Page 11 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

11

POLARIS

A knock sounds from my bedroom door and I know it's Bryony before I even open it. She has a certain rhythm that I'm growing familiar with. Three short raps, a brief pause, followed by a slightly louder knock.

Opening the door, I take a step back, and before I can say a single word, she bursts in like a firework catapulting around my room. She’s wearing a pale pink dress that sits just above the knee, with cropped sleeves and a delicate collar resting around her neck. It’s sporty but girly all at once.

“Wow, you look hot,” she states, raking her gaze over me from head to toe. “The silver hair does things that the black hair just couldn’t,” she adds with a wink. My cheeks heat as I tuck a loose curl behind my ear.

I can’t hide the embarrassment at her compliment. “Thanks?”

It's more of a question than anything, but she thankfully lets it slide, circling back to close the door behind her as I make my way over to my armoire, its door hanging open. Standing in front of the mirror, I take myself in. I’m not wearing anything too exciting, just a pair of denim shorts with a black tank top tucked inside the waistband. Another outfit provided by the academy.

Really, I need to figure out if I'm allowed to venture off campus and choose some clothes for myself. Not that I have any way to pay for new clothes. Part of just taking the clothes out of my wardrobe feels like I'm still conforming to another institute instead of finding a piece of myself.

“Is everything okay? You've been pretty distant today,” Bryony asks, pulling me from my thoughts, and my gaze whips to her as I offer an apologetic smile.

I’m acutely aware of the fact that I've held back most of the day after Juniper reignited my concerns over The Renegades.

“I’m sorry. That wasn't my intention,” I answer truthfully. I may not want to tell her everything, but that doesn't mean I want to become distant as well.

She waves me off with a smile as she takes a seat on my bed. “Don't apologize. I'm just worried about you. You took off in combat and… oh…”

“Oh?” I repeat, cocking a brow at her in question, and her grin widens.

“Nothing, I just wondered why Wylder hightailed you over to the wolf table at lunch, but it makes sense now,” she states, the smile spreading impossibly wide across her face.

“What makes sense?” I ask, eyebrows crinkling in confusion, and her gaze turns questioning as she aims a finger in my direction.

“You're getting pink cheeks,” she states, and I drop my gaze, more than aware of what she’s referring to. It seems playing coy isn't my best attribute.

I sigh. “I’m that obvious?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Girl, I would be that obvious too. It's just insane. I hadn't considered it since…” Her words trail off and confusion falls heavy in my gut. She presses her lips together, uncertainty glossing over her features before she shrugs. “Since it was during the day, I guess. Sure, there's a full moon party tonight, but usually, quads keep to themselves until they're in the bubble. You know?” she states, and my face drops.

“I don't know,” I admit, still irritated by the fact that I'm completely out of my element and plenty of steps behind everybody else here.

She winces. “Sorry. It's not a bad thing, just a different thing,” she explains, trying to ease the moment, but uncertainty gets the better of me this time and I twist my fingers together nervously as I consider my options.

“Maybe going isn't a good idea,” I admit, and she scoffs.

“Are you joking? We're definitely going,” she insists, bouncing to her feet and reaching for my arm.

I wish it was as simple as that.

“I know, but Bianca was a bitch about it at lunch today. I just don't want to ruffle any more unnecessary feathers,” I mumble as she gives me a pointed look and a short snicker before she stands tall, and I brace myself for her next words.

“Girl, that bitch is a fucking crow. Her feathers are forever ruffled and she never ceases her incessant squawking. Don't let her impact your life like that,” she insists, and I gulp, feeling a sense of resilience like I did earlier today, only this time in a different way. A more personal, self-approving way.

She has a point, and I should take it.

“Now, are you ready to let your hair down? Because Wylder may have taken you for a ride earlier, but you still seem way too tense.”

The moment before entering a wolf party is weird. It's like watching people drink and dance in silence with no music to offer them any rhythm, yet the moment you step over the threshold, embracing the magic, it somehow all makes sense.

I take a deep breath as I eye the crowd, trying to squash down the instant feeling of being out of place, but as if sensing our arrival, Minnie comes barreling toward us, interrupting my train of thought without even knowing.

