Page 34 of Savage Desire

Sian says something in a fit of rage before suddenly storming off, and Terence’s gaze whips around, bypassing me, and I can't stop myself from following his line of sight. Only to find him glaring at Lincoln. Turning his face in this direction offers a full visual of the state of his face and I gasp. His mouth is busted and swollen. His right eye is even worse. It’s beaten so badly that his eyelid looks fuzed shut. There’s a smattering of bruises lining cheek and jaw, leaving a sense of dread in my gut. The way he's holding himself, shoulders bunched together and his muscles stiff, leaves me scared to imagine what lies beneath his clothes.

Glancing between Terence and Lincoln, one offering deathly stares at the other while the latter pays no mind to the threat he seems to be under, my gut clenches tighter. Something tells me there's more to this situation with Terence than meets the eye.

I don't say a word as I leave the girls, hurrying toward him through the crowd with panic and concern coiling in my veins, but before I can reach him, he takes off deeper into the woods.

That's not going to stop me, though. I need to understand. I don’t know why, I just do.

“Terence,” I call out once the music dies down enough for me to be able to hear myself think.

He doesn't bother to turn around as he yells back. “Fuck off, P.”

Irritation claws inside me. “It's Polaris,” I snap, stumbling over a fallen tree trunk as I continue after him, moving farther and farther away from the party, but the music is still audible in the background so I know I’m still in the bubble.

He scoffs. “It’s P.”

Refusing to let his bullshit get in the way, I eliminate the remaining distance between us, grabbing onto his arm, and he thankfully stops in his tracks.

The light from the moon peeking through the trees is dimmer out here, but I can still see the marks on his face. “Who did this to you?” I ask, trying not to gape in horror at how awful it looks this close up.

He sneers at me. “You don't care, so stop pretending that you do,” he bites, shaking out of my hold. He continues to move, but I’m right behind him.

“Terence,” I call out, more insistently this time, and he laughs, a haunted, desperate laugh.

“You didn’t care about me back at Florentine’s, you don't care now, so fuck off.”

I rear back, his words catching me off guard, and he takes the opportunity to continue stomping off. I’m frozen in place, a defeated sigh parting my lips as I frown.

“I’m worried about you.” I blurt the words that don’t feel entirely right or true, but there's something that makes me say them.

He glances back over his shoulder, his teeth bared in restraint. “That's because I look like this because of you,” his snarls, disappearing from view in the next breath.

I blink at the darkness that remains, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“It's because of me?” I mutter to myself, trying to make sense of the situation when the sound of a branch snapping behind me interrupts my thoughts. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I freeze.

“He deserved it.”

I spin in the direction of the words, a mixture of surprise and horror coating my skin as I come face to face with what feels like the other piece to the puzzle.

Lincoln.

12

LINCOLN

She stares at me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she slowly pieces together the situation. I’m surprised it’s taking this long, to be honest. Although, a part of me wishes she wasn’t completing the puzzle at all.

Her lips purse before her jaw falls slack, and it’s like an alarm goes off above her head. There it is.

“He deserved it?” she repeats, pointing to the path that cunt took, and it takes everything in me not to beat him to a pulp again simply for being in her presence. “Did you do that?” she asks, eyes narrowed on me, and I shrug. “Lincoln.” My name is a warning on her tongue, and it stirs my cock.

Ignoring her disbelief, I tilt my head at her as my gaze runs over her body from head to toe and back again. “Don’t you think it’s strange that you still look like midnight to me even though your hair is pure silver?”

She shakes her head, immediately dismissing me as her hands slap down at her sides in frustration. “Lincoln, did you do that to him?” she repeats, but she’s not the only one that’s good at ignoring a conversation they don’t want to have.

Taking a step toward her, I catch the sharp intake of breath and the stiffening of her spine, but she doesn’t back away. “Atfirst, I thought your hair was the sky, your face the moon, and your eyes the stars.” My words hang in the air for a brief moment as she gapes at me, and I take the opportunity to step closer again. Like a predator approaching their prey. Biding my time, I stuff my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels as I assess her. “But now, I think your hair shimmers like the moon, your eyes sparkle like the stars, and your soul is the darkness drenching us in night.”

The truth of my words cut deeper than I want, but if she sees it, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

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