Bree has recovered from surgery, but we’re still scheduling these ahead as we work on a secret project! Mwahahahaha! This serial was originally posted (mostly!) on Patreon, and has been edited and finished to be posted live on our blog over the next few weeks. But for those who just want it NOW, or who hate reading on a blog and would like an epub… Well here is the epub!
Return to the world after the Beyond Series and meet the residents of Sector Three…
When Ashwin asks Six & Bren to take in an emotionally fractured Makhai soldier, there are a thousand things that could go wrong. But they are hard at work building their school and rebuilding their sector, and Sebastian is a genius who can fix anything. Anything. In return for his help, all they have to do is give him a safe place to find out if his emotional wounds can be healed.
Just one traumatized supersoldier in the middle of a school filled with former feral street kids, war refugees from exclusive brothels, and a few dozen kids who barely know what a school is.
What could go wrong?
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DISCLAIMERS: this is a serial meant for existing readers of the series. it contains full series spoilers for the Beyond Series and may not make sense if you haven’t read it.
It is also NOT erotic. This is the first part of a very very very slow burn romance between a broken Makhai soldier and an artist who escaped Sector Two after the bombings. There may also be a few other romances a brewing… consider this more like a TV show with multiple members of the cast up to hijinks, even if there are two main characters.
—
Callie had never been this nervous.
She paced from one side of her studio to the other, rubbing at the goosebumps that rose on her bare arms. She had everything in place–easels, pads, pencils. Chairs and drapes. Even a small cooler she’d begged off of Sally in the kitchen, full of drinks and sandwiches and the last of the hand pies made from their tiny berry harvest.
This was her favorite part of the process, chasing the spark of inspiration until it caught fire and bloomed in her imagination. It was fascinating, and it was fun.
So why was she freaking out?
A soft knock on the edge of the door startled her. She had to laugh at herself for being so jumpy, though the laugh died in her throat when she turned.
Sebastian was standing in the open doorway, backlit by the sun, waiting to be invited in.
Her nerves drowned under a wave of anticipation so sharp it sucked the breath right out of her lungs. “Come in. Take a look around.”
He moved slowly across the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room like he was mentally clearing it of dangers. He lingered for a moment on the wall of proudly displayed finger paintings, and again on a row of still lifes painted by some of the more talented advanced students.
Finally, his gaze settled on her. “Where do you need me?”
“Well…” She indicated the sagging couch along one wall. “You can have a seat for now. We have some things to discuss. Would you like a drink?”
“I’m fine.” He moved to the couch and sat on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees, his entire body still coiled as if he might lunge at any second. But he didn’t move, his very stillness unnatural as he studied her.
And waited.
She sat as well, mirroring his posture. “First of all, thank you for agreeing to do this. It often surprises people, how exhausting it is just to sit. If you get tired, please do tell me. I don’t want you suffering on my account.”
His lips twitched. Just a little. “I am sure I’ll be okay.”
She got the sense that any other man would have openly laughed. But instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt her lips curving in an answering almost-smile. “Fair enough. First real point of business: your incognito status. I know I said I wouldn’t draw your face–and I won’t, if you don’t want me to. But I’d like to, even if it means destroying the sketches at the end of each session.”
Another pause. His gaze drifted to the childish finger paintings again. “May I ask a question?”
Callie had expected a silent nod of acknowledgment, or perhaps a single syllable of denial. Eager to hear his question–a freely offered one, at that–she leaned forward. “Of course.”
He gestured to the children’s work. “Art lessons seem out of character for what I’ve seen of Six. Is this something you talked her into doing?”
“It took a little persuasion,” Callie admitted. “But by Ace–Alexander Santana–not by me. Though all he did was tell her the truth. People need different things, and some of the kids need…this.” She nodded toward the displayed art. “Six understands that.”
“What do they get out of it?” he asked, his tone one of genuine curiosity rather than challenge.
“That depends on the kid. For most, it’s fun. Others frankly don’t like it at all. But for just a few, it’s like breathing.” She met Sebastian’s gaze. “Art will save their lives.”
“It’s that important?”
“It can be.”
After a moment’s thought, he inclined his head. “You can sketch my face. But you shouldn’t display it. For your own safety.”
“I don’t plan to display any of this. You have my word.”
“Then it’s fine.”
“Thank you.” She pushed ahead. “How do you feel about nudity?”
That earned her a raised brow. “I can take my shirt off, if that’s helpful. More seems…inadvisable.”
Callie couldn’t resist. “In what way?” she asked innocently.
He just stared at her. “I am not Ashwin, you know. I can tell when I’m being teased.”
