Chapter 18

By the time Syl returned from the run, she wouldn't even look at me, and I didn't blame her. I could barely stand myself. My mind went through different possibilities, things I could tell her, excuses I could make for avoiding her on the run, but none of them felt real enough to work. The thought of directly lying to Syl when my whole identity here was already a lie made me sick.

So, I followed along behind her when she returned, not surprised at all when she made no move to put her clothes back on. I was close enough to touch, and I raised a hand without thinking, wanting to feel the smooth skin of her back to remind myself that she was really here, that I was really here and not back in that shitty room watching her through a monitor.

But things with Syl felt grainy and soundless, like I was watching her through a screen again. I hated the distance between us, and I was too worked up to think about much else when we returned to the common room.

"Did you have a pleasant run?" Stupid. Even though I spoke to her back, I could tell she heard me by the stutter in her step. A new tension settled into her shoulders, but she didn't reply.

She still didn't put on clothes even when we were back in the common room, going to the kitchen to pour herself a tall glass of ice water. It was all I could do to stand across the counter from her and stare.

"Syl, I—"

Her eyes shot to mine, and the words died on my lips.

"Yes? Did you have something you wanted to share?"

I couldn't. My mouth worked, but no words came out. Anything that did would be a lie, and fuck, I didn't want to do that.

"Then here's how it's going to work." She leaned forward on the counter, pressing her breasts together and eyeing me up and down, sizing me up. "You're going to stop scaring off the other guys since you don't have the balls to take me yourself, and you're going to teach me to draw at night like we'd planned."

My mouth hung open.

This unspoken thing between us was fire and passion. It was everything, but here she was talking about taking other men like it was no big deal, and I couldn't say a fucking thing about it.

Nobody here was supposed to be exclusive, and she was right. I'd rejected her out on the field. Let her believe I'd wanted to be alone when all I'd wanted was to hold her and cry into her shoulder, to let her soak up my pain until I could breathe without it squeezing my chest.

She stared me down, waiting for me to say something, to demand she not take other lovers—but I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. Not when my very presence here was a lie, and I couldn't explain what I'd done without outing myself.

The truth was, I could offer her nothing, and why I'd ever thought otherwise was beyond me.

I was her watcher, not her breeder. Meant to stay on the sidelines and observe. Keep her safe. Make sure rules were followed.

Never interacting.

Never touching.

Never thinking about the us that couldn't be.

Accepting my silence, she nodded and looked down at her water, swirling the liquid while she spoke.

"Tonight, I'm thinking we meet out here at three AM. Everyone's usually cleared out by then."

Straight to the point. Emotionless. Almost dead. Her tone was cutting. I shut my mouth and nodded.

She gave one quick, decisive bob of her head, like she'd played out this scene and it had gone exactly as expected, and there was nothing I could say otherwise. The silence stretched between us—a gaping chasm I had no way to bridge.

"You should get some sleep." I hated the short biting tone she used and the way her luscious lips pressed together.

I shouldn't get to sleep. It was six PM at best, and the last thing I felt I could do with Syl so obviously pissed was go rest, but I could hear the dismissal in her tone and the way she avoided my eyes.

That and maybe some alone time in my new box of a room was just what I needed. What I deserved.

I nodded sadly, and that's when I noticed it.

Fuck. I was standing in full view of the kitchen camera, and I turned quickly, heart pounding.

This shit with Syl had completely wiped caution from my mind. She was everything and having her so obviously upset with me had made me stupid. The camera had been right in my face for anyone on the other end to see.

"Goodnight," I called over my shoulder, not daring to turn my head.

With his eyes off me, I watched Bash walk away, noting the slump of his broad shoulders—a ridiculous posture on such a tall man. Maybe I shouldn't be meeting with him tonight to work on my drawing skills, but I badly wanted to learn, and Bash seemed willing to still teach me.

He'd been contrite, but I refused to let it touch my heart. Not when he offered no words of explanation. Other breeders filtered back into the dorms, loud and excited from a successful run. I wanted to join in that excitement, to be as carefree as they were. So, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and took out a few other cold ones to set on the counter. Kevin was the first to walk up and grab a beer from the counter, pulling a bottle opener from the drawer and snapping the top off with a satisfying crack and fizz.

