Page 10 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

10

POLARIS

A weight hangs over me as I step into my sigil class. I feel even more out of place than I did at the wolves’ table. I'm just as flustered as I was in the dining hall, although now the topic of and reason for my discomfort has changed.

My gaze instantly drifts to Terence and Sian hunched over a book at the table to the left. Despite the fact that she’s released her sigil, it seems she’s set on helping him since he took off after her the other day. I wonder what it's like to still have someone to rely on since coming here. Sure, I have Bryony, and possibly even Minnie, but they don't have the lingering trauma of being a Florentine.

Maybe Danica and Helena could be of help, but they seem quite happy to just be the two of them. Although, I haven't made any effort to try getting to know them, as if I subconsciously know it's a lost cause.

“Come, Polaris. We have much to read through for your sigil to break,” Professor Sommers states as she scurries past me, barely offering me a sideways glance.

Nervously, I rub my lips together before I take a breath. “Professor, my sigil is broken.”

She pauses mid-step, whipping around to stare deep into my eyes with surprise, and a glimmer of hope flashes through them. It’s strange what a few little words can achieve. A sense of purpose and faith, and it’s only the beginning.

“That's wonderful news. You won't need to borrow any of the books in here then. Please, follow me,” she insists, and I hurry after her as she leads me toward the old books at the back of the room. But instead of stopping to flick through them, she pushes at the frame, and to my surprise, it opens up into another room. Not just any room, a library.

It's as if the ceiling goes on to the stars, lined with rows and rows of books, bound and wrapped in leather, holding information I can't even begin to imagine.

There are a few other students inside, each sitting in chairs or on cushions scattered across the floor. They each have books in their hands and a stack beside them.

“You have a lot to learn, Polaris. Now that you've experienced the gift of breaking your sigil, here is where you now must really learn about what this world holds for you.” She rocks back on her heels, a wistful-yet-strained expression flashing across her features.

“I don't understand,” I state, and she offers me a tight, soft smile, filled with hints of regret.

“There's a lot to understand, Polaris. Not just about you, where you come from and what your capabilities are, but also what you're going to be up against. In my opinion, this should be the first lesson you get, but it's only after you’ve broken your sigil that you're able to come in here.

“That doesn't make any sense at all,” I blurt, eyeing the books, and she hums in agreement.

“I know, but unfortunately, I don't get to make the rules. I may only aid you the best I can.”

“What's different about the books in here?” I ask and she beams as she takes a moment to bask in the knowledge lining the walls.

“The difference with these books is they will help you to understand the abilities and lineage of not just yourself, but other supernatural beings. It will also show you historical examples and times where the human world has been threatened by our presence, and how the right thing has been done to keep us a secret.”

“I don't understand how or why we're a secret,” I admit, the realization finally dawning on me. I feel like I've been walking around in a haze since I arrived here, clinging to the Florentine drapes that hang from my shoulders. It feels like I'm finally having the cover ripped off my head, and it's as if I've accepted a world I know nothing about.

Although, I don’t feel like there is an alternative outcome to choose. The only option I have is survival.

“It's a lot to wrap your head around, Polaris. Which is why I recommend you start in the left section. Over there, you'll find information that will break down each quad so you can begin to learn and better understand this world we have to navigate.” I nod like it makes sense, but it doesn't, and she takes it as my gospel truth and leaves, clicking the bookcase closed behind her.

The other students pay me no mind, continuing to read through the books before them as I turn in the direction she recommended. Taking a few steps, I run my finger over the closest leather-bound book, gold etched into the spine.

Wolves.

I almost scoff at the irony that this is the first book I find, but despite the chuckle it gives me, I pull it from the bookshelf, eager to learn more. Scanning the section, I find another book that is paramount to our history.

The Source of the Blood Curse

Happy with my first two choices, I'm ready to find myself a spot to delve into them, but another book catches my eye. Before I can change my mind, I grab that one too.

Vampires.

If they're going to keep coming at me, I'm going to need to understand everything there is to know about them.

Making my way to the far right side of the space, where nobody else is seated, I find a purple bean bag tucked in the corner and take a seat, crossing my legs and getting comfortable.

I stare at the three books before me, unsure where to begin.

There are a lot of facts to learn, but really, I need to start where it all began: the blood curse.

The tattered black leather is worn, the pages feeling flicked through one thousand times before as I gently open the book and stare at the first page. The table of contents runs on the right hand side, listing off the random sections to better understand the blood curse, but starting at the top seems prudent.

There's no use skipping forward when it’s the beginning I’m trying to understand.

Turning the page, I clear my throat, taking a deep breath as I relax into the words. Line after line, pain after pain. Someone's perspective is written about the casting witch who cursed us all as blood kins.

