Page 25 of Savage Desire

I reach out, stroking a loose curl behind her ear. “I’m an asshole. If I’ve ever given you any indication otherwise, that’s my bad, but I’m not always a good man, Little Witch. That’s not going to change. If you want sweet and comforting, that’s where Tatum comes in,” I offer, and she stares at me, soaking in every word I say. “But whatever I’m dealing with right now isn’t your issue, that’s all on me.” It’s not an apology, but… it’s something.

“It’s not?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing once again as I slowly shake my head.

“No, Polaris. Your issue is going to be keeping me out of your fucking pants.”

9

POLARIS

Entering the dining hall is always chaos, but with Wylder by my side, it’s even worse.

As we step over the threshold, the noise grows louder, and I stall, acutely aware of Wylder’s arm draped over my shoulders. I attempt to edge away from him, despite how much I like the feel of his arm around me, but the need to avoid being a spectacle to the room outweighs everything.

Veering toward the witches’ table, I don’t make it two steps before he hauls me back in close, his arm pulling tighter this time as he tucks me into his side, steering me in the opposite direction.

My pulse thunders in my ears as he maneuvers around the vampire table and heads straight for his spot among the wolves.

I don’t dare look, but I sense eyes are on us from every direction. But to my surprise, when I look up the length of the wolf table, I find Lincoln, Tatum, Asher, and Minnie distracted. The knowledge doesn’t fill me with hope since it feels as though the attention I’m garnering isn’t the good kind.

No.

Definitely the gossipy, drama kind.

Dammit.

That’s not what I need on top of everything else.

My steps slow, the need to run more prominent than ever, especially as we pass wolf after wolf. I feel like I'm prey about to be hunted, demolished, and fed to these predators.

Pressing my lips together in a thin line, I curl my fingers into fists, turning my knuckles white as panic sets in. “Wylder,” I murmur, peering up at him, and he shakes his head once, the movement stark and sharp, leaving no room for argument. I part my lips, ready to find the strength to protest and say more, when his eyes land on mine.

“We’re just eating lunch, Little Witch. There’s no reason to hide it,” he states, and I give him a pointed look.

“Except, I’m not a wolf and you’re luring me into the den,” I grumble, and he shrugs, his lips curling at the side in the most irritating way that makes my knees go weak.

“You’re here with me, Polaris. I would never let anything happen to you,” he breathes, tugging me in closer for a beat as I lose all rational thought.

Fuck.

Turning away from him, my eyes land on Minnie’s, who’s smile widens as she waves me closer. Her action draws attention from Tatum, Asher, and Lincoln, but it's the girl sitting across the table from them that leaves me a little more concerned.

Bianca.

She has yet to have a good thing to say about me, and the scathing look on her face confirms the fact that there’s going to be an issue with me being here. If Wylder spots it, he doesn’t acknowledge it as he pulls out the seat beside Minnie before turning to do the same to the chair on the left, which just so happens to be right in front of me.

His arm drops from my shoulders as he takes a seat, while I stand frozen in place, unable to move. His expectations are clear;he wants me to join him at the table, but it’s not as simple as that, and I don’t know why he can’t see it.

My gaze drifts across the room, and I lock eyes with Bryony in her usual spot at the witches’ table. I’m not surprised to see her eyes wide and brows almost touching her hairline as she gapes at me, making it known that my current actions are noticeable to the entire room.

I’m so screwed.

“Sit, Little Witch,” Wylder murmurs, and I shake my head, taking a second to tear my eyes away from Bryony before I finally glance at him. Every part of my body is telling me to run, but I'm locked in place. I know it, I feel it, but I can’t seem to bring myself to say it.

Saying it is admitting it, and admitting it is believing it, and I don’t want to believe it.

You don’t belong here, Polaris.

The words burn in my thoughts and my stomach churns.

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