"Hey, Syl, where's your shadow?"

My shadow. What a great fucking way to describe Bash.

"Gone back to his room. I guess the run made him too tired." I pouted, knowing my lips always attracted attention.

"Oh, yeah?" Kevin's eyes widened, and his cheek dimpled with a smile. I wouldn't let Bash scare anyone off anymore. Fuck him. He'd rejected me, and as much as I was drawn to him, he didn't own me.

No one did.

"Yeah," I purred, leaning forward on the counter and stretching out a hand to lie across his long-sleeved shirt. It was a tightly woven cotton. None of my favourite fabrics on men. The material was so pliant and easy to work with. I toyed with a frayed bit on the cuff, looking up at him through my lashes.

"Hey, Syl, you got a beer for me, babe?" Carter sauntered up to the counter, all swag. His face was still flushed from the run and the way it had undoubtedly ended with his cock inside of an eager she-wolf.

He grabbed a bottle, popping the top while looking over my nakedness with eager eyes. "Get lost, Kevin."

Fuck. Kevin I could deal with. He was a nice enough guy, but Carter staking a claim? Shit. The sight of his windblown hair and smug smile made my skin crawl.

"Where's the new guy?" His eyes roved over my body while he spoke, and I made no move to cover my exposed breasts.

"He's-he's gone to sleep. I must've worn him out during the run." It was stupid to lie, but Carter wasn't someone I wanted to deal with, and as the most dominant wolf here, no one could challenge him. If he decided to continue things with me, he'd demand I be only with him unless he chose to share me.

Carter nodded, then gave a dark chuckle.

"His loss. My gain." Carter's white teeth glinted in the waning light, white and predatory.

I passed the time drawing endless sketches. No way I could sleep knowing how things stood with Syl, that she was out there offering herself to whoever would take her.

Of everything I drew, Syl was the easiest and the hardest. I didn't have to think to conjure images of her face, her breasts, her silky soft hair and how it reminded me of moonlight, almost white with a hint of gold. But I was also never satisfied with the result.

Fuck, why did this have to be so complicated? I drew until my hand cramped up and my stomach reminded me I hadn't grabbed any food before retreating to my room. By the time I looked up to check the time, it was nearly three.

My heart leapt, and I stood up in a hurry, scattering papers on the ground. What an idiot. I quickly collected them and shoved them haphazardly into a drawer, not caring about the way they spilled out. Normally I would place them into my portfolio carefully, each sketch of her a treasure, but with the real thing waiting for me out in the common room, I didn't much care what happened to my drawings.

I brought some of my 3B pencils. No need to confuse her with different thickness of lead, and avoided the ones I'd worn down nearly to the nub.

With a handful of pencils clenched in one hand and a few sheets of paper in the other, I emerged into the hallway and followed the light into the common area to find Syl already seated at the table, her back to me. She wore a white shirt, and I could pick the edge of her bra out of the thin material. Had she worn it for me? Maybe she'd already been wearing it for someone else and hadn't cared what I saw her in.

The thought was a miserable one, and I grumpily approached her, coming around her front to find she had paper and pencils already set out. She looked up at me almost absentmindedly, and inwardly I groaned. There was an air of disinterest and stiffness in her posture that was difficult to process. But then she sighed and gave me a weak smile.

"You're late."

Was I? I spun around to look for a clock, and realized I was under a light and in full fucking view of that damned kitchen camera again, and the one near the foosball table. Clearing my throat, I moved to the other side of the table, putting my back to both while Syl watched me curiously.

"Sorry." No explanation again, and I caught the look in her eye that told me she'd noticed. But I couldn't exactly tell her I'd been drawing pictures of her, trying to understand her better so I could find a way through this. Find a way back to the us that was barely beginning but felt so damned good.

I rolled my shoulders, mindful of the cameras at my back. I wouldn't even be her watcher anymore if I was discovered. I couldn't afford to let down my guard.

I cleared my throat and dropped my materials on the table, taking a sheet of paper and drawing two horizontal lines. I handed it over to her, and she stared down in surprise.

