Page 19 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

19

POLARIS

E very step I take is filled with trepidation, silently pleading for Asher’s statement to be false. He’s already overwhelmed me with so much knowledge that I can’t wrap my head around, this will just be the icing on the cake, but not the good kind.

I wish.

It seems I’m meant to stumble over one hurdle after another. The last thing I need after them mentioning that I need a coven, and that it was my mind magic pushing me to the brink of insanity today, is more than I can bear.

My first instinct is to want to scribble it all down in my journal, and if what he says is true and they’re storing my information, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t continue my life without journaling, I would never survive, but where do I get a new one? One that isn’t spilling my secrets.

Entering the main academy building, I follow behind Lincoln and Asher, who stalk ahead while Tatum and Wylder keep a step behind Minnie and me. A comfortable silence drifts along with us and I’m thankful there’s no need to talk as I try to battle the panic twisting inside of me as well.

Taking the next left turn, we grind to a halt, facing the door at the end of the hall with a black plaque in the center.

Professor Whitmore.

Lincoln wastes no time trying the door handle, and to my surprise, it swings open without resistance. Asher glances back as his friend steps inside, shrugging like he’s just as shocked, and the rest of us follow them in.

The room is massive. A wide window lining the far wall offers views across the manicured lawns with the dorm buildings in the distance. Rich green curtains hang on either side, matching the finishings on the sofa to the left and the stitching on the grand chair that sits dominantly behind the desk. The entire right wall is filled with books of all shapes and sizes, but it’s the cabinets to the left that have everyone’s attention.

Following after the others, I nervously press my lips together as I hang back, letting them do their thing as my pulse throbs with panic. But when they try to open the cabinet labeled Florentines , nothing happens.

Lincoln tries three more times, confirming the lack of access, and all five sets of eyes turn my way.

“It’s spelled shut,” Asher states, his eyebrows furrowing as he itches his temple.

“Witch, you’re up,” Lincoln states, cocking a brow at me, and I shake my head.

“It’s not as simple as that,” I explain, twisting my hands together nervously when it’s clear they’re going to need more of an explanation than that. “There are words to say and things to do and?—”

“Do you need this?” Wylder asks, reaching into the backpack I didn’t realize he had, only to reveal a grimoire. Not just any grimoire. My fucking grimoire.

Cutting the distance between us, I glare at him, snatching it from his hands. “Where did you get this?”

“Your room,” he says with a shrug. “You didn’t even notice it was gone, Little Witch,” he adds with a wink as the irritation coiling in my stomach becomes uncontrollable.

“You’re an ass,” I grunt, stepping back from him with a huff as I pin the leather cover against my chest.

“I’m aware. Let’s get this thing open, and then you can hate me later,” he offers, and my eyes narrow.

“I hate you now.”

“Of course you do.” I can sense the eye roll he’s holding back and it makes me even more annoyed.

“There are boundaries here and you all keep overstepping them. Are you forgetting that quadrants aren’t supposed to mix?” I bite, feeling my face heat but not in a blushing kind of way that reveals my embarrassment. No. In the red angry kind of way.

“Well aware, Little Witch,” he grunts, and it almost seems like I’ve hit a nerve or something, but that can’t be possible.

“Then stop,” I snap, my chest heaving as I try with all that I am to put a barrier between us.

His eyebrow arches again as he steps toward me. “And if I can’t?”

I gulp. My mouth is bone dry as I scramble for a response.

“The magic, focus on that instead of whatever the fuck this is,” Lincoln interjects, jump starting my thoughts as I whirl around to him.

“You can shut up as well,” I hiss, and he lifts his hands in surrender, but the eye roll is clear.

“With pleasure.”

Eyeing Tatum and Minnie, they stand side by side, watching the shit show that is my life, but don’t add anything to the mess and I’m silently thankful to them. Before I fall any farther down the rabbit hole with these two assholes, I open the grimoire.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but as I lean it against the desk, I find a worn page detailing the contents, and a few flicks through the sheets later, I find a header that reads; Disengage.

Maybe that might work?

Tucking my hand into the sleeve of my sweater, I reveal my small pouch of sand as I read through the instructions. It seems simple enough. I don’t need any candles or extra items, just me, my sand, and the words. I just have to run the sand in a special way over the locked area and hope it works.

I rub my lips together nervously, turning toward the cabinet, and everyone moves back a step, giving me the space I need. My heart pulses in my ears, my nerves thrumming through my veins as I take a deep breath.

