Page 38 of Savage Hope

16

POLARIS

Iwas wrong.

There is something I could lose…my damn hearing. How is it possible to be out in the woods, a stone’s throw from where I was earlier, hiding out from the world, yet feel like I'm in the pits of some music mosh pit or something?

There are bodies everywhere.

The music is loud, I can barely hear myself think, but I quickly learned that it's all part of some crazy magical mirage created by the witches to soundproof the area. You wouldn't know by looking, but Bryony explained it’s from the sand drawn around the perimeter. And she was right. Before I stepped through the entry point, I didn't hear a thing. It was only when we crossed over the threshold that everything changed.

Follow the sand.

That's what she said to me yesterday. Now, seeing it in this form makes it clear what she meant when she said it. Following the sand will lead you to the witches, not just the witches’ dorm, as I'd initially assumed.

Barely over the threshold, the music thumps around us, the ground shaking from the base as I gape at the array of bodies dancing, laughing, singing, and screaming. What holdsmy attention most is the fact that I can clearly see factions mingling amongst each other. There are no wolves in one corner and vampires in another. People I recognize dance together in the center of the space as if factions don’t exist. It’s not an impossible thought either; I didn’t know they existed until yesterday. If I hadn’t seen it for myself today, how it’s a faction-eat-faction world here, I wouldn’t believe it. Yet, humans, witches, wolves, and vampires are all willingly together.

I don't see Blaze in the mix, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here. Hopefully, my black hair will deter him from me altogether.

Turning to Bryony, I clear my throat. “I thought everyone hated each other?” I shout over the music, and Bryony shrugs as she follows my line of sight.

“They do,” she hollers back, making me frown.

“But I thought factions don’t mix?” I retort, intrigued, but all she does is shrug again.

“They don't,” she offers, but this time, she looks at me, and I raise my eyebrows. Thankfully, it encourages her to provide a little more explanation. She leans in so she doesn’t have to shout so loud and murmurs in my ear. “A full moon wolf party is different. What happens at a full moon wolf party stays at a full moon wolf party,” she says with a grin on her face as she leans back.

“If you say so,” I murmur, more to myself than anything. I’m almost sure she didn’t hear me, but the wink she offers confirms that she did.

Tilting my face at her, I can't help but question her more. “That looks like experience in your eyes.”

She taps her nose, the same sign she used earlier to declare she won’t spill any more details. “It stays at the full moon wolf party, remember?” She smirks before pointing off to the side. “Now, let's get a drink, and then we're dancing,” she insists,wrapping her fingers around my arm and tugging me around the perimeter.

Any chance of refusal dies on my lips as the energy that booms around us seeps into my bones. I'm too intrigued and curious to leave now. That doesn't mean I have to partake. I need to talk her out of dancing, but being here, in general, doesn't seem too much of an issue.

Yet.

A corner of the space is set up with an array of drinks behind it. Neon lights curl to spell out the word “bar” in bright blue, followed by “free drinks” in hot pink.

I let Bryony do the ordering before she hands me a brown bottle. My nose crinkles instantly as I bring it to my nose, not appreciating the smell.

“What is that?”

“Beer,” she states, a hint of confusion in her tone, and my nose crinkles further. “Wait, you haven’t even had a beer?” The question is evident in her statement, and her jaw falls slack. I shake my head, looking down the neck of the bottle at the brown concoction inside.

“Not even a beer,” I clarify before I can bring the bottle to my lips. She rips it from my hand before I can dare taste it, scowling at the bottle as though it’s offended her.

“You're right. That definitely can't be the first alcoholic drink you ever taste.” She turns back to the guy behind the bar, and his eyes are already settled on me.

“First drink?” he repeats, clearly having heard our conversation, and I can feel my cheeks heat. I’ve never been more grateful for poor lighting in hopes that it hides my embarrassment.

He stares at me expectantly, waiting for confirmation, but I’m too locked onto his hazel eyes. They swirl with grit and fire, pain and fury, yet the softness he offers me feels almostunnatural. His blond hair is cropped, almost all the way, and his bulky frame is overwhelming. I’m not sure if his muscles have muscles, but the way his sleeves dig into his biceps only seems to confirm my suspicions.

Suddenly remembering that he’s waiting for an answer, I feel my cheeks burn so much I’m sure they’re going to burst into flames, so I quickly find his gaze and nod.

“Yes,” I admit, already hating myself for the single word response, but he smiles at me. It’s so short I could have imagined it, but the words that follow are more reassuring than they should be.

“Don't worry, I've got you,” he says, his eyes darkening just a touch before he turns around to run his gaze over the bottles behind him. After a few seconds, he reaches for one high up. I watch him break the seal, twisting the cap and grabbing a tiny glass before pouring the liquid into it.

---