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POLARIS

S unlight streams through the window, waking me from my slumber as a comforting warmth surrounds me.

I don’t remember falling asleep.

I don’t remember waking up a million times through the night.

I don’t remember overthinking every little thing that’s happening in my life.

Nothing.

I try to stretch out, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s impossible with the body wrapped around me from behind. I know from the scent alone that it’s Asher, and I instinctively lean deeper into his embrace.

I let my eyelids fall closed again as I sigh, letting the memories of last night flood my thoughts.

Asher wasn’t kidding when he offered to help me focus.

He worked with me on my magic for hours—more than just hours.

It felt like an eternity. He never grew impatient; he offered guidance where he thought he might be of assistance, but otherwise, he just let me figure things out on my own.

It was… breathtaking.

At some point, Bryony brought us food, helping us push through, but we didn’t stop until it was dark outside and my mind felt disconnected from reality.

Every moment in his presence was a dance filled with sexual tension.

Lingering glances, gentle touches, and the charged atmosphere around us had me hooked on it all.

I wanted to end the night with him inside me, but the moment we laid down in my bed, I was out.

Fast asleep.

Damn.

Just thinking about it makes my cheeks flush. His attention, paired with my determination to learn, has left me feeling empowered. We began at the front of my Grimoire, turning the pages until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

He was incredibly helpful and selfless, and for the first time in maybe ever, I felt like someone’s priority—not just because of what they might want from me, but because they genuinely want to see me shine.

I squeeze his arm around my waist, running my thumb across his forearm, and he doesn’t move an inch.

I need to get up, though. I have to get my thoughts out, but I can’t do that while I’m locked in his embrace. It takes a few moments of wiggling as I quietly slip away from him, but I don’t go far. I simply prop myself against the headboard and glance down at him.

His hair is messy, yet his eyelids stay closed, as sleep still claims him. It’s nice to see the guy who is always riddled with tension be at peace, even if just for a few moments.

Smiling, I can't help but wonder if this could really be something after what they said last night. I don’t want to get my hopes up, especially since our lives still hang in the balance of time, but it has definitely left me intrigued, curious, and excited.

Reaching for my diary on the nightstand, I can’t resist pulling out a pen and opening the Tatum-issued journal to the next blank page to write down my thoughts.

Dear Diary,

The wolves aren’t crazy about the vampire, which is certainly not a surprise, but there’s something there. I’m not sure what yet because I don’t know what I’m looking for it to be, but the fact that there are now three coins in the mix makes everything feel different.

I wonder how many coins there were to begin with. Was there just one for each of her men, or could there be more?

There's a lot we don’t know, but I think I’m ready to explore it. Maybe trusting them won’t be so bad. After all, the chalice might have something to tell us.

But with the chalice comes The Crow. Does bringing it here lock me into an agreement I can’t refuse? Either way, it could provide us answers that we’re not yet privy to.

All I know for sure is I'm done being na?ve now.

Perhaps this agreement with the wolves and the uncertainty with Blaze could lead to a positive outcome.

Regardless, I feel empowered and strong, like I’m going to take charge today.

Polaris x

My chest feels warm with a lightness I’m not very familiar with as I place my diary back on my nightstand. Just as I turn to look at Asher, he grunts beside me, and I frown.

The guy that was asleep and serene just a minute ago is now riddled with tension.

His shoulders are bunched together, his jaw locked tight as his nostrils flare.

His fingers wrap around the sheets, distress becoming clearer with every second as he whimpers.

The sound doesn't last long, turning to a bark of anger before quickly dwindling back down to a plea.

“Please, please stop,” he rasps, and panic surges inside of me as I gape at him helplessly, desperate to ease his pain.

Shuffling in my spot, I rise up on my knees, leaning toward him as I try to figure out what the hell I should do. I place my left hand on his shoulder and he starts to thrash beneath the sheets, tangling himself up as his pleas get louder.

An intense pain sears through my mind, leaving me dizzy, lightheaded, and overwhelmed by feelings I’ve experienced before.

Fuck, it's happening again.

I groan, my face throbbing as I struggle to breathe. Barely able to lift my head, I lean toward the nightstand, searching for my pouch of sand. My vision is blurred, making the task challenging, but I eventually feel the velvet against my fingertips and delve inside, filling my palm with sand.

I try to remember exactly what I learned in my lesson as I lean back toward Asher, who continues to flail around.

I balance myself with my hand on his shoulder as I finally let my eyelids fall closed, the muttered words from my grimoire parting my lips.

But this time, it’s not a vision of him or a silhouette of a color revealing what he’s feeling that greets me.

Instead, what I see is, what I can only assume, what he’s seeing.

A different kind of pain radiates through my body. Bumps, fists, and kicks—a beating, if that word even suffices. Darkness, despair, and agony consume me completely, and one thing that remains present is a mask with an elongated nose and a sinister cackle that hurts my soul more than anything else.

The Crow.

Nothing about this is pleasant. I can't pinpoint any of it. It's all a flash of scenes, but each is viewed from behind arms locked over my face, shielding me from what I seem to know is coming. Blow after blow, every angle, every limb, all aching from the cruelty and devastation.

