Page 21 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

21

POLARIS

M y nose scrunches up first and my forehead wrinkles in confusion as a wave of unease washes over me. My hands ball into fists at my sides and the feel of soft sheets beneath me eases a little of the tension that courses through my body.

Taking a deep breath, I pry my eyes open, my confusion deepening as I stare at a familiar ceiling—my ceiling. With another exhale, I press my hands into the mattress and shuffle back to prop myself against the headboard.

A quick glance at the clock confirms it’s dinner time and I gulp. Why am I in bed right now? Scrubbing my forehead, I try to recall the last thing I remember before the darkness. I had the joy of experiencing Foster’s prickly side, then… nothing.

This can’t keep happening to me.

At least I managed to find my way back to my room this time. There’s got to be a silver lining in this somewhere, right?

My bedroom door rattles with a knock, a hint of impatience in the banging.

Slipping out of bed, I glance at myself and sigh in relief when I see I’m still wearing the clothes I put on this morning. It doesn’t explain much, but I suppose it’s another bit of information to add to the growing pile of jigsaw pieces I can’t fit together.

Another knock reverberates through the wood as I throw my door open to find Bryony standing there. Her eyebrows are knitted together in confusion, her lips pursed tight, and the tension doesn’t ease when her eyes latch on to mine.

“Hey,” I breathe, banding my arms around my middle nervously as she stares me down.

She sucks in a deep breath, standing taller with the movement before she nods at me. “We need to talk.”

“We do?” I ask, stepping back to let her in without hesitation. I notice how she makes an effort to give me plenty of space before settling at the foot of my bed.

I remain by the door, closing it behind me as I wait for her to find whatever words she’s searching for. She taps her thumbs nervously on top of her laced fingers, nipping at her bottom lip as she glares at my floor, but the moment she lifts her gaze to mine, she speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tucking a loose tendril of hair behind my ear, I tilt my head. “Today has been a long day, Bryony. I’m going to need you to elaborate,” I admit, even though technically I’ve lost half of my day, but that’s beside the point. The mental drain is still there.

“You’re a mind witch, a center,” she explains, and I gulp. Disappointment washes over her face. “It’s really true, and you didn’t say anything.”

Despite my best efforts, my defenses rise. My hands slip from my waist to land on my hips, my ire rising with every breath I take. “I didn’t realize I had to.”

Her eyes widen, and her thumb-tapping pauses. “But why wouldn’t you? I’m supposed to be your friend. I can help you. Don’t you trust me?” The look on my face must reveal exactly what I’m thinking. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me.”

I sigh, feeling the tension in my neck ease as my arms drop to my sides. “I do trust you, Bryony, you’re my closest friend here, but truthfully, everything that went down with The Renegades… it left me a lot more cautious. It reminded me that I can trust too easily and I shouldn’t be doing that in a new place, especially not a place that is literally oriented around surviving the blood kin curse. Trusting someone isn’t as simple as just saying it. I wish that was all it took. Everything is being thrown at me from all directions, all I want to do is trust everyone’s intentions, but there’s more to this place than that. We’re all made up of some cursed DNA that snatches fate and destiny from our grasp and throws caution to the wind. You could be my blood kin. Have you thought about that? We could be the closest friends to ever exist, but what happens if we are? I literally arrived here with what I thought was a friend, only for her to be revealed as a vampire, and she immediately left me in the dust. Is that what’s going to happen when we turn twenty-one too?”

She blinks at me, likely unprepared for the barrage of words pouring from my lips, but they’re all valid concerns. There’s no denying it.

“I understand all of that, Polaris, but why keep your magic a secret?” I shrug, and she sighs. “It’s because I’m a Renegade, isn’t it.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. She already knows the truth.

My chin falls to my chest, a hint of guilt coursing through me. “Professor Juniper said?—”

“Juniper? What does this have to do with her?”

My eyes dart back to hers. My jaw falls slack as I watch the confusion shift over her face and I sigh. “She didn’t say anything I didn’t already know or experience from The Renegades, Bryony.”

Her lips purse, her argument cut short on her tongue. “I told you I was Bryony first, Renegade second.”

“Technically, you said a blood kin first,” I correct her, and she gives me a pointed look.

“That’s beside the point. I’m your friend , Polaris. If Professor Juniper is so great at advice, is she at least aiding you in grounding your magic?”