Her smile spreads wide as she draws closer. “You're here,” she shouts animatedly. “I was worried you weren't going to come,” she adds, linking her arms through mine and Bryony’s so she’s plastered between us.

“She wasn’t,” Bryony admits, loud enough to be heard over the music, causing Minnie to gape at her for a beat before whirling around to stare at me. I roll my eyes at their dramatics.

“I’m here now,” I insist.

Thankfully, Minnie smirks, offering me a wink as she nods toward the left. “Good. Wylder is manning the bar. Let's go get a drink,” she declares, tugging us in his direction without waiting for a response from either of us.

I spot him first. His head is down, his stare fixed on whatever he’s doing behind the bar, and I bask in the moment, taking the time to drink him in like he deserves.

Things might be complicated, but the eye candy is always appreciated.

His white fitted t-shirt highlights his bulging muscles, his veins prominent even at this distance. It should be a sin. The cords of his neck are tense and the glare on his face is wicked until his eyes meet mine and they soften.

I exhale a sigh of relief, one I hadn't realized I was holding, but it's exactly the look I was searching for today in Combat. The one I didn't get, but so desperately needed after the traumatic few days I’ve lived through.

It doesn't last long, though. His eyes turn dark and twisted, but in an entirely different way. Goosebumps rake over my skin. Excitement blossoms in my gut. It looks like he's ready to eat me alive, and I feel like I'm ready to let him.

As we near the bar, uncertainty coils in my stomach after Bryony’s words earlier. It feels like what happened between us after combat was… wrong… forbidden. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought and my thighs clench together.

Why does that not sound as bad as I was expecting?

“There’s my little witch,” he states as we finally reach the bar, paying nobody else any mind as he keeps his eyes locked on me.

I falter under his stare, shifting on my feet as he takes me in, his gaze touching every part of me from head to toe.

“Wylder, we want shots,” Minnie calls out, and he rolls his eyes before offering me a wink. He turns to the line of liquor behind him and I don’t protest. I don't even pretend to look at what options there are. Everyone here knows I have no clue.

The quickest moment passes before a bottle is placed on the bar between us and I swiftly realize it's tequila. Again. Apparently, it’s now our shot of choice.

With his gaze locked on mine, he offers out a wedge of lime and a small container of salt for the girls to prepare their hands, just like he did to me on fight night. But instead of reaching out to put the salt on my hand like he did then, I watch as he licks his own finger, trailing the salt along the skin, and places the wedge of lime between his teeth.

His intention is clear. Even for me and my overwhelming na?vety.

I'm certain my face is as red as it can be when he holds the shot glass out to me, filled to the brim with liquor. I know what's expected of me, and I can’t bring myself to not follow through.

I hear Minnie count to three beside me, but my attention is locked on him. Wylder holds his hand up to me first, and I run my tongue all over the salty layer against his flesh. His pupils dilate, as I'm sure mine do too, before I reach for the shot, tipping it back and letting the burn trail down my throat.

He's in my face a moment later, lime wedge pressing against the seam of my lips, and I part them just enough to bite into the citrusy fruit. The ghost of his lips around the wedge is enough to make me sway on my feet.

My mind is abuzz, my body alight, and just as quickly as he came, he disappears again.

“That was hot,” Bryony declares, and I dip my head, embarrassed at their observation as I hear Minnie chuckling in agreement. “Where's everyone else?” she asks, thankfully, changing the direction of the conversation.

Minnie sighs. “Tatum doesn't do too well at these things. He'll likely be hiding away in his favorite spot with his drawings,” she explains, a flash of the little maze not too far from here flickering in my mind.

Wylder collects the empty glasses along the bar as he offers further explanation. “Asher is dealing with his uncle.” A look passes between Minnie and Wylder, and my gut clenches.

“Every time he's mentioned, nothing good seems to come of it,” I blurt, instantly worrying I’ve overstepped the mark, but the look Minnie gives me is one of… trust?

“You're absolutely on point with that. We should drink to it,” she insists, waving at Wylder to give us another shot, but the moment is interrupted when I'm knocked sideways, stumbling over my own feet to the sound of a girl cackling beside me.

