Page 49 of Savage Desire

I want to earn it, deserve it.

Maybe tomorrow is the day. But what if it’s not? What then?

Do I give up? The way my stomach clenches tells me I don’t. But how? Being strong, brave, and focused is hard. Harder than giving up, that’s for sure.

Maybe today isn’t about feeling the greatness. Maybe today is about not losing sight of it.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

Polaris x

Iclose my diary with a sigh, spinning my pen in my hand as I let those final words settle in my stomach. It’s weird how journaling can work sometimes. Mostly it’s infuriating, recounting every mishap from the day, but other times, like now, it spirals, and I find a sense of understanding amongst the darkness.

I can’t lose sight of where I am, what I’m doing, and what’s waiting for me. It was easy to lose myself to it today, but now that the madness has settled, I can see my path more clearly again.

Tomorrow could bring another hurdle, I just have to be ready for it.

Running my fingers over the leather, I tuck the pen into the little nook of my diary and lay it down beside me. Today hasbeen rough. I might find more I want to say later, but I’m now acutely aware of the fact that the sun has set and I’m curled up in my bed. The panic has worn off and I’m hungry, starving even. I should go for food, but Asher’s words leave me trapped inside these four walls. A fact that irritates the hell out of me.

We haven’t had much interaction really, not like how I’ve connected with his friends, but when he called me Silver, it felt oddly familiar, intimate. I shake my head, trying to rid the warmth that spreads through my bones at the memory of it, but it’s easier said than done.

Pursing my lips, I shuffle to the end of my bed and stand, stretching my arms above my head as I try to ease the tension that still lingers. My stomach chooses that exact moment to grumble, solidifying the fact that I should really go for dinner.

Today isn’t about feeling the greatness, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be abouttastinggreatness.

With my mind made up, I move to put my sneakers back on, but pause when I note the grass stains on my gray sweatpants. Tingles wash over my cheeks as I recall the reason why they’re there and I hurry toward the armoire, desperate to change out of them.

Leaving them in a pool at my feet, I automatically remove my jacket and tee along with them, silently deciding on a new outfit altogether. I spy a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweater with a flower design in the center and settle into those, sinking into the soft, lush material as I pull it over my head.

I sigh, some of the tension leaving my body as I change out my sneakers for a pair of simple black boots at the back of the armoire. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I attempt to tame my wild silver hair into a ponytail, but quickly wrap it into a messy bun when it’s clear the disheveled look is going nowhere.

Certain I’m fit to be seen in public now, I run my hands over my thighs, taking another deep breath before marching to the door with purpose. Only, when I open it, I find Asher on the other side, hand poised as if he’s ready to knock.

His eyes gloss over me for a second before settling on mine. “You stayed.”

I can’t decide whether he sounds surprised or impressed. Either way, it fuels my irritation.

“Stayed, past tense. I’m leaving now,” I state, a tight, smug smile curling my lips as I move to side step him, but I don’t get far before his hand darts out, latching onto my arm as he tugs me into my room, kicking the door shut behind me. “Excuse you,” I blurt, gaping at him in disbelief.

“You’re excused,” he mutters, a hint of amusement in his tone, and I don’t like it.

My finger is wagging in his face before I realize what I’m doing. “It seems you haven’t gotten the memo. Number one, don’t lay hands on me. I have been trained by a fighting master and I am not afraid to knee you in the nuts for added measure. Number two, you don’t get to step into my room without my permission. Number three, you definitely don’t get to boss me around.”

He grabs my finger between his thumb and forefinger, amusement dancing in his eyes as he stares me down. “Are you done?” He cocks a brow and my eyes narrow.

“Get out,” I snap, yanking my finger from his grasp before folding my arms over my chest. “I need to eat and you need to leave,” I add when he simply stands there, staring at me without a care in the world.

It’s weird seeing him like this, without his face lost in his cell phone, and I can’t help but really take him in while I have the chance.

His hair is fair, practically white, and his eyes are a marbled vortex of blue and green, mixed together in a way that steals your breath. His smile is filled with mischief, while the cords in his neck run under the neckline of his t-shirt, which sits tightly over his muscular frame. He’s not stacked like Wylder, but he’s taut with ripples of muscle.

It’s disgustingly beautiful.

“Get your fill?” he asks, snapping me from my thoughts, and I lurch back in surprise.

“Excuse me?” I press my hand to my chest, acutely aware of the heat at my cheeks.

Busted.

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