I avoid her gaze and she sighs. “I’m disappointed, Polaris, but I get it. I do, I just… you don’t have to go through all of this alone.” She rises from the bed, the movement drawing my eyes back to her. “Could we be blood kin? Yes, but until I know that for a fact, then I’m going to act like we’re not. Life is cruel enough; surely it can’t do that to us, too, you know?” I nod in understanding and she offers me a tight smile. “Being a center, a mind witch, is completely different than any other witch. Lucille would…” Her words trail off and my gut clenches.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nods, the movement stiff. “It’s… hard. We’re supposed to be ready for this kind of thing, but it seems impossible. Now we’re a broken coven without a center to ground us and no purpose. It’s strange.” I smile, allowing her to express herself even though I can’t really relate.

“What does that mean for you guys going forward?” I ask, and she folds her arms over her chest.

“That’s not a priority right now. We’ve paid our respects and are in mourning for the next few days. Then all of The Renegade covens will gather to discuss the situation.”

I frown. “All of The Renegades? I thought it was just six members?”

“Each coven consists of branches, six in each. We’re small fish in the vast Renegade pond,” she explains, and I gulp, absorbing the new information. She sighs again, shaking her arms out as she nods at the door, and it’s clear she’s not willing to discuss it anymore. “I came by because I needed a distraction, but it seems everything has found the path back to my troubles. Want to focus on yours instead?” she asks, piquing my interest.

“How?”

She shrugs. “If Juniper hasn’t discussed everything you need to know about being a center, then maybe you need to take the matter into your own hands and find it for yourself.”

If I thought the hidden library in Professor Sommers’s class was impressive, then this is undoubtedly otherworldly. Is that even a thing? I don’t know, but it’s… beautiful.

Standing just over the threshold of the academy’s main library, I scan my eyes from left to right and back again before repeating the action. Each section is color coordinated to reflect the colors of the supernatural quadrant about which the books are written. Similar to the dorm buildings, the colors transition from onyx to gold, bronze, and silver. The floor even changes materials to match. Candles float in the air, illuminating every row as a twinkling night sky hovers above, despite the sun still shining outside in the late evening.

I want to absorb it all, every ounce of knowledge, but my first focus has to be to follow the sandy road. I’ve allowed my intrigue of wolves and vampires to steer my attention previously, but tonight and every step going forward has to be about understanding myself.

“Where do you want to start?” Bryony asks, heading toward the onyx section to the left, and I follow after her.

Guilt creeps up my spine as regret gets the better of me. Why did I doubt our friendship? It was silly of me. She’s the one here helping me when I’m lost. I need to remember that.

Catching up to her, I grab her arm before she turns down the first row of books, stopping her in her tracks. “Thank you… for this, I mean,” I ramble nervously, and she offers me a tight smile.

“Always. That’s what friends are for, right? Besides, you’re distracting me from my own mess, so I’m being selfish here, too, remember?” she adds with a wink, and I grin. At least she’s honest. “So, where do you want to start?”

I press my lips together, glancing past her to the books. There are a lot. A lot, a lot. How am I supposed to know where to begin?

“My stance on covens hasn’t changed,” I admit, and she nods in understanding.

“I assumed.”

“But Asher said that’s how I’ll become grounded, so I don’t feel whatever I felt when…” My words trail off, but she understands. When everything was going down with Blaze and Declan, I felt… a lot, and in those penultimate moments, when Declan died at the hands of Blaze, so did Lucille, and now Bryony is dealing with the aftermath of that.

I can only assume it was in that moment too, when my body was drunk on the intense emotions, that Bryony realized my magic type too.

“Maybe you should focus on mind witches first, then?” she suggests, and I nod, mumbling my thanks as I follow her down the endless rows.

She doesn’t stop until she reaches the very end, where each shelf is filled with books about mind witches, and the feeling of being overwhelmed hits me again.

I’ve got a lot to learn.

“Start with the lighter stuff,” she murmurs, grabbing two books off the shelf, holding on to one herself while handing me the other.

I offer her a tight smile in thanks as we head to the closest table. It’s surprising how many people are actually in here. I even spy Helena and Danika a few tables over, but if they see me, they don’t acknowledge my presence. That’s no surprise.

Getting comfortable, I run my hand over the front cover, trying to push down the nerves that threaten to have me running for the door. It’s a weird position to be in. I’m new to all of this; the supernatural world, the academy, this entire way of life, and I’m caught in the middle. One part of me wants to learn everything, but the easier option is to turn for the hills and run until I can’t run anymore.