I spin around, confused by what's going on, only to find Lincoln sandwiched between two blondes, both hanging off his every word and clinging to his flesh like it's a lifeline.

My face heats, pulsing with a mixture of jealousy and embarrassment as he laughs at something one of the girls says. It's clear I'm nothing more than an afterthought now. A fact that leaves me confused. He declined me and my virginity in one moment, and stole it the next. Maybe he didn’t steal it, not when I offered it up so willingly, but now my existence is nothing more than an inconvenience.

I’m standing here right now and it’s like I don’t exist as he relishes in the attention of the girls he’s plastered between.

At least it’s not Bianca, I guess. Either way, I'm determined to not let it get the better of me. Instead, I take a step back away from the bar, noting Minnie’s furious face and Wylder’s glare aimed at their Alpha.

“I’m going to dance,” I announce, sensing a hint of disappointment from Wylder, but he doesn't openly object.

“Save a dance for me, Little Witch,” he says with a reluctant wink as Bryony and Minnie fall into step with me. I nod over my shoulder as I go.

I barely make it to the center of the dance floor, my hips swaying to the beat, before I spot Sian off to the side, engrossed in an intense conversation with Terence. My eyebrows gather in confusion as I stare at them. Despite the dark setting, Terence’s busted, battered, and bruised face is undeniable.

Sian says something in a fit of rage before suddenly storming off, and Terence’s gaze whips around, bypassing me, and I can't stop myself from following his line of sight. Only to find him glaring at Lincoln. Turning his face in this direction offers a full visual of the state of his face and I gasp. His mouth is busted and swollen. His right eye is even worse. It’s beaten so badly that his eyelid looks fuzed shut. There’s a smattering of bruises lining cheek and jaw, leaving a sense of dread in my gut. The way he's holding himself, shoulders bunched together and his muscles stiff, leaves me scared to imagine what lies beneath his clothes.

Glancing between Terence and Lincoln, one offering deathly stares at the other while the latter pays no mind to the threat he seems to be under, my gut clenches tighter. Something tells me there's more to this situation with Terence than meets the eye.

I don't say a word as I leave the girls, hurrying toward him through the crowd with panic and concern coiling in my veins, but before I can reach him, he takes off deeper into the woods.

That's not going to stop me, though. I need to understand. I don’t know why, I just do.

“Terence,” I call out once the music dies down enough for me to be able to hear myself think.

He doesn't bother to turn around as he yells back. “Fuck off, P.”

Irritation claws inside me. “It's Polaris,” I snap, stumbling over a fallen tree trunk as I continue after him, moving farther and farther away from the party, but the music is still audible in the background so I know I’m still in the bubble.

He scoffs. “It’s P.”

Refusing to let his bullshit get in the way, I eliminate the remaining distance between us, grabbing onto his arm, and he thankfully stops in his tracks.

The light from the moon peeking through the trees is dimmer out here, but I can still see the marks on his face. “Who did this to you?” I ask, trying not to gape in horror at how awful it looks this close up.

He sneers at me. “You don't care, so stop pretending that you do,” he bites, shaking out of my hold. He continues to move, but I’m right behind him.

“Terence,” I call out, more insistently this time, and he laughs, a haunted, desperate laugh.

“You didn’t care about me back at Florentine’s, you don't care now, so fuck off.”

I rear back, his words catching me off guard, and he takes the opportunity to continue stomping off. I’m frozen in place, a defeated sigh parting my lips as I frown.

“I’m worried about you.” I blurt the words that don’t feel entirely right or true, but there's something that makes me say them.

He glances back over his shoulder, his teeth bared in restraint. “That's because I look like this because of you,” his snarls, disappearing from view in the next breath.

I blink at the darkness that remains, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“It's because of me?” I mutter to myself, trying to make sense of the situation when the sound of a branch snapping behind me interrupts my thoughts. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I freeze.

“He deserved it.”

I spin in the direction of the words, a mixture of surprise and horror coating my skin as I come face to face with what feels like the other piece to the puzzle.

Lincoln.