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POLARIS

I t’s warm. Really freaking warm.

I can feel sweat beading at my temples, making my hair stick to my head as my breaths fall in soft waves. My chest moves with each inhale, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. My limbs are no better. It almost feels like I’m floating on a cloud.

My eyes dart back and forth behind my eyelids, desperate to peek into the world and understand, but it’s impossible.

Murmurs echo around me, people talking in hushed tones, but I can’t understand a single word. The sound acts as a lullaby, sending me in and out of sleep.

Something isn’t right, that much is clear. Sleeping has never been my strongest ability, yet it claims me like a virtue, over and over again. Any attempt at pushing past the weight that pins me down is futile since my brain is little more than a foggy catastrophe.

Time drifts by in a warped manner, leaving me even more confused.

Sleep comes with darkness, thick drapes over nothingness welcoming me again and again, and as much as I’m sure my body needs it, I desperately need to open my eyes.

This time, when my mind rouses from the pits of bleakness, I feel more present, more alert, but the weight falling on my eyelids is still unbearable.

If they’re not going to open, I need to focus on another part of my body before I’m summoned back into the murky shadows of my mind. I start at my toes, wiggling them, or attempting to at least, but I fail miserably.

My breaths come a little faster now, frustration getting the better of me, and all of the fire burning inside, as dim as it may be, freezes when a hand lands on my arm.

Calloused fingers run over my skin as they grip my wrists, the warmth sizzling as they shift their position to sweep their thumb back and forth over my hand.

Someone’s here.

I’m not alone.

Despite being unaware of the who or how, I settle my thoughts on the why.

Why am I here? Where the hell am I?

Racking my mind, I try to recall the last thing I remember, when a daunting feeling washes over me. If I don’t remember anything, is it because of a vampire again… because of Blaze?

But the wolf’s bane…

It’s impossible to gulp the panic down, my throat is too dry for any of that. Instead, I work my way back through my memory to the last thing I remember.

Busy.

I remember it being insanely busy. People bustling around me like I didn’t exist, but I wasn’t alone…

I was with… a flash of Minnie’s smile appears in my mind, followed swiftly by Lincoln’s usual scowl, Asher’s attentive eyes, Wylder’s looming frame, and Tatum’s serene aura that blankets me every time I’m in his presence.

Is that who’s here with me now?

I calm with the thought.

I’m in safe hands, even if I don’t recall how I ended up here to begin with.

The last thing I specifically remember is entering a building with the five of them. Everything after that is as dark as the shadows I’m sleeping in. The mere thought of sleep has my body melting back into the mattress beneath me.

I push against the desire for sleep, but it’s inevitable as the thumb repeatedly sweeps back and forth across the back of my hand, lulling me further into slumber.

I swear I hear a voice, a whisper, a name, but the darkness claims me nonetheless.

Only this time, it’s not complete emptiness that greets me.

Instead, I’m drowning in two words I don’t understand.

Amica Mea.

It’s bright. Too bright.

My eyes squint, trying to see through the haze as a sterile white-washed room comes into view. A door faces directly across from me, the square piece of glass in the center offering no hint of what lies outside.

I run my tongue over my dry, rough lips as I scan the rest of the room. An empty cream chair sits to my right, a nurse’s station positioned against the wall behind it, with no inclination of where I am, but when I peer down at the length of myself, I quickly realize I’m not in a normal bed.

White sheets tuck me in, and my clothes are gone, replaced with a thin, striped garment.

Frowning, I shake my head in disbelief, but the motion instantly leaves me dizzy, so I focus on the left side of the room as my eyelids manage to open fully, adjusting to the lights.

Another chair sits to my left, only this one has a guest. A sleeping guest whose hand is wrapped around mine tightly, as if they have to make sure I am still here.

The gesture doesn’t surprise me, it’s the person behind it who does.

Gulping, I try to yank my hand from his grasp, but the movement quickly bolts his eyes open.

He scans the room, hand gripping me in a deathly hold until he realizes there’s no immediate danger.

His grasp softens as he turns to look at me, and the second he finds my gaze set on him, he pauses, fingers flexing once again.

“You’re awake.” His voice is thick and gravelly, and it does something to me, but I quickly wave it off, focusing on his mere presence.

“Blaze?” My voice is raspy, every sound tearing at my dry throat.

I don’t know what I expect from him, but what happens next wasn’t even on my list of possibilities.

His hold on my wrist falls away as he rises from the chair, limbs stretching for miles as he reaches behind him. A moment later, he’s standing in front of me with a glass of water in hand and a straw pointed in my direction.

I look from the tip of the straw to him and back again, confusion leaving me frozen in place, and he sighs.

