Page 39 of Savage Desire

“A distraction from what?” I ask, aware I’m likely overstepping boundaries, but if he gets to see me vulnerable, then I’m chasing the same from him.

“Parties aren’t really my thing, but my wolf is always desperate to be as close as possible to nature when the full moon is high,” he offers, a snippet of himself that I soak in.

I was worried after he came to my room the other day and we both declared we didn’t trust each other that we wouldn’t share pieces of ourselves again, but here we are, trying, just like we promised.

“It seems like a fitting place to distract yourself,” I answer, a soft smile curling his lips as he nods in agreement.

“Hopefully it can be the same for you too,” he offers, slowly turning the pad in my direction.

I sense the shift in his demeanor as he does, the tension palpable, coming off him in waves, but it doesn’t penetrate my skin. Instead, the sight of his drawing steals my breath, leaving my face heating and pulsing with every thump of my heartbeat.

It’s a girl, standing at the shore, water rippling at her feet as she stares out at the world. Long, floaty hair dances behind her, only a side profile offering a glimpse of her soft facial features.

She looks alone, scared, but curious as the dark night air dances around her, only the moon basking the page in light.

She looks like… me.

I’m standing in the emptiness, lost and alone. He's captured exactly how I feel when I talk to him and try to explain myself, drawing every emotion as if he understands. I've never seen myself more than I do in this moment, not in my whole entire life.

“She’s beautiful,” I breathe, raspier than expected, my throat clouding with emotion.

“You are,” he states, cementing the fact that it’s me on the paper, and I scoff, giving him a pointed look as I turn away from the art.

“I’m a mess.”

He shrugs. “We’re all a mess. That's life.” He says it so casually, like it’s okay for me to be as broken as I feel.

I look up at him, searching for answers I don't know the questions to. Again. His eyes delve deep into my own, searching for my soul.

Two of his friends have fucked me today.

Two.

Deep inside me like no one else has ever been.

He should be judging me. Instead, he's looking at me like I’m… special. He inches closer and I feel myself drawn to him in the same way.

Why should I be ashamed? Why shouldn’t I just feel whatever I want to feel for whoever I want to feel it for? A boost of confidence floods my veins, but before I can truly acknowledge what's going on, his lips are against mine, soft, gentle, just like mine are when they press against his cheek. But this is different. It’s raw, sad, real. It steals my breath, or what’s left of it after the portrait of me worked so well, and tingles spread through my veins.

He retreats before it can get any deeper, but I still feel unstable, air whooshing from my lungs as my body trembles from the connection.

He offers me a soft smile. One that doesn’t waver, even as his next words bleed into the air. “You smell like Lincoln.”

I rear back, disappointment flashing through my mind as I drop my gaze, shaking my head. I’m at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, apologizing, not for the fact that I did what I did with Lincoln, but because I don't want it to affect the gentleness I have with the man beside me.

“Don't be,” he insists, reaching for my hand. His thumb strokes over my knuckles in comfort and a warmth blossoms in my chest. “Let's get you home, Polaris. We don’t want you out here when it’s time for the wolves to run,” he breathes, stuffing his belongings into the backpack I didn't realize was beside him. He rises to his feet a moment later, offering me his hand.

I look up at him as lost as ever. My lips puffy from the kisses I’ve received today. Placing my hand in his, he pulls me to his side and through the maze of hedges as we step back into the real world, leaving our bubble behind.

Darkness seems to swarm us more as we step out of the moon party barrier, taking the pathway toward the dorms, hand in hand, silence offering us comfort as we head toward the looming buildings in the distance.

Bronze, silver, gold, onyx.

They stand stark in the night sky, a beacon among the chaos.

It’s hard to explain, but I feel more self conscious in this moment, simply holding Tatum’s hand, than I did the night I lost my virginity. How is that possible? Maybe something is wrong with me.

As we near the fork in the road that leads to the different dorms, he wordlessly steps onto the sand beside me as we make our way to the witches’ building.

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