Anything in life that is hard is worth fighting for, Polaris.

I still. The words in my mind are familiar, but the voice is… foreign. I run the words over my tongue, the memory of them at the corner of my mind but drenched in darkness. I relent before I let it consume me, opting to take strength from the motivation the words hold instead of clinging to where I heard them.

Opening the book, I bypass the content page and skip straight to chapter one. ‘So you’re a mind witch’ is etched along the top, and I take a deep breath before diving into the words.

Many things in this world don’t make sense, and the abilities of a mind witch is one of them. The ability, the strength, the magic, it’s indescribable. Firstly, give yourself a pat on the back for being the most elite of witches. Yes, I said it. Feel it, breathe it, embody it. If you want to survive in this world, you can’t slack on confidence now.

As a mind witch, you will find yourself overpowered by your ability, which is why a coven will be your found family. To bear the pain, to contain the powers running through your veins, and to be able to translate it into strength, you must find those around you that will help tether you to the present.

Doing so may take time, which is why we’ve researched and documented helpful skills that will aid you until the time comes. But first, let’s distinguish what it is you are feeling and what kind of mind witch you are because, of course, life isn’t as simple as being a mind witch; there are different strengths under such a powerful umbrella.

I’m already overwhelmed. Maybe I should stop now and digest this. One glance at Bryony across the table tells me it’s a big fat no as she cocks a brow at me, and I dive back into the book.

Mind Witches.

Tarot. Psychic. Illusions.

You can either read the divine cards to understand someone’s future, feel the thoughts and actions of others as or before they happen, or you may be able to transition the world around you into an illusion of your choosing.

The first flash of your magic, likely overwhelming and all-consuming, will allow you to understand.

If you touch an object or item that belongs to another and feel or see a vision relating to that person, then you are a tarot mind witch. If you are overcome with an energy of intense negativity or positivity that may leave you delirious, weak, and breathless, then you are a psychic mind witch. If, however, you are so overcome with emotion that you can’t decipher between what’s real or not, then you are an illusions witch.

Leaning back in my seat, I stare up at the fake night sky, letting the knowledge take root.

“Psychic witch?” Bryony asks, tearing my gaze from the pretty stars to her, and I nod. “I thought so. You looked like you could barely stand and your head was going to explode,” she states with a little chuckle, and I hum along.

“That’s exactly what it felt like,” I admit, and she offers me a reassuring smile.

“Being a witch isn’t easy, Polaris, but it’s powerful, rewarding, and humbling all at once. You just have to get a handle on it.”

“I’m scared it will all be for nothing when I do,” I breathe, the words slipping past my lips before I can filter them.

Her hand reaches across the table, landing on mine, and she squeezes with comfort. “Let’s make sure that’s not the case then.”

I nod, closing the book as I stare at her. “I woke up in my room. The last thing I remember is pissing Foster off, but then… nothing,” I blurt, my face warming at the fact that I’m having to acknowledge just how damn vulnerable I am.

Her eyebrows furrow as her lips purse. “It’s definitely giving me vampire vibes,” she states, and I sigh. “Do you feel scared?”

“Weirdly, no,” I admit, and she nods.

“Definitely vampire vibes.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” I grumble, more to myself than anything, as she pulls her hand back.

“Maybe we should think about making you some sage and rue charms,” she suggests, and I frown.

“Wait, there's another preventative? I think I caught something about lavender earlier too, but it doesn’t seem real that there would be a way to stop this from happening,” I mutter, irritation prickling down my spine. She winces, but there’s no remorse in her eyes.

“Technically, yes, but it’s not pleasant, and the vampires make it nearly impossible to find any rue these days. Besides, it requires…” She shivers as her words taper off, and I shudder even though I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“No.”

Her eyebrows gather. “What.”

My hand slaps against my mouth, confusion twisting my gut tight as another bubble of refusal rises to the surface. “No sage and rue charms.”

“Why?” she asks hesitantly, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“I-I don’t know,” I admit, pressing at my temple, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. I have no idea where that came from or why. I’ve never even heard of it until now… right?

Bryony stands, pressing her hands against the table as she gazes intensely into my eyes. “Polaris, it’s definitely a fucking vampire thing because I swear on everything I am that compulsion made you say that.”

Fuck.