“Drink, Polaris.” His voice may be soft, but it’s still gruff as he nudges the straw closer, and I reluctantly relent.

The liquid is refreshing and I quickly get carried away with myself, guzzling it down before he snatches the straw from my lips.

“You’re supposed to take sips, Amica Mea,” he exclaims, a hint of a chuckle in his words, and I glare at him.

“I was dying of a dry throat.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he places the glass on the small tray behind him before his eyes find mine again. “You were dying of an arrow to the chest, actually, but you’re on the mend now. You’re welcome.”

I frown. “I’m welcome?”

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

“I’m trying to figure out why the hell you think I have anything to thank you for.” His eyebrows gather, lips pursing as he assesses me, but before he can say a word, I continue. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I’m trying to remember a damn arrow in the first place, but I’m failing miserably.

This time he leans farther back when he takes his seat, steepling his fingers before him as he continues to stare me down. “There are plenty of questions to be asking right now, and they’re not all yours.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Blaze. I feel like death, I don’t know what’s going on, and the last person I want to be around is you. So please, fuck off.”

The left side of his mouth curls in a sultry grin as his eyes gleam. “We both know I like you feisty, Amica Mea.”

“No, we don’t, actually.” I roll my eyes at him, turning away as I manage to lift my hand to my face, attempting to wipe the stress away, but it does nothing to ease the weight of his presence.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to me or not?”

His face instantly darkens as he lifts his shoulder. “You’re going to have to ask them for the whole story, but the nurse says you were impaled by an arrow to the chest. You lost a lot of blood. A- fucking -lot. And because we’re… I was the only one who could help.”

I rub my lips together nervously, hating the way the dryness grates the tender flesh, but the anxiety I feel from his proximity is impossible to hide from.

An arrow to the chest?

Glancing down, the opening of the pin-striped garment falls to the side just enough to reveal a small patch of gauze secured to my skin. Cautiously, I lift my hand, tentatively pressing against the fabric, and I wince, quickly dropping my hand as I shudder from the spark of pain.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that,” Blaze offers, and I don’t even bother to glance in his direction.

“Thanks for stating the obvious, asshole.”

“Ah, so you do know how to show appreciation,” he retorts, and I can’t stop myself from snapping my deadly stare in his direction.

“Care to explain how, out of everyone in the whole entire world, you’re the only person who could help me?” A sickly feeling nestles in my stomach, promising me whatever is about to come out of his mouth isn’t going to be fun. What I don’t expect is the dismissive shrug.

Damn.

I should always expect the worst with this asshole.

“If you don’t have anything to say, you can leave,” I grumble, waving toward the door. I’m more likely to figure this crap out for myself. I don’t need him here, especially if he’s going to be as useless as this.

“I’m good,” he states, settling further in his seat. I’m half certain he’s going to close his eyes and go back to sleep again, but instead, he points a finger at my wrist. “Wolf’s bane.”

My gaze snaps to his, a hint of guilt threatening to consume me, but I quickly rebuke it. I have nothing to be guilty of. He started this… whatever this is, and I needed to protect myself. Despite how much my limbs ache, I square my shoulders as I nod. “Wolf’s bane.”

A nod, a whisper of his lips pursing, and he shakes his head. “How long?”

“If you’re not going to offer me anything, then neither am I,” I retort, silently proud of myself for standing my ground.

“I love it when you bargain with me, Amica Mea. What are we playing for?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I chide, not bothering to narrow it down because I’m referring to every single word he said. The bargaining, the nickname, the stakes… all of it.

“And if I’m willing to change that?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific because my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now,” I state, and he hides a grin behind his hand as he clears his throat.

“Tell me when you started using the wolf’s bane, and I’ll fill in the gaps for you.”

My head tilts as I narrow my eyes at him, trying to find a loophole to his offer, but I come up empty. Sighing, I toy with the item in question secured around my wrist. “After B came to my room.”

He nods, letting those words take root. “So you remember our kiss.” The flash of his heated lips on mine in a brief and intoxicating flicker of time consumes my thoughts and the telltale burn at my cheeks comes alive.

“I remember.”

“Nothing else before that?” he clarifies, and I shake my head as he presses his palms against the arms of the chair and rises to his feet.

“Nothing. I think it’s only fair that you let me remember the rest of it,” I insist, and he fails to wipe another smile from his lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this guy smile unless he’s causing me rage.

He leans closer, hands coming to my face, and I stiffen. “I can show you.”

“Show me?” I repeat, startled by the fact that he’s actually agreeing to this, and he nods.

“Why would you show me?” I breathe, regretting the words as soon as they leave my tongue, but instead of retreating or rethinking his offer, he only seems to draw closer so the tips of our noses are pressed together.

“Because you’re never going to fall for me otherwise.”