"You're going to draw perfectly straight lines between those bars until you can draw an unbroken line with no mistakes. Only then will we move on to, you guessed it, longer lines. This is all we're going to do tonight. It'll be hard, annoying work, but this is the best way to get your line work improving in as short a time as possible." I didn't want to think about our limited time, but I'd only booked off family time for two months, and my absence would be missed. If she got pregnant this cycle, we'd only have a few more weeks. No matter which way I turned it over in my mind, there wasn't much time to teach her, and I was determined to make every lesson count.

"Like this?" She drew a line, but it had a curve to it as I expected.

"Perfectly straight, Syl. Like this." I took the paper, wincing when I brushed her hand, and she pulled back as if I'd bitten her. A reaction I chose to ignore, instead showing her an example line to use. The bars I'd drawn were only two inches apart and the further I made them, the harder keeping the line straight would be. Once she mastered lines, I'd move her on to circles and we'd start putting things together.

Syl cursed, and I chuckled. The words that came out of this woman's mouth were remarkably crude, and though she could have been left to complete her task independently, there was no way I would pass up a minute in Syl's company. Dreamily, I thought of the painting I was working on in my room, the one that occupied my hours when I couldn't sleep for thoughts of her.

How precious those paints were. In trade, the schoolteacher had me draw out entire books filled with foreign animals restored from ratty old pictures—great grey beasts with trunks, and oversized cats with stripes—before she would give me the meager supplies I had requested. All of my correspondence with the auntie teacher had been through a runner, the boy's cheeks always flushed and a twinkle of excitement in his eye from the exertion, but I'd gotten the colours I'd wanted, and it had been worth the cramps in my hand.

Of course, I'd never known I would use them for something as magnificent as what I'd carefully slid under my bed.

But with no chance of working on it tonight, I took up a sheet of paper and began sketching. It felt inappropriate to sketch Syl while she sat beside me and with everything going on between us. Instead, I focused on some of the nature I'd seen while outdoors.

Nothing that would bring Syl's mind back to the run and how I'd rejected her, but on simple things. A broken cloud lazily crossing the sky. Blades of grass stretching to bask in the sun's light. The wind giving them a dancer's sway.

"That's beautiful."

I glanced up to find Syl studying my page. On it was a sea of grass stretching across a field with the sun opposite, every blade tilting towards it even as the wind pushed them away.

"Thank you."

With a sigh of frustration, she put her pencil down. "And how do I get from these shitty lines to that?" she huffed, gesturing at my paper, and I laughed.

"Years of practice, Syl. A lot of years. The lines are the best place for you to start, trust me."

With an annoyed glance my way, she picked up the pencil and began the next row. "Fucking, shit-balled, son of a bitch, ass-twat-fucker-sandwich," she muttered under her breath, the uncouth words so at odds with the casual elegance she always seemed to exude. Her breath disturbed the hair falling softly to the sides of her face, framing her beautifully, and I allowed myself a drawing of one errant wave.

No, we weren't fucking.

No, we weren't together.

But this felt somehow worth every bit of pain I'd suffered to get here. Every torn muscle. Every strain I'd pushed into instead of backing off from. Hanging out with Syl, teaching me so many new swear words, as I quietly sketched out the beauty of the world.

This felt right.

Which is why my heart broke when Syl started yawning, looking up at me with tired, droopy eyes.

"I think I'm going to have to head to bed, sorry."

Was I so obviously disappointed? Sighing, I took in her slumped shoulders and the weak way she held her pencil. She'd tried to stay awake, for me, and the thought warmed my heart. Maybe she'd given up on us for the moment, but I'd find a way to convince her to give us another try.

"Of course. Goodnight, Syl." I dropped a kiss on the top of her ash-blonde head, gathering up my papers in a quick scoop and giving her one last parting smile before heading to my room.

With a sigh, I opened the door, miserable at not bringing Syl back with me, at having to spend another night alone in a boxy room, when I noticed it.

Right in front of my main floor window was a folded up piece of paper, the edges curling. Brow furrowed, I retrieved it.

They'd left it by the window, not the door, and a chill crept up my spine at the realization of what this meant. If any of my fellow breeders wanted to leave me a note, they could've slipped it under my door. It wouldn't make sense for them to go outside, find my window and slip it in there, which meant whoever sent it was no breeder.

My hand shook as I unfolded the note.

What the fuck are you doing?

Meet me at the tree line, tomorrow, one am.

