Page 18 of Savage Desire

“No…” she admits. “Worse.”

I freeze in place, panic clawing at me as I repeat the word back to her.

“Worse?”

She nods, lowering the bowl to the table before reluctantly meeting my stare.

“As a center, no coven will look to you to become a member,” she explains, making me gulp, even though that’s supposed to fill me with relief. It’s the way she’s shaking her head, but her words finalize it. “As a center, without a known lineage to an existing coven, you, Polaris Beauchamp, are a new beginning. A fresh start for a new coven.”

7

POLARIS

With my mind swirling from the new information Professor Juniper laid before me, I practically float from her office, gliding through the classroom and out into the hallway as the lesson draws to an end. Yet her parting words play on repeat in my mind.

“A Renegade is a Renegade, first. Always. No matter what they say otherwise.”

Does she mean Bryony? She clearly does, but in what sense?

I had said the same words myself after my whole incident with the Renegades, but Bryony had insisted that wasn't the case. As if sensing her name in my thoughts, my friend appears at my side, linking her arm through mine.

She smiles excitedly. “So, how did it go?” she asks, and I stare at her, dumb struck for a moment.

I’m overcome with the panic of what I should and shouldn’t say while trying to maneuver through the flood of students walking toward us, everyone heading to their next class. Thankfully, they play as the perfect distraction, giving me a few moments before we reach outside and I have to give an answer.

Her eyes fix on mine as the sea of bodies dwindles and I dig my hand into my pocket to reveal my little purple pouch of sand. “I have an endless supply of sand now,” I offer, and she grins.

“Nice, at least we know your magic is there now. Did you learn anything else? Have you learned your sector?” she continues giddily, and it takes everything in me not to freeze in place.

Her question jolts Juniper’s parting words back to the forefront of my mind, and my gut instinct takes over as I shake my head. “No,” I breathe, the lie rasping in my throat as I mentally tell myself that it's okay not to tell her this yet. Why, I don't know, but the mere thought of her coven has me putting an invisible wall between us.

“That's okay,” she insists, squeezing my arm with a sense of comfort as she tugs me along. “Maybe she will help you with that next time,” she states as the entrance to our next class comes into view.

“Maybe,” I repeat as we come to a stop at the back of the students already gathered for combat class.

Silence washes over us, but from the corner of my eye I can see her eyebrows gather and relax over and over again. It’s like watching her mind swirl with thoughts. She’s got a question, but not the strength to ask it. Her position is familiar; it sounds like me—like discomfort.

Whatever she wants to ask is bound to leave me twisted in knots, or that’s the sense I get for why she’s holding back. Either she’s torn because she cares, or perhaps she’s worried it may ruin the connection we have and that wouldn’t benefit the Renegades?

Fuck.

It seems my self-doubt and second-guessing has the ability to reach a whole new level.

She unlinks our arms as she takes a deep breath, turning to face me head on with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “Polaris,” she starts, and my gut clenches when a whirlwind separates us.

“The way you ran off the other night, I would have sworn you were a wolf, not a witch,” Minnie says with a cackle, half hugging me as she unknowingly curtails the moment between Bryony and I.

I’m silently thankful for it, but more than that, any concerns I had of how Minnie felt about me quickly slip away. It’s a relief, one that eases the tension in my shoulders that I didn’t know I was riddled with, but I still find myself blinking at her, muttering a poor attempt at an apology.

“I’m sorry about that. It was so nice for you to take me there, and I loved it. I did it and just didn’t expect?—”

“Ew, don't do that,” Minnie blurts, twisting her face in distaste as she squeezes my shoulder. “It should be me apologizing on behalf of my brother, but he's old enough to handle that shit all on his own. So, I’m being a big girl and waiting for him to acknowledge his own actions so he can apologize accordingly on his own behalf.”

I gape at her, my mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish a few times as I shake my head. “It was all me,” I insist, and her eyebrows crinkle again.

“Ew. No, just, no. We need to straighten your crown,” she states, standing toe to toe with me as she grabs both of my shoulders, forcing me to stand taller, before flicking at my chin, forcing me to hold my head high.

“My crown?” I asked, confused, and she nods.

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