I can't really connect with the words, understand them, or wrap my head around most of them, and it's only when I turn the page to find a passage of text in a cursive font standing out from the rest of the book that everything begins to make sense.

It takes me a moment, but when realization dawns on me, I gape in surprise. Written, right there among the secondhand knowledge, are words straight from the witch herself. I draw the pages closer, finally letting the words sink in.

Once I loved, once I felt, once I grew, once I drowned in sorrow, once I felt the pain of their bow and arrow.

I was theirs, and they were mine. Love had conjured and intertwined.

Six as one, one from all. Blessed by destiny, we shall never fall.

You take from me, I take from you. You never shall start anew.

Take my love, steal my breath. You shall receive my kiss of death.

My love was stolen at just twenty-two, and now that same burning demise shall come for you.

You shall not walk this path alone, but never shall you feel at home.

Fight for your worth, fight for your spirit, fight for the hand to receive your ticket.

Shattered into pieces, wholly mistreated, I will continue to ensure history is repeated.

In small, delicate handwriting, a name is scrawled across the bottom.

Bella Champs.

I gulp, letting the words settle in my soul, feeling emotions I cannot process.

We know little about the witch that cast the spell, or I do at least, but what I do know is her love and connection to the other quadrants is what caused her demise, leading to the fall of everyone else along with her. Yet I can’t get past the pain she felt, despite living with the ramifications of her actions.

I can't imagine feeling so heartbroken and betrayed that I felt my only option was to curse people with what I was feeling in hopes of them understanding. Yet here we are, all of this time later, still wading through the ramifications of her actions, learning nothing from the pain and disaster. Her words resonate inside, swirling deep in my gut, and I decide a change in topic might be best. I can circle back to the blood curse book later.

Eyeing the Wolves and the Vampires books, there is no question where I'm heading.

First, I’m eager to know more about the men that hold me captive. I should probably be focused on finding books on witches, learning more about myself, but I feel overwhelmed by the thought of anything even remotely personal right now. This will do.

I don't even bother looking at the contents page as I dive into the brown, leather-bound book and begin to read.

Page after page, my eyes skim over the words, reading about their abilities, and I’m left breathless. An intense sense of smell, hearing, touch, and taste, in human form, on top of the ability to shift into a wolf. Two living beings merging as one.

Images fill the pages, showing the different flash of colors in their eyes, the varying sizes they can grow to and the patterns of their fur that can link them to their lineage. Noting their lineage, it’s impossible not to understand how important family is to them. I’m sure the pages don’t even do it justice, but I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The way Wylder, Asher, Tatum, and Lincoln are together is no different than how Lincoln acts with his sister, Minnie. They’re as close-knit as it gets, or as tightly bonded as any people I’ve ever seen.

It also explains how the full moon forces the wolves to shift by connecting them with their inner spirit. I can't help but feel a twang of jealousy over that connection they have, not only between themselves, but with their spirit animal. Not even just spirit. It's real, I've seen them. Turning the page, my attention catches on the chapter title: Mates .

I run my finger over the written text, quickly learning that it references the connection to a love interest of a wolf. The third passage is a simple statement.

Love knows no bounds, sealed for eternity, together as one.

I’m enraptured, my cheeks heating as I press on.

Full moons are for connecting with your wolf, a Super Moon, when it nearly coincides with Perigee, is the moon of love. Temperatures rise, both in the air and in the veins of a wolf, making mating rituals a natural occurrence.

The passage carries on, but I have to stop reading, feeling as though my body is going to self combust as it practically spells out a fuck-fest.

I drop the book, giving myself a moment to catch my breath, and thankfully no one is watching my embarrassment. Taking a glance at the time, I notice there's still twenty minutes left of class. I've already read to my heart's content from the two books before me, which leaves my attention falling to the third.

Vampires.

I don’t question it, I just pick it up, glancing over the first page. I should search the table of contents and skip to their weaknesses, if they have any, but I find myself intrigued. Running my finger over the page, I consume each word.

Fed on blood, they can dart through the night at high speeds, with the ability to hear your heart racing from an incredible distance. But more than that, they have the unique ability to compel those around them. To compel someone is to force them to do as a vampire wishes. From parlor tricks to forgetting any interaction with them. Such a gift is mostly used when feeding on their prey without killing them, ensuring their victim doesn’t recall the event. Their strength only grows as they live in such solitude that companions rarely become a vulnerability, not unless they have a love.

Vampires, in a similar fashion to mated wolves, imprint on their devoted.

I don't want to read it, but I find myself being drawn to the information.

