With a wince, Bash set his supplies carefully back down on the floor and gave me an apologetic smile. Curious, I moved to the end of the bed and leaned forward, so I could see and hear whatever had interrupted us.

"Hey, man, it's time for the daily run." Bash had his hand on the door, his knuckles tense like he was ready to slam it. His broad shoulders eclipsed whoever was speaking, but I didn't think I recognized the voice anyhow.

Maybe it was one of the new guys? Strange they would send someone who just arrived, but then, I listened closely and thought there was something familiar about his voice, something tickling at the back of my mind. Like a voice I used to know but hadn't heard in long enough for it to fade into memory.

Bash argued with the familiar stranger.

"Why can't we stay back?"

"Nope, not allowed. We used to allow it, but no more. New rules ever since—Well, let's just say now everybody comes out for the run."

"Listen, man."

"Jace."

Fuck. Jace. That cocky bastard was back? I hadn't seen him since my first cycle, but there'd been a time when he'd been obsessed with my body, taking me anywhere and everywhere. I'd thought myself so special to have received his attention. Just before he found someone new and did the same to them. I later found out he called us his "puppies".

Fuck, I hated him. If there was one man here I hated more than Carter, it would be that asshole, but at least now it made sense why he was going around banging on doors.

Jace, supreme asshole commander though he may be, was an alpha in his squad, which gave him a certain position within Pack Breeders 103C. A position he'd obviously slid back into with little complaint from Carter or the other top wolves.

When had he arrived? My stomach twisted at the thought of him having been a participant in my breeding party.

"Jace," Bash corrected. "Syl and I are—"

"Wait, Syl?" Jace peered under Bash's arm and grinned, his green eyes lighting up. Pathetic. He gave a friendly wave that stirred nothing in me except a desire to vomit what little food I'd eaten in the past however many hours.

"Hi," I said dryly, wondering why he thought we'd still be friends after he'd used me and left me friendless, making it so I'd had to quickly ingratiate myself with another group or be forgotten.

Jace cleared his throat as if to shake off my chilly reception, and turned his attention back to Bash, falling out of sight.

"So anyway, nobody stays back. Simple as that."

Bash's body stiffened, and I frowned at his tense posture.

"Syl and I are having a bit of fun here, and we're very busy. Can't you make an exception?"

His words ripped at something barely formed inside of me.

A bit of fun. My mouth went dry, and I missed whatever else he had to say. Of course. Fuck, I was dumb. I was turning into Bash's puppy, just like I'd once been Jace's. Just a little idiot following him around, expecting there was anything substantial behind the sex. Maybe because I was the one to take his virginity, he was obsessed with me, with drawing my body, but he clearly knew his purpose.

He was here for the pack, just like everybody else.

Tears burning my eyes, I scanned the room for my clothes, quickly remembering I'd left them on the shower floor.

Fuck, I was so stupid, getting caught up with someone. This wasn't me, wasn't why I was here, and it certainly wasn't why Bash was here.

Bash. He closed the door and turned to stare at me, his jaw tight, eyes searching. His face was pained. He looked worried.

"You okay?"

Fuck him. I stood up, not bothering to look for something to wear anymore. I'd left my clothes like the damned fool I was, and I wouldn't cover myself with something of his. So, where did that leave me?

Naked and alone, as usual.

"Great. Listen, Bash. This was great. Really. But I've got to go get prepared for the run." I moved to sidle past him, unphased by his wide eyes. But it was still hard to pass close to the heat of his body. His warmth called to me, and all I wanted was to press into it. With a shiver, I paused when his hand reached out to grasp my forearm.

"Wait, Syl, I'll go with you. Just give me a minute—"

"No, thanks." I didn't meet his eyes—couldn't. Instead, I pushed the rest of the way through, stepping out into the hallway with him still staining my thighs.

"Hey, Syl, looking good." Gale's lust-filled smile twisted my insides, as did the way his eyes roved over my body freely. Like he had the right. Like he owned me.

But he did. They all did. I was here to be sucked and fucked until I could ensure the next generation came about. That was all I was good for.

And fuck Bash for making me think there could be anything more. I didn't have time to be anyone's puppy. Sex with Bash had been beyond expectation, and I would certainly do it again, but The Party Girl was back.

It was her who smiled back at Gale, a skip in her step as she skirted past him on the way to her room.