Page 55 of Savage Desire

Tucking my hand into the sleeve of my sweater, I reveal my small pouch of sand as I read through the instructions. It seems simple enough. I don’t need any candles or extra items, just me, my sand, and the words. I just have to run the sand in a special way over the locked area and hope it works.

I rub my lips together nervously, turning toward the cabinet, and everyone moves back a step, giving me the space I need. My heart pulses in my ears, my nerves thrumming through my veins as I take a deep breath.

Reaching for a pinch of sand, I run the grains between my fingers, playing the words in my mind as I read them before I extend my hand, running the sand over the top of the cabinet. Swooping a circle, I replicate the pattern of the star engrained in the floor of Professor Juniper's room as I say the words out loud.

“Recludo. Resero. Resigno. Recludo. Resero. Resigno. Recludo. Resero. Resigno.”

The resounding click of the latch disengaging echoes around the room and I gape in disbelief, stumbling back a step with my sand pressed against my chest.

“That was impressive, Polaris,” Tatum murmurs, making the familiar pink tint come to my cheeks as I mutter my thanks, but I can’t tear my gaze from the cabinet.

Lincoln slips around me, his knuckles ghosting over the back of my hand as he passes, and I shiver from the contact, but it quickly morphs into apprehension when he opens the cabinet to reveal an organized row of documents. One of which has my name scrawled down the side.

Fuck.

He pulls it out and I inch closer to snap it out of his hands, but he’s quicker than me. I’m frozen in place, watching as he stands on the other side of the desk, eyes grazing over the information inside.

His lips purse and the desire to scream at him is unbearable by the time he finally speaks. “You actually fucking kissed that Terence guy?” he snaps, eyes burrowing further into the words as I gasp. “And you chose him on your birthday? What the fuck, Polaris?”

“How dare you,” I growl when his eyes meet mine, the look of disdain real. He doesn’t get to judge me, and he definitely doesn’t get to read through all of my private thoughts.

I charge at him, expecting him to run, but he turns to face me head on as I round the desk, shoving at his chest with all of my might. Of course he doesn’t budge. Instead, he dumps the folder on the desk with a thud.

“More than that, you thought it would be a good idea to die? To give up? Do you not want to try?”

I shove at his chest, again and again, fury burning deep inside of me as tears track down my face.

“Fuck you, Lincoln. Fuck you!”

Sadness, disbelief, and helplessness consume me.

It’s true. It’s all true. If he knows these things I’ve told no one other than my journal, then it’s all true. They’ve been spying on me and every word I’ve written. Every word, from the first day I received the journal, was all for them to see the parts of me I didn’t want to share.

I can’t see, my tears make it impossible, blurring my vision as I pound my hands against his chest repeatedly, but each hit grows more labored. My knees threaten to give out beneath me as Tatum’s voice snaps through the air.

“Everybody out.”

“Tatum,” Wylder breathes, but he’s quickly interrupted.

“I saidout.” His tone is lethal this time, and a second later, the force in front of me is gone and my hands fall to my sides, defeat clinging to my very bones. My chin drops to my chest as the door shutting vibrates through the room, and a moment later, there’s a hand on my cheek. “Polaris.”

My name is nothing more than a whisper on his lips, a blissful streak of sunshine through the clouds, but it does nothing to stop the emotions barreling through me at full force.

His thumb runs back and forth over my cheek, swiping across the tears, reminding me how real my breakdown is right now, when soft, feather-light kisses flutter over my face.

Over the tip of my nose, at the corner of my lips, along my cheekbone, over my chin, and down my throat.

He’s everywhere.

Every kiss breaks through the barrage of feelings that brim to the surface. I don’t know how much time passes, but I manage to pry my eyes open, blinking through unshed tears to find Tatum standing before me.

“It’s okay, Polaris,” he murmurs once my eyes latch on to his, and I shake my head. “Journaling gets me through the day, I have plenty of unused ones. Ones that can’t be tracked, and I definitely have one you would like,” he explains, and I hiccup through my tears.

“They have every word right there,” I rasp, and he cups my cheeks, keeping my eyes on his.

“If we could go back and change that, we would, but we can’t. All we can do is change the future. Don’t let them take this from you, Polaris. They’ve taken enough.” His lips trail over my skin again, from left to right, replacing every droplet of despair with a flicker of light.

Hope.

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