When a vampire finds the nectar blood that not only strengthens their abilities, but heightens them to another level, they will almost always imprint on this devoted vessel. It is rare for this to occur, but not so rare as to be unheard of. The imprint, while cherished, is also a weakness the enemies of the pair can take advantage of.

That almost sounds… traumatically romantic.

Turning the page, my eyes widen and I shift in position as I take in the next chapter header: Weaknesses.

To stop the effects of compulsion, the combined ingredients of wolfsbane and lavender must be merged together. This must be consumed for the most potent effect, although some choose to combine with water to create a spray. The downside to this alternative is some vampires can smell the lavender. In most circumstances, the smell alone will keep the vampires away, but in some parts of the quadrant it triggers anger and fits of rage, bringing more harm than good upon the carrier of the concoction.

Digging my hand into my pocket, I pull my cell phone out. Making use of the camera for the first time, I snap a picture, storing the information for later, as it may be useful at some point. Especially since I'm quite sure I've been under the influence of compulsion too many times since I've been here.

Shuffling sounds startle me back to the present, and I notice everybody packing up to leave. I quickly stand, gathering my books and putting them away, along with everybody else. When I slot the final book back into its place, my gaze locks on another along the same shelf.

There's something about the initials carved on the side that makes me pause.

T. K. O. G.

Each letter is etched into the leather with bright golden ink. I frown, my eyebrows crinkling as I replay the letters in my mind. I haven’t just seen them before, I know them better than I know myself. I tuck my hands into my pockets, searching for the familiar bite of metal in my pocket.

Spinning it in my hand, I run my thumb over the Joker's face before turning it to see the back side, and my heart stills.

T. K. O. G.

The same initials, but what does it mean?

The bell chimes as I reach for the book, and Professor Sommers appears in the doorway a few seconds later, waving us out.

“Can I take this book with me?” I ask instinctively, glancing over my shoulder at her, and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Polaris, no books can leave this room. Unfortunately, it's not me who makes the rules.” I nod in understanding as she eyes me intently. “What’s your concern with the book, Polaris?” she asks, and I shake my head, making sure to stuff my coin back in my pocket.

“Nothing in particular. I was just interested. That's all,” I say, forcing a smile on my face as I bypass her and exit the classroom along with everybody else.

Those four initials play on loop in my brain as I blindly head toward my next class. I’m getting more familiar with the campus now, but as I make my way through the halls, I can’t seem to focus on anything, my mind caught in the mystery of those initials.

I arrive at my next class, but everything is a blur as I take my seat. I don’t pay much attention to anything or anyone, not even Bryony when she leans over my desk, muttering something about looking for me. I manage an apology, or I hope I do, but I can’t be certain. After this morning, can I talk to her about it? She technically didn’t do anything, but considering the words Professor Juniper left me with… I’m torn.

Could I mention it to the wolves? To Wylder or Tatum? I don’t know. Lincoln made it clear he’s mad at me, and Tatum assured me there were things he knew but was unwilling to share in my room yesterday. Wylder could be an option, but today has already been chaotic with him. My thighs still ache from the last time we were close.

Asher? Minnie?

I don’t know.

They’re only a seat behind me right now, this class being a mixture of all quadrants, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. Maybe I need to figure this out alone. The only true trust I have is with myself.

The silence stretches around me, and I startle when the bell rings, drawing the class and the day of lessons to an end. I don’t hang around, bolting to my feet and rushing for the door without a backward glance. I run and I run until the witches’ dorm comes into view. My pace doesn’t slow until I’m in my room, breathless as I reach for the safety of my journal.

Falling to my knees, I feel the bite of the floor beneath me as I open up to the next available page and begin scrawling.

Dear Diary,

I finally came to terms with the fact that I'm a supernatural. A thing I didn't think was possible. Not that I was left to believe that much was possible at Florentines, but today, having read about other supernaturals, I know the truth.

Now there's no shaking it, no denying it.

On top of all that, I have some connection to something bigger than me. T. K. O. G.

I don't know what it means. I don't know if I want to know what it means, and I'm silently grateful that I couldn't bring the book from the room so I can bury my head in the sand for just a little longer.

I feel like I have a chance to find out who I truly am, but in doing so, I must find and understand a past that I have no recollection of and no connection to.

I didn't know who to tell or where to turn, and keeping it bottled up hurts my chest.

So here I am, spilling it all to you. Or to me.

Either way, I hope to take strength from this carnage that is my life eventually.

Speaking of carnage, Wylder made me mad today, and I threw sand at him. In return, he fucked me against the tiled wall in the bathroom. Did I just have hate sex? I don’t think so, he wouldn’t let go of me after. It was intense, and consuming, and I’m sure there will be bruises when I look, but… I think I liked it.

Here’s to surviving another day at Trinity Falls Academy.

Polaris x