Page 93 of Savage Desire

I clear my throat. “I am, but I also think I need to change,” I admit, and she lifts her eyes to take me in.

“I think you might be right. You can either head back to your dorm or use the combat storage room,” she offers, pointing to a small building at the other end of the field.

“The combat storage room would be great. Thank you.”

She offers a nod in response and I take off in the direction she pointed, but when I make it halfway, she calls out my name again, making me pause to look back at her. “Don’t touch anything.”

My eyebrows gather in confusion. “I won’t,” I reply, hurrying the rest of the way so I can change before everyone else gets here.

As I approach the storage room, I realize it’s much smaller than I anticipated. It’s more like an outbuilding or a shed, but as long as there’s enough room for me to change, that’s all that matters.

Despite its rickety appearance, with boarded windows and loose tiles on the roof, the door is heavy steel with a few locking mechanisms along the side. Thankfully, the door sits slightly ajar so I can slip inside.

The air feels musty as I search for a light switch, but even as I turn it on, it does nothing to take away the eeriness of the space. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling and dust sheets cover most of the items in the room.

Professor Drummond doesn’t have to worry about me touching anything. If I can help it, I won’t be in here for more than thirty seconds.

A shiver runs down my spine as I close the door before quickly stuffing my hand into my pocket to retrieve a pinch of sand. Too afraid to close my eyes, I visualize the yoga pants, tank top, and black jacket in my wardrobe as I rub the sand between the pads of my finger and thumb.

“Vestis.”

I suck in a breath as I watch my cute jeans be replaced with the exact outfit I envisioned.

Pleased with myself, I place my pouch of sand in my bag since I’ve lost my convenient pocket and turn for the door. But just as I reach for the handle, something golden shimmers out of the corner of my eye, drawing my attention farther into the dingy room instead of outside where I want to be.

The gold disappears beneath the draped dust sheet, and despite my better judgment, I take a step toward it.

Get out. Get out. Get out.I chant wildly in my head, but my feet carry me in the opposite direction. Curiosity is about to kill this cat. My pulse thunders in my ears as I stop at the bulky items hidden beneath the dust sheets, the gold nestled right at the back, but that doesn’t seem to stop me.

Inching closer, I rise up on my tiptoes to lean over, desperate to touch it, but just as I’m a breath away, the door slams open, startling me.

I scream, hand flying to my chest as I whirl around to face whoever the hell is here. I spin on the spot, breath lodged in my throat, to find Wylder staring at me in confusion. “You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he replies, eyes knitting with confusion, and I shake my head.

“Scaring me.” I take a deep breath, followed by another and another, until I feel a little calmer.

“I didn’t mean to. Professor Drummond mentioned you were over here, and since I didn’t see you at breakfast, I came looking.”

“Maybe announce your arrival next time,” I grumble, finally dropping my hand from my chest, and he rolls his eyes at me.

“My girl is easily shaken. Noted. I’ll try better once I’ve had my fill.”

“Your fill?” I stare at him in confusion as he steps toward me, eliminating any space between us.

“I’m starved,” he murmurs, eyes locked on my lips.

“Did you not have breakfast either?”

“Oh, I had breakfast.”

“Then what?—”

“You, Little Witch. I’m starved for you.”

His lips crash into mine in the next breath, prying my lips open effortlessly as he feasts on me. I cling to his arms for balance, quickly pushing back for control. I fail miserably, but in the best way possible. His hands squeeze my hips, burning his fingerprints into my skin as I melt further into him, only for him to tear away from me a second later.

I blink up at him, unsure when my eyes even closed, and he runs a hand down his face. “Drummond is coming,” he mutters, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door.

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