Langley’s voice pulled my gaze away. “First group out, second group in.”
The other group had their turn in the cage. Not one of them was able to hold back from shifting. Afterward, the wolves grabbed fresh uniforms from a row of plastic bins. Once everyone was decent, we sat on the grass and listened for two hours as Langley told disturbing—and graphic—tales of wolves who had lost control and killed.
By the time the buzzer signaled lunch, every person in the class was emotionally battered and physically drained.
Every person except Langley, of course. There seemed to be a spring in the counselor’s step as she led us back through the camp. I could just imagine the meetings she must have had with her high school guidance counselor as she explored career options that would let her both torture and humiliate.
I watched Kyle out of the corner of my eye as he walked beside me. He had barely said a word since stepping out of the cage, and his eyes, his expression, even his posture, were all hard and closed down.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, skimming his hand with my fingers as the side of the dining hall came into sight.
“I should be asking you that.” His brow furrowed as we passed a small stand of trees. “C’mon.” He shot Langley a quick glance before twining his fingers around mine and stepping out of line.
“You have forty minutes and then a fifteen-minute warning bell will . . .” Langley’s voice faded as I followed Kyle to the circle of trees. He dropped my hand as soon as we were under the branches.
The spot wasn’t completely private—someone walking past would be able to see us if they were close enough and paying attention—but from what I knew of the camp’s layout, most people would probably be approaching the dining hall from the other side of the building.
An ornately carved stone bench—a holdover from the days when this place had been a hospital—stood in the middle of the trees. I sat on the edge and traced an epitaph with my fingertip. In Memory of Miriam.
I expected Kyle to sit next to me, but he leaned against a tree and crossed his arms.
The six feet between us felt like six thousand.
“What’s wrong?” I realized the absurdity of the statement and shook my head. “I mean, other than the fact that we’re in a rehabilitation camp and Serena is missing and my hair looks like it was cut by a blind man using a rusty hacksaw blade.”
The scowl on Kyle’s face was so deep it was in danger of becoming permanent. “That last bit was a joke,” I said, somewhat unnecessarily.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. I had the distinct feeling he was holding himself back from saying a dozen things—none of which I would want to hear. Finally, voice tight, he said, “Do you have any idea what could have happened in that cage? Did you listen to the stories Langley told us? Forget getting scratched—one of them could have torn your throat out or crushed your skull. They don’t know you can’t heal.”
“I know.” I pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I’m okay. Nothing happened.”
“If Langley had waited any longer to set off that HFD, it would have.”
“Maybe,” I admitted, because I could neither deny nor admit how scared I had been. I didn’t want Kyle to know that a small part of me had been afraid of him, too, that it still frightened me when I saw muscles twist and tear beneath his skin.
I slipped a finger under my wrist cuff and touched the edge of Amy’s bracelet. “What happened?” I didn’t want to ask, but somehow, I couldn’t stop myself. “Why did they turn on each other?”
“Blood plus exhaustion plus a confined space? Even regs would have had a hard time not taking swipes at one another.” He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand over his jaw. His eyes darkened, and I knew he was thinking about how close he had come to losing control with the others.
“Why didn’t you shift?” I asked softly.
He swallowed and gazed out at the camp. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “You,” he admitted finally. “I was scared of what would happen if you were the only one who didn’t shift. And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
“Kyle . . .” I stood and closed the space between us, then slipped my hand into his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t return my grip and he didn’t meet my eyes. For a moment, it was like he was somewhere else, locked someplace inside his head where I couldn’t follow. “I’ve seen you shift before.”
“Five times,” he said. “I didn’t want to make it six.” He finally looked at me. With his free hand, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from my face, letting his fingers linger on my cheek for a moment. “I wish I could be human for you.”
I shook as a slow ache spread through my chest. “Kyle, you are human.”
“No. I’m really not.” His gaze became resolute. “You need to tell them what you are. You need to tell them you’re a reg.”
“You know I can’t.” I stared at him, willing him to understand. “There’s no way I can leave without knowing Serena’s okay—especially after that stuff Dex said at breakfast.”
Kyle stared right back, but didn’t speak. It was like a contest: whichever one of us blinked first lost.
“I’ll be careful. I’ll be safe. We don’t have self-control for another week, and that’s the only place wolves are allowed to shift outside the zone.” I laced my fingers with his. I didn’t need his permission to stay—it wasn’t a contest or vote—but I couldn’t afford to spend every free moment arguing. “I need to know that Serena’s okay and I need you to help me.” I squeezed his hand so tightly that my arm shook. “Please, Kyle.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right? You’re like a member of PETA with a death wish.” The words were mocking, but the look in his eyes was lost and a little sad. Voice rough, he said, “Regs aren’t supposed to care this much about werewolves.”
“All werewolves start off as regs,” I countered.
In response, he kissed me.
It started off gently—just the brush of his lips against mine—but I reached up and clasped my hands behind his neck, drawing him closer. My lips parted under his and the kiss deepened to something that was a almost fierce in its intensity.
Everything inside of me twisted and shattered.
Without breaking the kiss, Kyle switched our positions so that my back was against the tree. His hands stroked my hair and my shoulders and grazed my sides when my shirt rucked up a few inches. His fingers left trails of fire on my skin, the sensation only occasionally dampened by the touch of the metal cuff around his wrist.
No wrist cuffs, I thought, no Thornhill. Just us.
Moments later, when I was in danger of completely forgetting where we were, Kyle made a low, frustrated noise deep in his throat and gently pulled away.
He turned his head and scanned the area beyond the trees. Following his gaze, I saw a female guard headed our way. Squinting, I could just make out a pack of cigarettes in her hand as she shook out a smoke.
“There’s probably still time to get some lunch,” I said as Kyle and I stepped out from the trees.
He shot me a small, slightly rueful smile. “Sure. If you’re going to insist on throwing yourself into dangerous situations, we should probably make sure you keep your strength up.”
“Speaking of which . . .” The roof of the sanatorium was just visible over the dining hall. “Dex seemed sure that was where Serena would be.”
“It makes sense. If she were in the main part of the camp, we’d have seen her at breakfast or orientation.”
“So all we have to do is figure out a way to get into the only place we’re not allowed to go. Well, one of,” I amended, thinking of Dex’s cryptic statement about there being two. “Should be easy.” I meant the words to sound joking, but they hung heavy in the air, filled with doubt and trepidation.