Reaching for a pinch of sand, I run the grains between my fingers, playing the words in my mind as I read them before I extend my hand, running the sand over the top of the cabinet. Swooping a circle, I replicate the pattern of the star engrained in the floor of Professor Juniper's room as I say the words out loud.

“Recludo. Resero. Resigno. Recludo. Resero. Resigno. Recludo. Resero. Resigno.”

The resounding click of the latch disengaging echoes around the room and I gape in disbelief, stumbling back a step with my sand pressed against my chest.

“That was impressive, Polaris,” Tatum murmurs, making the familiar pink tint come to my cheeks as I mutter my thanks, but I can’t tear my gaze from the cabinet.

Lincoln slips around me, his knuckles ghosting over the back of my hand as he passes, and I shiver from the contact, but it quickly morphs into apprehension when he opens the cabinet to reveal an organized row of documents. One of which has my name scrawled down the side.

Fuck.

He pulls it out and I inch closer to snap it out of his hands, but he’s quicker than me. I’m frozen in place, watching as he stands on the other side of the desk, eyes grazing over the information inside.

His lips purse and the desire to scream at him is unbearable by the time he finally speaks. “You actually fucking kissed that Terence guy?” he snaps, eyes burrowing further into the words as I gasp. “And you chose him on your birthday? What the fuck, Polaris?”

“How dare you,” I growl when his eyes meet mine, the look of disdain real. He doesn’t get to judge me, and he definitely doesn’t get to read through all of my private thoughts.

I charge at him, expecting him to run, but he turns to face me head on as I round the desk, shoving at his chest with all of my might. Of course he doesn’t budge. Instead, he dumps the folder on the desk with a thud.

“More than that, you thought it would be a good idea to die? To give up? Do you not want to try?”

I shove at his chest, again and again, fury burning deep inside of me as tears track down my face.

“Fuck you, Lincoln. Fuck you!”

Sadness, disbelief, and helplessness consume me.

It’s true. It’s all true. If he knows these things I’ve told no one other than my journal, then it’s all true. They’ve been spying on me and every word I’ve written. Every word, from the first day I received the journal, was all for them to see the parts of me I didn’t want to share.

I can’t see, my tears make it impossible, blurring my vision as I pound my hands against his chest repeatedly, but each hit grows more labored. My knees threaten to give out beneath me as Tatum’s voice snaps through the air.

“Everybody out.”

“Tatum,” Wylder breathes, but he’s quickly interrupted.

“I said out .” His tone is lethal this time, and a second later, the force in front of me is gone and my hands fall to my sides, defeat clinging to my very bones. My chin drops to my chest as the door shutting vibrates through the room, and a moment later, there’s a hand on my cheek. “Polaris.”

My name is nothing more than a whisper on his lips, a blissful streak of sunshine through the clouds, but it does nothing to stop the emotions barreling through me at full force.

His thumb runs back and forth over my cheek, swiping across the tears, reminding me how real my breakdown is right now, when soft, feather-light kisses flutter over my face.

Over the tip of my nose, at the corner of my lips, along my cheekbone, over my chin, and down my throat.

He’s everywhere.

Every kiss breaks through the barrage of feelings that brim to the surface. I don’t know how much time passes, but I manage to pry my eyes open, blinking through unshed tears to find Tatum standing before me.

“It’s okay, Polaris,” he murmurs once my eyes latch on to his, and I shake my head. “Journaling gets me through the day, I have plenty of unused ones. Ones that can’t be tracked, and I definitely have one you would like,” he explains, and I hiccup through my tears.

“They have every word right there,” I rasp, and he cups my cheeks, keeping my eyes on his.

“If we could go back and change that, we would, but we can’t. All we can do is change the future. Don’t let them take this from you, Polaris. They’ve taken enough.” His lips trail over my skin again, from left to right, replacing every droplet of despair with a flicker of light.

Hope.

I exhale, letting that soak in, and slowly shake away the tremble that claims me.

When his lips brush against the corner of my mouth again, I kiss him back.

I don’t know what I’m doing, being as reckless as ever, but he’s grounding me, and I need it more than my next breath.

The second my lips ghost over his, he freezes, but his hold on my cheeks tightens. He looks straight into my eyes, peering at my soul as he does so well, and I gulp. Before I can think better of it, I rise up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his again, and he groans.