The nose of The Crow’s mask comes into view, but this time it gets closer and closer until Asher jolts, moving me along with him. I pull my hand away from him, but it’s a bit too late as he reacts, landing a powerful hit that sends me flying across the room.

I grunt as my back hits the floor. Thankfully, I’m not winded, just shaken as I press my hand to my chest. My gaze immediately darts across the room to where Asher sits on the bed, gaping at me with wild eyes.

“Oh, Silver, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” he stammers, jumping off the bed and sinking to his knees in front of me a moment later.

“No, it's okay. I shouldn't have intruded like that. I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry,” I mumble, acutely aware that I’m over-apologizing, but the look of despair in his eyes reflects his fear for me, and I need him to know it’s not warranted.

He tentatively extends his hand, and the second I place my palm against his, he maneuvers me so that I’m on my knees. The two of us sit face to face, a mirror image of each other as our chests heave with every synchronous breath.

I’m uncertain how much time passes before he lifts his hand to my face, cupping my cheek as his stormy blue and green eyes pierce into my soul.

“I’m not sure what happened,” he murmurs, and I do my best to give him a reassuring smile as my heart races wildly in my chest.

“It's okay. You were just?—”

“You look pale. Are you alright?” he interrupts, lifting his hand from my cheek to my forehead to check my temperature. The more alert he becomes, the more understanding spreads across his features. “I recognize that look in your eyes, Silver. What’s happening?”

I clear my throat, unsure how to explain, but he deserves the truth. “I just… it was… I started to feel dizzy, like…”

“From my energy?” he asks when I can’t quite place it, and I nod.

“I grabbed my sand, but when I closed my eyes to try to focus…” My words fail me again, but he thankfully shows me more patience as I gather my thoughts. I feel as though I’m intruding on something that wasn’t meant for me. I don’t want to make him upset, not after the night we just had.

As if sensing the panic within me, he curls a lock of hair behind my ear as he speaks. “It’s okay, Silver. Whatever it is, it’s okay,” he breathes, soothing me as if I’m the one who was trapped in that torture.

I shake my head. “I didn't see your aura when I closed my eyes like we practiced last night,” I begin, watching his brows furrow. My throat grows even drier, but I summon the courage to blurt it out. “I saw what you were seeing.”

His body becomes rigid, his hand pausing at my cheek as his eyes widen and true understanding dawns. I’m not the only one looking pale now. As I watch the color drain from his face, I nervously rub my lips together and gulp.

Panic burns in my throat as I scramble to explain, visibly watching him retreat into himself. “It was like flashes of pain, despair, terror, and more emotions than I can name. But I saw The Crow, too.”

His hands drop away from me as he rises to his feet, chin to his chest as he avoids my gaze.

It almost looks like he’s sinking in defeat, but the tension veins wrapped around his arms, leading to his clenched fists, shows the emotions he’s trying to contain.

“I’m sorry you had to bear witness to that,” he mutters, turning away from me, and as much as I want to bask in the sight of his ass in just his boxers, the distance he’s adding between us keeps worry thrumming through my veins.

The weight I see resting on his shoulders breaks my heart, so despite my inner struggle to stay quiet, I rise to my feet.

“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” I fidget with the hem of the oversized t-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh.

He doesn’t respond as he reaches for his pants, indicating that I’ve struck a nerve, but I press on. “It was a memory, wasn't it?”

His shoulders bunch closer together as his fists tighten around the fabric in his hands. He keeps his back to me, so I clear my throat and wrap my arms around my middle.

“I’m sorry. Asher.”

He spins around as his gaze snaps to mine, wild and furious. “I don't want your sympathy,” he snaps, and I shake my head.

“You don't have it,” I reply honestly. He frowns and turns to face me fully, as if he’s seeking more of an explanation.

So that’s what I provide. “I know what it’s like for people to look at you strangely, as if it’s sad to even see you because they know what you’ve been through. That's not what this is.”

His hand relaxes, causing his pants to drop to the floor as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Then what is it?”

My heart aches. I’ve never seen this man appear so vulnerable, and I think it only worsens with the acknowledgment that he’s exposing this side to me. “Understanding, awe, pride,” I rattle off, ready to throw a thousand words at him, but the first three seem to overwhelm him enough for me to pause.

His brows bunch together. “Pride?” he repeats, disbelief in his tone.

I shrug. “Yes, pride. Just the fact that you’re still here fighting…” I say. The tension in his jaw eases slightly, but the uncertainty remains.

“It doesn't usually feel like fighting,” he admits as I try to offer a warm smile.

“That's because it's a natural two-step dance routine for you at this point: fighting and surviving. When it’s all you know, you do it without even realizing.”

He tilts his head at me. “Is that what you're doing?”

I feel the familiar heat ghost my cheeks as I shrug. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” he repeats, and I nod. “How only mostly?” he presses, and I let out a long breath. Sharing the truth hurts, but in the sweetest way possible.

“Because then I came here,” I admit, and his lips twist as he continues to stare down at me, clearly aware that there's still a bit more to the truth. So, I share a piece of my own vulnerability. “And because I finally feel like I'm on the brink of living.”