Page 2 of Savage Desire

Pain.

Embarrassment.

Relief.

It could be any one of them. Likely all of them. I just can’t decipher it without having to revisit what the hell just happened back there.

I want to hide away and never look back.

I want to pretend none of it happened.

I want to go back to before.

But it doesn’t matter what I want. The damage has been done, the repercussions have taken their toll and I’m left to piece together who I am now.

My eyes clench shut once again, eager to rid my mind of the last few hours, but it’s undeniable, and I can’t continue to be so naïve. I can’t run from this place, I can’t run from who I am, I need to own the hell out of it, and that means accepting every little piece of me.

The good.

The bad.

The confusing.

As my head falls into my hands, I exhale and let my thoughts drift back to where everything started to crumble—the beginning of the end.

He fucked me. Lincoln fucked me despite the fact that I’m a virgin.

Iwas.

Not anymore.

The red streaks running down my legs from beneath my skirt can attest to that.

I thought we had a connection. I thought it was something, and maybe it was, until it wasn’t.

I can still hear the hollow sound of my coin hitting the ground, the noise pulsing in my ears despite the fireworks blasting in the distance. It’s like my world stopped spinning.

First, from the panic of dropping it, second, from the way he reached for it, and third, from the look of disdain he gave me.

If ever there was a description of a disaster, it would be this.

The embarrassment of everyone appearing out of nowhere as Lincoln held the coin up is overwhelming, made even more so by the way Tatum acknowledged the fact that I was bleeding.

I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and technically, it didn’t.

I should be describing the situation as getting better. Ishould, but… as I pry my eyes open, tilt my head back, and look at my bare wrists, I feel a sense of loss.

The loss of a precious item that belongs to my past?Maybe.

The loss of a reason to be powerless and weak because there was a sigil in place? Even more likely.

The loss of individuality now that I am a non-virgin witch with no coven? Jackpot.

I gave a piece of myself, something I can never get back, and received rejection in response. I don’t know why I expected anything different.

Maybe I shouldn’t have run. Maybe I should have stayed, explained, tried to understand their questioning over a damn coin that I’ve had for as long as I can remember, but I couldn’t.

Asher’s words swirl in my mind.

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