They'd left off their name, but whoever had written this note knew who I was, which meant they had the power to end everything. No more getting to know Syl. No more teaching her how to draw. No more hoping I could continue trying to understand the connection between us. It'd all end, and what was worse, Syl would know.

She'd know I was a defect, unworthy of the title of breeder. Just some asshole who had conned his way in to fuck and party. Only that had never been my goal, and if I was taken away, I'd never have the chance to tell Syl why I'd really come here. How a grainy, crying version of her had ensnared my heart and given me a purpose I'd thought long gone.

Guess I'd find out tomorrow. Whether the note writer was aware of my nightly appointment with Syl at three, I didn't know, but a one AM meeting would, thankfully, allow me to do both.

If I wasn't hauled out and thrown in front of a red-faced Administrator Sampson.

Fuck.

Fear left me numb, and I barely managed a few hours of sleep before joining the others for lunch and having to watch Syl get fucked in the ass against the foosball table by that slimy asshole Carter. She was drunk already, her head bobbing, and her eyes glazed as she grabbed the foosball handles, causing the little plastic men to clatter as she took him soundlessly.

She didn't seem happy about it, at least, and she shot me a death glare if I came anywhere near her, but it still hurt. I got the impression Carter was fucking with me by taking her in the common room where everyone could see.

We'd know soon if she was pregnant, and whether I'd have another turn with her in the breeding room, but not even the thought of sinking into Syl's wet heat could properly distract me from my meeting with whoever had sent me that note. I watched Syl from the corner, almost unaffected by what I was seeing.

The run passed with a flicker of pain, unable to penetrate the gloom as Syl took off for the woods with Carter's wolf right behind, and I moved to the sidelines, stepping aside so she could be with a breeder, as she should.

But if I was outed, I wouldn't even have my nights with Syl anymore. Wouldn't see her in the flesh ever again, and the worry kept my stomach in knots the rest of the afternoon until a drunken Syl wandered up and broke briefly through the haze.

"Hey, Bash. What's up? What are you working on there?"

I looked from my sketch pad to her, surprised she was speaking to me outside of our drawing sessions. I'd been so lost that I hadn't even heard her come up.

Knowing where Syl was at all times was my obsession. I frowned at the sketch I'd been doing of her face, this time focusing on the gap beside her incisor and how I wanted to dip my tongue into it. I pulled the paper to my chest along with its cardboard backing.

"Just—Nothing really."

Her eyes twinkled playfully, and I knew just how drunk she had to be to look at me like that.

"Nothing? Really? Come on, Bash. Let me see."

She made a grab for the paper, but I quickly pulled it away and stood up from where I leaned against the wall to hold it out of her reach. But I'd underestimated her, and she jumped, snatching it at the same time the cardboard fell.

I watched as her eyes widened and she held the paper up, looking at a mirror image of herself.

Beauty, meet beauty.

I sighed, knowing this couldn't lead anywhere good, but she looked up at me in surprise, a question in the crease of her brow.

"I can never get the eyes right." It was true. I'd been trying ever since I'd seen her on the monitor, and I knew it was part of the reason I'd made so many sketches focusing on her face. To get the expression just perfect, I felt I needed to understand Syl better, to know her soul so I could represent it correctly.

Or maybe I was just way too stressed and tired.

"Cool. Well, keep trying, I guess." She gave me a watery smile, and I blinked in surprise.

Keep trying, I guess. It sounded like more than the drawing, like I should keep trying with her. Keep pushing, keep trying to make the dream of us a reality. I grinned back at her, taking the offered paper.

"Count on it."

Syl returned to the foosball table, thankfully to actually play foosball this time, and I felt a renewed sense of certainty. She was pissed at me and playing the role of a breeder—fucking anything that moved like she was supposed to, but she'd also said to keep trying, and that gave me hope.

The hope clung to me like a second skin as the afternoon wore on until Carter took Syl back to his room, and I retreated back to mine. I tried to sleep, but it was fitful, and I woke up in a sweat bad enough that I needed to change my shirt.

Time to meet my mystery letter writer.

I slipped out of my window at quarter to one, not wanting to be seen leaving on the dorm cameras, and headed into the pines. The cool night air was the kind of damp before a storm, and the tension in my body mirrored the weather.

This meeting could break me and everything I was trying to do.

