Page 33 of Savage Hope

“Never run.”

Two words, one familiar voice. Yet it does not comfort me; instead, it causes me to fight back an eye roll.

“Thank you for your insight, Lincoln, but you can't give an answer based on someone you don't know. Do you have a sigil in place? Have you just found out that you're a witch?” The professor blasts him with questions but gives him no opportunity to answer as I sink into my seat, hoping no one can see me. “You haven't walked a single day in her shoes. You can't determine her actions any more than she can determine yours. If I were to ask you what you would do if you were under attack from a vampire, I’m sure we all know you would use the highest offensive weapon you have against them and defend your pack. Is that good to assume, Lincoln?”

‘Mr. Hot wolf, and he knows it,’ has a name, it seems. Lincoln. But I don’t get time to appreciate it as he scoffs in response to Professor Green’s onslaught.

“Pretty much,” he states, his tone far too husky for a guy that was just draped in half the female population of the class.

I am not attracted to him. I am not attracted to him. I am not…I’m a liar.

“But I guess that’s more because I’m a wolf, and wolves don't run, not from anything,” he states, and the burning sensation at the back of my head is definitely coming from him this time as my cheeks heat under the pressure.

Thanks, asshole.

His ego is back in full force, ready to rival Blaze’s. I don't need any of this.

Biting back a sigh at the public embarrassment that has clung to me since the moment I left the witches’ dorm this morning, I jolt as a hand curls around my arm, tugging my attention to my right, where I find Bryony looking at me. “Don't let him get to you. Don't letanyof them get to you. You're right with your answer. All we have to do is get you to blend in with the witches and the other factions will pay no mind, I promise. The factions don’t mix.” Her words are firm, and I can’t decide who she’s trying to convince more, me or herself. I also can’t decide why she cares, but that’s not for me to figure out right now.

“They don’t?” I clarify, like what she’s saying makes sense, but when she shakes her head sharply, understanding washes over me.

“No, Polaris. Factions don't mix. Ever. And the quicker we get that target off your back, why ever the fuck it’s there, the quicker we can get to teaching you about being a witch.”

I offer a tight smile, falling back in my seat as the professor continues to speak. The swirling sensation in my gut is a mixture of emotions I can’t decipher, but all I truly know is that I amrelieved at the prospect of not being on their radar. Since the factions don’t mix, the prospect of there already being a line drawn between me and so many people leaves a heavy pit in my stomach.

I should have known the moment I walked in that Lincoln was out of my league. Hearing his interjection just now only confirms it. I'm a witch, and it seems the vampires and the wolves don't think too highly of me for that fact alone.

The truth cuts through the hope that threatened to take root, and I quickly build my walls back up, isolating myself from the outside world once again.

It’s safer in here. It always is.

14

POLARIS

The rest of the morning rolls into a blur of new surroundings, new textbooks, and new classrooms for every lesson. It's weird, no longer being caged to just the same familiar walls, and despite how overwhelming it feels, I want nothing more than to soak it all in. There have been no more deathly stares cast my way or what feels like public humiliation, but that’s likely because I had classes specifically for witches, so there was no opportunity for it.

Bryony is right at my side as we stroll into the dining room and my anxiety instantly kicks up a notch. My eyes dart around the room, seeking out any threats, but I come up empty-handed as Bryony tugs at my arm.

“Let's get a drink first,” she states, and I frown, spying the water bottles already on the tables. “I don't want water,” she insists as if sensing my thoughts, then she guides me to the right, where there's a drink station set up.

I watch as she fills a glass with a fizzy orange concoction and I follow suit, nervously filling my glass halfway in case it’s gross. We head toward the same table as this morning, and I decide to keep my head down as we breeze past the vampire table. Settling into the seat beside Bryony, I take a tiny sip frommy cup and hum in delight at the burst of orange that dances over my tongue. My eyelids fall to half-mast as I shiver at the deliciousness, but I quickly place the glass on the table so I don’t proceed to make a fool out of myself.

I wonder how many people here have drank this stuff a million times. I wonder if they remember their first sip. I know I will for the rest of my life.

Turning my attention to the selection of food spread out on the table, I rub my lips together as I consider my options. It feels much harder than it was this morning when it was just breakfast foods to choose from. Now, there are various meats and accompaniments, carbohydrates, and vegetables, all with little labels. There are some that I’ve never heard of, nevermind tasted, but I shake off the uncertainty and reach for a plain chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. I fill my plate with a small portion in case I don’t like it, but the moment the mashed potatoes hit my tongue, I groan.

I need to stop embarrassing myself.

Keeping my gaze fixed on my plate, I will the heat in my cheeks to subside as my mind swirls with endless questions and wonder.

How am I ever supposed to be prepared for this change?

How am I supposed to ever fit in quickly, like I’ve been here the entire time?

How am I supposed to catch up?

How am I supposed to survive a single day, never mind the blood kin curse?

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