Page 20 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

20

POLARIS

Dear Diary,

Or should I say ‘new’ diary?

I’m still lost and helpless over the revelations of last night.

What were they trying to gain from the words we wrote in our diaries? Diaries that we were forced to write in back at Florentines. It doesn’t make sense, but there’s a part of me, deep down, that isn’t all that surprised.

We’re linked to a blood curse that kills people, someone spying on my deepest, darkest secrets doesn’t seem that far off.

Despite the shock and overwhelming thoughts circling in my mind, I passed out the second I got back to my dorm. Like, flopped on the bed in my clothes and barely even kicked my boots off. I woke before my alarm, though. Which is fine, it gives me a few minutes to test you out.

But maybe I need to end the night with a dick in my mouth to help me sleep? Like a pacifier, but for women?

It was hot, at least. I definitely want to do that again.

What’s not hot is the fact that apparently being a center witch requires me to need a coven. I don’t want to need anything, especially not one of them, but if yesterday was a reminder of anything, that pain… damn. I don’t want to go through that again.

I need to figure it out, but that feels easier said than done because I don’t even know where to begin.

Maybe I could ask Bryony… but I haven’t seen or heard from her since Lucille fell victim to the blood kin curse.

I don’t know, but I guess I’m not going to find out just sitting here.

Polaris x

S lipping into a pair of slim-fit jeans and a loose sweater, I opt to use the backpack stuffed at the back of my armoire today. I need somewhere better for my sand and grimoire. Unfortunately, my grimoire won’t fit up my sleeve so my backpack will have to do.

I finish the look with sneakers and run my fingers through my silver hair. It’s still a little damp from the early morning shower, so I decide to toss it up on top of my head in a bun since I haven’t figured out how to use my magic to accomplish such a menial task.

Maybe that’s what my plan of action needs to be for the day; learn the inconsequential stuff. I think it may help me connect better with my magic if I’m able to use it on a more regular basis.

With my hair tie secured in place, I nod at my reflection, happy with my plan before I head out into the hallway.

It’s weird not having Bryony knock on my door this morning, and as I make my way to the end of the hall, ready to turn the tables, I realize she’s only ever come to me.

Retrieving my cell phone from the front zipper of my backpack, I tap out a quick message.

Polaris: Hey, I’m heading for breakfast. Are you around?

I make my way downstairs as I wait for her response, but there’s nothing. I consider asking another witch in the communal area, but it’s just my luck that there’s no one there when I reach the first floor.

Rubbing my lips together, uncertainty claws at me as I consider what to do, opting for another text message.

Polaris: I’ll sit in our usual spot so you know where I am.

Polaris: I hope you are okay.

Tucking my cell phone away, I make my way to the main academy building, gnawing on my bottom lip with every step. I’m fine on my own, that’s not the issue, it’s more the fact that I’m not really equipped to be someone’s friend, not in the way she might need, and I don’t want to do something wrong, inadvertently, because I’m being obtuse.

I’m still locked on my concerns as I step into the dining hall, my gaze immediately darting up and down the length of the witches’ table, but I don’t find her. As I make my way to our usual seats, I notice the other student members of The Renegades aren’t present either.

Maybe it’s something to do with her coven and their center.

The possibility calms my uncertainty and I take my seat, eyes instantly darting across the room to the wolves’ table. Minnie is talking animatedly to Lincoln, who throws his head back with a laugh at whatever she’s saying, while Asher has his chin dipped and his gaze locked on his cell phone once again. Tatum is sitting beside him, eyes aimed my way, with a small curl to his lips as he mouths a single word.

“Hi.”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I reply with a smile and a slight wave of my own. I’m about to question where Wylder is when a shadow casts over me from behind.

“Little Witch,” he murmurs, one hand curling around the back of my seat while the other nestles on the table beside me.

I look up at him, the woodsy scent that follows him everywhere wrapping around me as I smile.

“Big bad wolf,” I reply, earning a questioning look. “What? If I’m a little witch, then you’re the big bad wolf,” I explain, and he snickers, shrugging instead of denying the claim.

“Well, the big bad wolf doesn’t want you sitting all alone. Come be with us.”

I press my lips together, eyes darting across the room once again, but the sight of Bianca only reminds me of the reasons why I shouldn’t do that. I’m shaking my head before I turn to him, and I can see the protest on his lips, but I press a finger to his mouth, halting the words as I speak.

“Thank you for the offer, I really appreciate it, but I can’t, and it’s not just because of the tension that comes with it.” His eyes widen, ready to interject, but I press the tip of my finger harder as I push on. “It’s also because I haven’t seen Bryony since everything happened with Lucille and I promised I would be here, in this exact spot, when or if she showed up.”

His eyebrows furrow for a beat before he presses his lips against my fingertip and pulls the closest chair out to take a seat.

