Page 95 of Savage Desire

“Oh, I understand, Professor. Get the medics on standby, she’s going to need it,” Bianca muses, lifting her arms to her chest.

Drummond doesn’t say another word as she steps back off the mat and claps her hands, signaling for us to begin.

I nervously lift my hands to my chest too, focusing on my left arm being tight and my right hand higher, just like Wyldersaid, but neither of those actions can prepare me for the woman charging at me.

A battle cry parts her lips as she smashes her body into me, the wind leaving my lungs as my back smacks against the mat. A few audible gasps echo around the audience as I try to catch my breath, but it’s impossible. She comes in hot, swinging her fists toward my face as she pins me down, holding me in place. All I can do is shield my face with my arms.

She grunts and snaps above me, her onslaught relentless as I cower beneath her.

Blow after blow, I take it all, unable to move. My eyelids squeeze shut, trying to numb the pain of every hit she lands. When suddenly a burst of light flashes across the back of them.

The outside world disappears as a vision of a man comes into view. He has glasses perched on the edge of his nose and a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s okay, Polaris. You’re okay.”

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face as I sniffle.

“It’s not okay, Daddy. I’m a loser.”

His eyes darken with sadness as he shakes his head, running his thumb across my cheek. “You’re not a loser.”

“I am. I know I am. All I do is lose and fail,” I ramble, feeling an overwhelming rush of despair and helplessness.

“Sweet girl. It’s only ever failing if we’re not learning. You’re a force to be reckoned with when you choose to be, Polaris Beauchamp. Now tell me, are you a force right now or are you learning?”

His words hang in the air as I'm rushed back to the present with a swift punch to my skull. My hand must have slipped, but I quickly hide beneath my arm again.

My eyes open wide, the memory of those words, of his question, swirling around in my mind over and over again.

That wasn’t random, that was a memory. A memory of… my father.

“Are you a force right now or are you learning?”

Right now I’m learning, but I can be a force. I can be a fucking force.

My soul wants to shatter into a million tears at the first memory that floods my mind, but my pride, my strength, and my heart refuse to be anything less than the force he promised I can be.

I shift my hips, suddenly rocking her above me, and she falters, clearly surprised by the abrupt movement. I do it again, using more strength as I lean toward my right side this time. With a snarl, and every inch of power I can give, I topple us enough that she falls off me.

There’s no time to check if I’m okay as I lurch to my feet. The crowd is nothing more than a distant notion, my sole focus settling on Bianca, who is braced on her knees, fists white-knuckled and planted against the mat as she snarls at me. Her face is red with rage, her hair a mess from the brutal attack she’s been laying on me, but she’s ready to push on, I can see it in her eyes.

Fuck that.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with when you choose to be, Polaris Beauchamp.”

Channeling my father’s words, I charge toward her. She snickers at me, willing me to act. I can see the glimmer in her eyes, like she doesn’t think I’m capable. Neither did I, but that was then, and this is now.

I rear my fist back and she pushes up with her hands to rest on her haunches, goading me to try my best, but I keep my fists right where they are and lift my foot off the ground. With all the strength I have, I kick, making contact with her face. Her entirebody shifts and I watch as her eyes roll to the back of her head before she splays out on the floor, unmoving.

My heart races in my chest, disbelief clinging to me as cheers erupt through the crowd and Drummond announces me the winner. I should bask in the glory, take strength from her defeat, but instead, I step back, reaching for my bag in blind panic and make a run for it.

I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until I barrel into the closest girls’ bathroom, slamming the cubicle door shut behind me before I vomit.

I guess winning isn’t always as pretty and glorious as you imagine. But victory is victory nonetheless.

34

POLARIS

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