Which was what? I still didn't know. I'd thought meeting Syl was the answer. I'd meet her and know why I'd gone through the trouble of remaking myself and becoming Bash, but I hadn't. Not then, and not now. I felt no closer to understanding my fascination with her.

But one thing I did know was that I couldn't leave. I felt on the verge of knowing Syl and having her know me, of some greatly important discovery. The letter writer had the power to take it all away, to send me back to the role of watcher or worse.

What would be the punishment if I was caught? I'd long been deemed too weak for the fields, but if word got out of what I'd done, how I'd infiltrated the breeding program—well, it would set a precedent for the other watchers. Prove their system wasn't infallible—that it could be done.

"Hey," a voice hissed in the dark, and I followed it, nearly fainting in relief when I caught a flash of red hair and found Cam standing next to a large rock.

"Fuck, man." I gasped in relief, stepping closer.

Cam studied me for an anxious heartbeat, his eyes searching my face before pulling me into a tight hug. The shorter man only came up to my chest, and I awkwardly patted him on the back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He pulled away, glaring up at me. "Breaking into a dorm, posing as a breeder. Are you crazy?"

All I could do was wince at his sharp tone and nod apologetically. I'd clearly worried Cam, and I felt truly bad.

"So, this is why you took family leave?"

I nodded, eyes focusing on the rough bark of an unruly pine behind Cam's head.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw your face on my monitor."

My eyes shot to his. "Did you take over for Jerry as the primary?"

"Yes," he answered slowly, not giving anything away.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "That's good. You're a great choice, and an excellent watcher."

Cam balked at me, his mouth hanging open. "Yeah, except I'm a terrible fucking watcher, thanks to you."

He hadn't reported me, not yet. The tension holding me rigid eased, and I slumped forward, not realizing I'd been waiting for him to confirm he hadn't reported me before I could relax.

"Yeah."

He glared at me, and I winced. "Fucking yeah. So, you've had your fun, and it's time to come back. I can doctor the reports, tell them Sebastian the breeder was needed by his squad and had to drop o—"

"No." Icy dread gripped me, and I grabbed Cam's shoulder. "You can't. I can't leave."

Cam shook his head, ginger curls dancing across his eyes.

"Why? Is it the sex, the booze? I thought you were better than that."

It was safer to let him believe I was only here for a good time. But I couldn't stand the look of disgust in Cam's eyes.

"It's nothing like that. Cam, it's about Sylvia." I used her full name, hoping he might've seen her file.

His blank stare met mine. "A woman?"

"Yes, I—well, I was her watcher, you see. For her breeding party, and, well…" My mouth opened and closed ineffectively as I tried to think how to explain that I'd been drawn to her from the moment she'd appeared on my monitor. How her tears had gripped my heart, and her body had pulled me into her heat like a helpless, unthinking pawn.

"Do you love her?" Steely eyes met mine, demanding an answer.

Fuck.Did I love Syl? There was a fine line between obsession and love. I'd been obsessed before with a flower or an animal, sketching it out over and over again, trying to recreate its perfection, but Syl? She was more. She was everything. Her laugh, her smile, the secret drawer full of dreams she tried to keep hidden from everyone else. The way she swore like it was a second fucking language. Her gossamer-soft hair.

"Yes." The word came out strong, firm, and I saw something fall in Cam's eyes just before he turned his face away.

"And how long do you intend to keep this up?"

"Until she knows it." There, that was my next step, somehow finding a way back to being with Syl, and confessing the feelings swirling in my gut. In my heart. In my bones. I didn't think it would go anywhere, and maybe it would mean nothing to her, but I couldn't leave the dorm and resume my role as a watcher without her at least knowing.

"Right." With a sniff, Cam reached down for a black canvas bag hidden in the shadow of the rock. He pulled something out and pushed hard into my chest.

Surprised, I took it from him. It was hard, and when I unfolded it, I understood.

A baseball cap.

"At least cover your fucking face. I'm not your watcher all the time." He hugged me again, a long lingering hug. Then, just as I was about to say something, he pulled away and left me to lean against the tree for support as I tried to process the relief spreading through my limbs.

Just telling someone about Syl was freeing like a weight had been lifted from my chest. I could breathe again. I had someone on my side, someone who cared.

Now if I could just get through to Syl.