“Fuck, Polaris,” he says hoarsely, and my thighs clench together as I lean closer, pressing my chest against his.

“Please,” I beg, unsure what it is I’m actually chasing, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not doing this with you in Professor Whitmore’s office,” he states, and I reach out, curling my fingers around his arms as I hold on to him as tightly as possible.

“I need something.”

“Polaris,” he warns, his eyes dropping to my lips, and I whimper.

“Please.”

I can’t imagine what I look like right now. A mess, for sure, like I’m on the brink of shattering into a million pieces because of the sadness that settles in my heart. But he brought me back, one kiss at a time.

“Please,” I repeat. The tears that gather in my eyes this time aren’t ones of sadness, but need.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes, dropping his hands to my hips as he spins us, backing me up against the desk, but the second my butt hits the desk, I stop. With my hand pressed against his chest, I knock him back a foot and he frowns. Confusion casts over his face, but as I sink to my knees, understanding quickly dawns on him.

“Not that, Polaris. I’m not taking a single thing from you right now. It’s?—”

“Please, Tatum. I’ve never, I…”

I’m not making sense, but the way his eyes dilate tells me he understands the words I’m not saying. “Fuck.”

Taking a deep breath, I reach for the waistband of his jeans, hooking my finger over the button. “Be my first, Tatum.”

He cups my cheek, his thumb trailing back and forth once again, but this time, there are no tears beneath his touch. His jaw falls slack as he nods, just once, but it’s enough.

The button shifts under my touch and the denim parts as the zipper tugs down, revealing the throbbing length of his cock with nothing between us.

Holy shit.

He remains still, allowing me to dig deeper, and I shuffle his jeans down to his mid-thigh before I allow myself the chance to really take him in.

Up close, it looks even bigger. Red and engorged, I shiver as I watch a bead of precum trail from the tip of his cock, spilling over the protruding vein that runs the length of him.

I gulp, my mouth watering with need, but I have no idea what I’m doing. As if sensing my uncertainty, he curls his fingers in my hair, tilting my head back slightly as our eyes meet. With his free hand, he pumps at his cock, and I groan before parting my lips, desperate to feel the weight of him on my tongue.

He doesn’t disappoint, slowly running the head of his cock over my tongue, making me gasp, but I want more. Gently, I wrap my lips around him, and he groans this time, his head tilting back as he sighs.

“Fuck, Polaris.”

I reach for his length and he hisses at the contact as I wrap my fingers around him before slipping him farther past my lips until they reach my hand. My lips are stretched, my mouth full, and I want more.

Slipping back, he falls from my lips, pulsing in my palm as he looks down at me through hooded eyes. He looks as fueled by desire as I feel. A loose lock of hair has fallen free from his permanent man bun, hanging loosely at the side of his face, somehow making him even sexier.

Damn.

Leaning forward, I take him into my mouth again, trying for more this time, but it takes a few passes before he’s nearing the back of my throat. He lets me go at my own pace, but I feel his restraint in the way he grasps my hair.

I rear back, eyes settled on him as I plead once again. “Use my mouth, Tatum. Please.”

My words hang in the air for a moment as he searches my eyes. I’m certain he’s going to deny me, but just as I think it, he presses the crown of his cock against my lips, and I open willingly for him. Slowly, he reaches the back of my throat for a split second before he retracts, and I find myself chasing after him.

Not that I needed to bother. He nudges forward again almost immediately, and I groan, humming around his length as he hisses. “That’s it, Polaris. Let me fuck that sweet mouth of yours for the first time,” he rasps, igniting my body as he does just that.

Every pass grows firmer, like he’s still restraining himself, but when I grab his thighs, bracing for him, he loses his last thread of control, slamming into my mouth with precision as he hits the back of my throat over and over again.

I feel like I’m going to explode, and he’s not even touching me where I need it most. How is that possible? My thighs press together, desperate for friction, and as his hand tightens in my hair, I groan, gagging around his cock as his movements become jagged.

Ecstasy pours through me, my taut nipples dragging against the material of my bra as tingles dance over me from head to toe in time with the rhythm of his pulsing cock as it paints my throat with his release.

He slowly pulls out, looking down at me for a moment before he sinks to his knees in front of me. His lips are against mine in the next breath, claiming me as I float. When his lips slow, I place my hand against his cheek, a soft smile glossing my lips.

“In a moment of loss, you make me see clearly,” I admit, and he grins back at me.

“You make me feel like I’ve found home.”