Page 15 of Savage Desire

“There is no competition,” I mutter when she turns back to me, shrugging slightly as we head inside.

“He doesn’t need to know that,” she states with a wink, and I roll my eyes.

“He doesn’t need to know anything,” I insist, coming to a stop at Professor Juniper’s door.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she calls out, and I roll my eyes at her.

I’m not doing this right now. I haven’t even officially made it to my first class and the drama has begun. This is why I stayed in my room yesterday. It’s safer there, but I need to learn.

“This drama is complete bullshit,” I retort, and she tilts her head, assessing me for a moment before she nods, exhaling slowly as she rolls her shoulders back.

“Let’s put a pin in that, but we will circle back around to the man drama you have going on. For now, you’re right, let’s shake it off because it’s time to get your witch on.”

6

POLARIS

Bryony all but shoves me through the door in a burst of excitement and I chuckle, stumbling over my feet as I spill into the room. I manage to catch myself before I fall, bracing myself on the closest table. My joy is quickly cut short as I feel all eyes on me, and the person behind the desk comes into view.

My heart stutters at the instant recognition.

The person who is the center of the Renegade coven.

The person who tried to force me to be tested against my wishes, trying to use power and her henchmen to get me to do things I did not want to do.

Lucille’s scowl is heavy, matching the one etched into the person behind her too. Parker, I think, one of her little minions in the Renegade coven, and my instant irritation at her proximity reminds me that one of my closest friends is a member of their coven.

Fuck.

I do my best to bite back the nerves and embarrassment as I stand tall, dusting my hands over my pants. My smile is weak, I’m certain of it, but I feel a small sense of pride as I find my seat at the front of the class with Danica and Helena.

I hear Bryony whispering an apology under her breath, but I don't turn around, refusing to draw any more attention to myself as Professor Juniper steps through the side door that must lead to her office. She situates herself behind the desk, glasses firmly in place with her hair swept back into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her blouse has a ditzy floral pattern all over it, and her skirt is a weird shade of orangey-brown. It’s weirding me out that she’s not sitting down and just… standing there.

She seems so soft, calm, and content, but I know all too well how quickly she can change. She gave me quite the showing of her mood swings when she learned of me refusing the Renegade coven.

Her eyes narrow on me as if sensing my thoughts as she rolls back on her heels. A beat passes before she looks over the class, and it feels like an eternity stretches between us before her eyes settle on the three newest additions from Florentine’s.

“By any chance, has anyone released their sigil?” she asks with a bored tone, making it clear she's expecting a chorus of dejection. As she predicts, Danica and Helena shake their heads while I run my tongue over my bottom lip, nervously and slowly raising my hand. It takes a moment for her to see it, her eyes latching onto mine as her jaw falls slack.

In lifting my hand, the sleeve of my jacket rolls down just enough to reveal the lack of bangles that no longer adorn my wrists.

Juniper gasps. “Oh, my…”

She suddenly whips into action, her movements almost frantic as she rushes around the desk, planting her hands on the table in front of me. Her mouth moves a few times before any words come out, and just when I'm certain something's completely wrong, her gaze leaves mine to latch on to someone behind me.

“Take over the class.” It’s an order, not a statement, but I don’t get long to process it as she rushes to grab my wrist, tugging me from my seat.

I try to cling to my desk in panic, but I’m too surprised to do anything as she tries to pull me toward the room she entered from. Horror floods my veins as I try to dig my heels in, encouraging her to stop, but it’s pointless. She’s a deranged woman on a mission.

“Let go of me,” I rasp, each word etched in panic.

She sighs, ignoring me as she shakes her head, not even bothering to look back as she continues to pull me along. “I’m helping you,” she finally states, still focused dead ahead, and I scoff.

“That's what everyone says,” I grumble, no stranger to circumstances like this.

I try to yank my arm out of her grasp, but she's stronger than she looks. Trying to use all of my strength, all I wind up doing is stumbling over my own feet. Again. Only this time, there’s no table to help catch my fall. Instead, I inadvertently give her what she wants and fall into the room, a jumble of limbs as she releases her hold on me.

Any hope I had of avoiding whatever fresh hell is about to befall me vanishes as the door slams shut behind me, drenching the room in darkness.

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