“Then I will join you, Little Witch,” he decides, and I gape at him as he drops my hand from his face and effortlessly reaches for a plate and starts dishing food out.

“That’s not a good idea,” I insist, my pulse ringing in my ears as the other witches around us watch openly. At least they’re not snarling and giving me shit like Bianca does, but that still doesn’t make this a good idea.

“What’s not?” Wylder asks, not even bothering to look at me as he grabs a bottle of water now that his plate is piled high with food.

“This… whatever this is,” I grumble, glaring at him as he finally looks my way with an amused look on his face.

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one, Little Witch,” he states, eyes casting down to my empty plate. “Here, take mine,” he adds, switching the plates before us.

This is what it feels like to be utterly swept up in the chaos of a wolf. A feeling I seem to be growing all too familiar with. Staring down at the pile of scrambled eggs, layers of crispy bacon, and stack of pancakes, I don’t even know where to begin.

“Thanks,” I mumble in protest, feeling my cheeks heat further with the sensation of eyes raking over me, but when my gaze snaps across the room, the wolves I was expecting are deep in conversation.

“They’re not going to save you from me, Polaris. If anything, they’re going to encourage me to sit here with you every day so they don’t have to deal with my shit,” Wylder says with a snicker, and I roll my eyes at him.

“That’s not what I was thinking,” I mumble, grabbing my fork and scooping up some eggs.

“Then tell me what you were thinking,” he pushes as I take a bite of food, thankful for the brief moment of solitude before I have to answer.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I finally answer, grabbing at a piece of bacon this time, and he grins at me. The second he inches closer, I already know he’s going to leave me blushing.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about,” he murmurs, his volume dropping to little more than a whisper, and I shake my head.

“I don’t want to know,” I insist, fork poised over my food as I refuse to take a bite, knowing full well he’s going to tell me anyway, and I’d rather not choke.

“Well, I’m going to treat you with it anyway,” he starts, and tingles shimmer up my arms. “I was thinking how it was criminal last night to be on the other side of the door while you took Tatum’s cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. I bet he stretched your lips wide, didn’t he? I bet you looked fucking delectable with glossy eyes. Fuck, the moans, the moans are all I’ve been thinking about.”

Rest in peace, Polaris Beauchamp.

Dead to the hot words from the insufferable man that is Wylder fucking Aires.

No one was outside of the office when we left, I thought they were long gone. It seems I was wrong.

Fuck.

I don’t know what to say. All I can do is blink at him, my face most definitely the shade of deathly embarrassment, and he laps it up.

“Don’t worry, Little Witch. You can settle my mind with all of these thoughts by promising me your time tonight,” he breathes, lifting his hand to cup my face. His thumb grazes over my heated cheek, my skin prickling at the contact. “I’ll even say please.”

“I-I need to s-study t-tonight,” I stutter, struggling to breathe under his intense stare as he pouts.

“After that.” How am I supposed to answer this man when I feel like I’m about to self combust? He takes my silence as rejection and tilts my chin back. “You’re going to make me wait until fight night tomorrow, aren’t you?” he breathes, but there’s no disappointment in his tone. If anything, he seems amused. “Fine, have it your way. Delayed gratification is my thing, or our thing, it seems.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “But promise me this,” he whispers, bringing his lips to my ear.

“What?” I whisper, my heart thundering in my chest.

“When you find your hand traveling south later, make sure it’s my name on your lips, okay?” He leans back, seemingly satisfied with the heated horror that morphs my face before he rises from his seat. “Behave, Little Witch,” he states with a wink, and then he’s gone.

What in the ever loving fuck just happened?

I feel like I’ve just been smashed by a freight train.

Scrambling to focus on my surroundings and shield the effect he has on me, I eat. I barely finish half of what he loaded onto the plate, but I’m stuffed. A quick glance at the time, and I panic. Classes start in five minutes and Bryony still isn’t here.

Reluctantly, I rise from my seat, backpack over my shoulder as I head for the exit. I keep my head down, avoiding everyone’s potential stares, especially the wolves. I make it outside unscathed, until I round the corner and bump into someone.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I ramble, stumbling back to see it’s Foster, another asshole from The Renegades.

“Maybe watch where you’re fucking going in the future,” he grunts, and although I want to snap back at him, I notice the redness that circles his eyes. He’s been crying.

Clearing my throat, I try my best to let his harsh words trail off. “I will. Sorry. You haven’t seen Bryony, have you?” I ask, and his sneer only grows more cruel as he peers down at me.

“Oh, she sure as shit doesn’t want to see you right now,” he bites before storming off, shoulder barging into me as he goes.

Guilt trickles down my spine as panic sets in just before the weight of a hand on my shoulder buoys me.

I lean into the touch, a sense of comfort washing over me as I turn to see who it is, but then everything is… black.