Page 31 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

31

LINCOLN

I rritation burns through my veins as I pace back and forth in front of my desk. I called a meeting a half hour ago and Wylder is still nowhere to be seen.

“He messaged saying he is on his way,” Tatum murmurs, trying to ease the tension in the air as he sits beside Asher on the sofa, but it’s futile. We’ve got big decisions to make and we’re wasting time waiting for him.

“From where? He’s taking his sweet-ass time,” I grind out as the sound of the door slamming shut in the distance rings out. A moment later I hear footsteps approaching, and the man in question appears in the cracked doorway. “Finally! Where have you been?” I snap, watching as he saunters into the room with a lazy grin on his lips. “And why the fuck are your knees wet?” I add, the wet patches undeniable, but the acknowledgment only makes his grin grow wider.

“You smell like her,” Asher bites through clenched teeth, his hands white-knuckling as he balls them up in his lap.

“Thank you,” he replies, preening as he relaxes back in his seat.

I snarl. “You left us waiting so you could get laid?” I grind out, and Tatum snickers.

“I would have done the same,” he states, and Wylder leans across Asher to hold his fist out to Tatum, who fist bumps him.

Fucking idiots.

Asher clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention before I can rip them all new assholes for being so unfocused right now. “How did she seem?” he asks, and Wylder grimaces.

“Mad at you,” I confirm, and Tatum nods in agreement while Asher curses under his breath. The despair is clear and bewildering all at once.

Sighing, I decide to wade in on the topic so I can bring it to an end, then we can focus on what actually matters right now. “She’ll get over it,” I grumble, leaning back against my desk, arms folded over my chest, and Asher cocks a brow at me.

“You’re so sure?”

I shrug, but before I can speak, Tatum interjects. “She came here when she needed help and we didn’t offer it to her.”

Shaking my head, I sigh. “She’s not a wolf, we don’t?—”

“Fuck that. She’s ours,” Wylder grinds out, and the room stills as we all turn to look at him. If the tightness on his face is anything to read, then it’s clear he means every single one of those words.

“Says who?” I ask, instantly regretting it as the three of them respond in sync.

“Me.”

“Me.”

“Me.”

My nostrils flare with irritation as Wylder leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he stares right at me. “That just leaves you, Linc. Then we can make it official.”

I scoff, my arms banding tighter as I try to disassociate with the idea of her—of Midnight—being mine. “I’m not saying it.” My words are firm and final, so why does my gut clench at the admission?

“Are you sure?” Tatum asks, cocking his head to the side as he stares at me, and I sigh again.

“I’m Alpha of this pack. What I say is final.” The lick of irritation at my own idiotic response burns deep.

Wylder snickers, but there’s no humor in his tone. “You’re having a tantrum. Do you want your pacifier or would you rather suck on your own dick?” he goads, and I rise from the desk in a flash.

“Fuck you.”

He shakes his head at me like I’m boring him. “I’ve already fucked my girl today, I’m good.”

“Wylder,” I warn, and he waves me off.

“It’s almost funny when you’re floundering,” he teases, and my eye starts to twitch as I fight to rein in my mood.

“I’m not floundering,” I bite out, and Asher sighs, clasping his hands on his knees as he gives me a pointed look.

“Are you going to get over yourself or not?” If I thought anyone might be on my side with this, it was him, but it seems he’s turned to thinking more with his dick like the other two.

“We can’t mix business with pleasure,” I declare, earning a confused look from each of them.

“And what business is that?” Tatum asks, scrubbing the back of his neck nervously, and I shrug, leaning back against the desk now that I hopefully have their full attention.

“The Crow’s offer.” My words hang in the air like an anvil, crashing over us and plunging us into unknown territory.

“You’re going to accept?” Wylder asks, glancing between Asher and I, but it’s Asher who nods.

“If we want the chalice.”

“And we think it can help with the curse?” Tatum clarifies, his face tight, but the hint of hope in his eyes is bright and it cuts through me.

“We either succeed with it or learn from their mistakes,” I offer, and the three of them nod in agreement.

We made a promise, not just to Tatum, but to each other. Ending the curse has to be possible, because all magic has a loophole and this will be no different, we just haven’t managed to find it yet. It’s both a blessing and a curse that The Crow knows what we desire. He can use it against us as he does so often, but he can also bring things to our attention. Because the reality is, the curse affects all of us.

For sure The Crow already passed his test of the blood kin curse, as have many of his men, but the allure of having more people to prey on if the curse is broken is more than appealing to him.

“And that somehow involves Polaris,” Tatum mutters, and I nod.

He mentioned it a little while ago, the need for an extra person—someone not in our world that we can trust, and the flash of understanding is clear in his eyes as I say it out loud.

“It does because we need a witch.”