She almost managed not to smile, but she couldn’t stop her cheeks from heating. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, nothing more.” She sobered. “Sometimes, when it comes to positioning, it helps if I can physically move you instead of giving instructions. Will that be all right?”
This time the pause was longer. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’m in an unfamiliar place, I have instinctive responses and…” His jaw tightened, and he swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Maybe not this first time? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her chest ached. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” she repeated. “Nothing more.” Then she rose. “Shall we begin? The light is beautiful right now.”
Sebastian rose easily, his hands already reaching for the hem of his dark T-shirt. “Where should I sit?”
Callie hurried to pull a stool into a wash of light streaming through a window. “I think this would be a good spot to…” The words died as she turned and caught sight of his bare chest.
He had scars. Not the ridged and puckered kind the people of Sector Three usually bore, remnants of knife fights in dark alleys and stray gunshot wounds. His were small, almost regimented. Surgical in their precision and in their healing, except there was no rhyme or reason to their placement–
Almost no rhyme or reason. They were all located in highly innervated spots. Places that would hurt.
She knew she was staring. But, to her absolute horror, she couldn’t stop. “What did they do to you?”
“They wanted me to stop feeling,” he said without emotion. As if it mattered little. “So they hurt me.”
That never works. Callie blinked away the tears that welled, burning her eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sorry. I…know what that’s like.”
His muscles tensed, rigid like steel beneath his scarred skin. “I’m sorry.”
She started to ask him why he would be sorry when he hadn’t been the one to hurt her. Then she realized he was only echoing her own apology.
“It’s in the past,” she said instead, then patted the stool. “Ready?”
Sebastian moved fluidly to perch on the stool. He rested there, his hands lax on his thighs, his expression still tense. “If you need to position me the first time, I’m ready.”
“No, that’s okay.” Callie picked up one of her sketch pads and went back to the couch. She curled up on it, her legs tucked beneath her, and touched the pencil to the paper’s slightly rough surface. “If you want to ask me things about Sector Three, go ahead. Quid pro quo, right?”
One of his fingers tapped against his thigh. “Tell me about the other teachers,” he said finally.
Callie quickly sketched the slight quirk of his brow. “What would you like to know?”
“You’re not all from Three.” That definitely wasn’t a question. “The history teacher…”
“Leah,” she supplied. “She’s from Sector Two. Like me.”
His gaze flicked toward her for a heartbeat. “But not the same house,” he said. “You don’t have the same training.”
The pencil tip jerked slightly, and Callie smoothed away the smudge. “No, we don’t. Leah was an Orchid. I was a Dahlia. Entirely different….specialties, if you will.”
“Hers included combat.” His finger jumped again, before he flexed his hand and seemed to intentionally still himself. “The woman who leads Sector Four. She was an Orchid too?”
“Lex.” Callie smiled. “Lex is famous–or infamous. My advice?” She arched an eyebrow, subtly mimicking his expression. “Never cross an Orchid.”
His lips shifted almost imperceptibly. “I wouldn’t have underestimated her. Or the one who does the scavenging runs. River.”
“River is Sector Three, through and through.” Callie did two quick studies–the angle of his jaw, and the slope of his shoulder into his upper arm. “She’s a good person. Honest to a fault, and shockingly generous. But she doesn’t trust easily. And if you betray her trust, it’s all over for you. Maybe literally.”
“Few trust easily in the Sectors, from what I’ve observed,” he murmured. “It’s rarely advisable.”
“I won’t argue with that.” Callie outlined the angles of his collarbones. “Have you met Blue?”
“Bren pointed her out, but I haven’t spoken to her.” He hesitated. “She seemed…”
“Innocent? Sweet?” Callie looked up to meet his gaze. “Dangerously so, on both counts?”
“Vulnerable,” he said after a moment. “It’s not something many of us have been allowed to be.”
Out of everyone at the school, Callie understood Blue the best. She recognized the other woman’s determination, even when others misinterpreted it as naivete or ignorance.
“You’ve got it all wrong.” Callie tipped the pad up and rested her chin on it. “No one allowed Blue to be vulnerable. It’s gotten her hurt in the past, and it will get her hurt again. But if she lets that pain change her, harden her, wouldn’t that mean they won?”
Sebastian’s gaze locked on her face, and then, after an endless moment, he inclined his head. “I see the distinction.”
His eyes really were remarkable. As deep and dark as the ocean, sharper than any knife. She stared back at him, willing herself to commit them to memory, though she wasn’t sure when she’d be confident enough to try and put them to paper.
The longer she stared, the harder her heart thumped. Finally, when she was sure he’d be able to hear it, she broke away and went back to her sketches.