Page 16 of Savage Desire

Disoriented in the pitch-black, an eeriness washes over me, leaving my heart rapidly pounding in my chest as concern and panic claws at my throat.

Righting myself, I scramble to my feet and press my back against the door, blindly searching for the handle, but I can't find one.

I’m trapped. Locked away against my wishes, but if I want to get out of here I need to calm the hell down.

“What now?” I ask in the calmest voice I can muster, gulping around the worry that threatens to overcome me.

“Now, we learn,” she states boldly. The resonating sound of her snapping her fingers echoes around the room, and a moment later, the entire space is glowing.

Literallyglowing.

Candles line the walls, high, low, and everywhere in between. Some hang from the ceiling, others are piled up high on top of bookshelves, while others are scattered across the floor.

Flames flicker in every direction, dancing to a tune I can’t hear even though the room is still.

I frown, head tilting as I look at the closest candle. The movement is hypnotic, putting me under a spell that feels… familiar. It’s almost a reminder of something, but the harder I strain, the more my eyes narrow so tight they hurt, the more distant the memory flows.

Blinking, I break the spell I’m under, the wisps of my past fluttering into nothing. It takes a second for me to remember the actual circumstances I’m under, but when I do, I focus on everything beyond the flickering light.

I clear my throat, taking in the rest of the room as I try to think about how the hell I’m going to get out of here. The walls are black, with a giant golden bird painted on the one to my left. To my right, bookcases line the entire wall, and at the far end of the room are shelves holding trinkets that practically hang from every inch of surface by just a thread. But what draws my attention the most are the markings on the floor.

The floor is just as black as the walls, but the pretty golden bird adorning the latter is replaced by a grey engraving that looks like layers and layers of sand pressed into the floor, as if it has been repeatedly walked on until it became part of the stone.

It's a circle, covering most of the center of the room, with a star drawn inside. The symbol leaves me both curious and concerned. Gulping, I force myself to look at Juniper.

She fumbles with the trinkets at the far end of the room, giving me a moment to catch my breath—or drawing out my impending doom—either way, it offers me a moment of clarity.

“Have you tried anything yet?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me, but she doesn't stare long enough for our eyes to meet.

I clear my throat again, shrugging even though she can’t see. “I did, with Bryony, but…” My words trail off as she freezes, returning her gaze to me.

“It didn't work,” she states, completing my sentence, and I shake my head. She presses her lips together, nodding as her eyebrows furrow. “Did you figure out why?” she asks, and I shrug again.

“She mentioned maybe a lack of sleep,” I mumble, completely out of my element and slightly unsure why I’m telling her anything at all.

Her eyes turn inquisitive as she purses her lips, a flicker of a recollection passing through her gaze, but it's gone too quickly for me to pinpoint it.

As she turns away, there's something about it that leaves me confused. I take a step toward her, mouth open and ready to ask, but she quickly turns again, giving me a pointed look as she interrupts my train of thought.

“Where's your sand?” she asks, and I quickly pull the small pouch from my pocket. She nods approvingly. “The first thing we need to do is ensure you have an endless supply,” she explains, waving me closer.

I move toward her, but only make it two steps before I come to a stop at the outline of the markings on the floor. I should be heading in the opposite direction, but I find myself drawn closerto her. I want to say it’s not my fault, but it’s my curiosity that leads the way, right up to the marking, but I can’t seem to step over the threshold. Thick panic locks me in place.

As if sensing my emotional turmoil, Professor Juniper offers me a soft smile. “You're okay to stand in the circle of magic, Polaris. You are a witch, after all.”

“The circle of magic?” I ask, hating how dumb I sound as she only smiles wider.

“The circle of magic, Polaris, is where a witch finds her greatest creations. But right now, it’s not active. It’s simply prepared and ready, a part of who I am, a part of this room. I promise you, stepping into it with no candles lighting the perimeter, or a fresh layer of sand scattered at the edges, makes it perfectly safe.”

I file that knowledge away for later, certain I’ll need it at one point or another. For now, I swallow back my nerves and when I step over the marking, nothing dramatic happens and I continue cutting the distance between us.

“Sand is paramount to a witch’s ability, so an endless source is necessary,” she states, nodding at the pouch in my hand. She places a similar pouch in her hand too, only, instead of purple velvet, her’s is a rich, emerald green.

Her eyes widen as she silently encourages me to replicate her actions. She loosens the fastening on her pouch and I do the same. When Juniper dips her finger inside, swirling the grains of sand, I follow suit, just as I had done the other night.

“Repeat after me, Polaris,” she murmurs, gaze locked on her pouch, and my body ripples with apprehension. “Jugis. Perpes. Proprius. Constans. Perennis.”

My eyes widen, her choice of words weighing heavily at the back of my tongue as I think them, entirely unready to speak them, but instead of allowing the panic to get the better of me, I take a deep breath and do it anyway.

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