Page 59 of Savage Desire

“Well, I’m going to treat you with it anyway,” he starts, and tingles shimmer up my arms. “I was thinking how it was criminal last night to be on the other side of the door while you took Tatum’s cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. I bet he stretched your lips wide, didn’t he? I bet you looked fucking delectable with glossy eyes. Fuck, the moans, the moans areallI’ve been thinking about.”

Rest in peace, Polaris Beauchamp.

Dead to the hot words from the insufferable man that is Wylder fucking Aires.

No one was outside of the office when we left, I thought they were long gone. It seems I was wrong.

Fuck.

I don’t know what to say. All I can do is blink at him, my face most definitely the shade of deathly embarrassment, and he laps it up.

“Don’t worry, Little Witch. You can settle my mind with all of these thoughts by promising me your time tonight,” he breathes, lifting his hand to cup my face. His thumb grazes over my heated cheek, my skin prickling at the contact. “I’ll even say please.”

“I-I need to s-study t-tonight,” I stutter, struggling to breathe under his intense stare as he pouts.

“After that.” How am I supposed to answer this man when I feel like I’m about to self combust? He takes my silence as rejection and tilts my chin back. “You’re going to make me wait until fight night tomorrow, aren’t you?” he breathes, but there’s no disappointment in his tone. If anything, he seems amused. “Fine, have it your way. Delayed gratification is my thing, or our thing, it seems.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “But promise me this,” he whispers, bringing his lips to my ear.

“What?” I whisper, my heart thundering in my chest.

“When you find your hand traveling south later, make sure it’s my name on your lips, okay?” He leans back, seemingly satisfied with the heated horror that morphs my face before he rises from his seat. “Behave, Little Witch,” he states with a wink, and then he’s gone.

What in the ever loving fuck just happened?

I feel like I’ve just been smashed by a freight train.

Scrambling to focus on my surroundings and shield the effect he has on me, I eat. I barely finish half of what he loaded onto the plate, but I’m stuffed. A quick glance at the time, and I panic. Classes start in five minutes and Bryony still isn’t here.

Reluctantly, I rise from my seat, backpack over my shoulder as I head for the exit. I keep my head down, avoiding everyone’s potential stares, especially the wolves. I make it outside unscathed, until I round the corner and bump into someone.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I ramble, stumbling back to see it’s Foster, another asshole from The Renegades.

“Maybe watch where you’re fucking going in the future,” he grunts, and although I want to snap back at him, I notice the redness that circles his eyes. He’s been crying.

Clearing my throat, I try my best to let his harsh words trail off. “I will. Sorry. You haven’t seen Bryony, have you?” I ask, and his sneer only grows more cruel as he peers down at me.

“Oh, she sure as shit doesn’t want to see you right now,” he bites before storming off, shoulder barging into me as he goes.

Guilt trickles down my spine as panic sets in just before the weight of a hand on my shoulder buoys me.

I lean into the touch, a sense of comfort washing over me as I turn to see who it is, but then everything is… black.

21

POLARIS

My nose scrunches up first and my forehead wrinkles in confusion as a wave of unease washes over me. My hands ball into fists at my sides and the feel of soft sheets beneath me eases a little of the tension that courses through my body.

Taking a deep breath, I pry my eyes open, my confusion deepening as I stare at a familiar ceiling—my ceiling. With another exhale, I press my hands into the mattress and shuffle back to prop myself against the headboard.

A quick glance at the clock confirms it’s dinner time and I gulp. Why am I in bed right now? Scrubbing my forehead, I try to recall the last thing I remember before the darkness. I had the joy of experiencing Foster’s prickly side, then… nothing.

This can’t keep happening to me.

At least I managed to find my way back to my room this time. There’s got to be a silver lining in this somewhere, right?

My bedroom door rattles with a knock, a hint of impatience in the banging.

Slipping out of bed, I glance at myself and sigh in relief when I see I’m still wearing the clothes I put on this morning. It doesn’t explain much, but I suppose it’s another bit ofinformation to add to the growing pile of jigsaw pieces I can’t fit together.

---