Page 62 of Savage Desire

“Being a witch isn’t easy, Polaris, but it’s powerful, rewarding, and humbling all at once. You just have to get a handle on it.”

“I’m scared it will all be for nothing when I do,” I breathe, the words slipping past my lips before I can filter them.

Her hand reaches across the table, landing on mine, and she squeezes with comfort. “Let’s make sure that’s not the case then.”

I nod, closing the book as I stare at her. “I woke up in my room. The last thing I remember is pissing Foster off, but then… nothing,” I blurt, my face warming at the fact that I’m having to acknowledge just how damn vulnerable I am.

Her eyebrows furrow as her lips purse. “It’s definitely giving me vampire vibes,” she states, and I sigh. “Do you feel scared?”

“Weirdly, no,” I admit, and she nods.

“Definitely vampire vibes.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” I grumble, more to myself than anything, as she pulls her hand back.

“Maybe we should think about making you some sage and rue charms,” she suggests, and I frown.

“Wait, there's another preventative? I think I caught something about lavender earlier too, but it doesn’t seem real that there would be a way to stop this from happening,” I mutter, irritation prickling down my spine. She winces, but there’s no remorse in her eyes.

“Technically, yes, but it’s not pleasant, and the vampires make it nearly impossible to find any rue these days. Besides,it requires…” She shivers as her words taper off, and I shudder even though I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“No.”

Her eyebrows gather. “What.”

My hand slaps against my mouth, confusion twisting my gut tight as another bubble of refusal rises to the surface. “No sage and rue charms.”

“Why?” she asks hesitantly, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“I-I don’t know,” I admit, pressing at my temple, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. I have no idea where that came from or why. I’ve never even heard of it until now… right?

Bryony stands, pressing her hands against the table as she gazes intensely into my eyes. “Polaris, it’s definitely a fucking vampire thing because I swear on everything I am that compulsion made you say that.”

Fuck.

22

ASHER

“Do you think she knows?” Wylder’s question lingers in the air, almost swallowed up by the noise vibrating around the dining hall as everyone eats their lunch. I leave him unanswered, hoping someone else will deal with him while I send yet another message over to my uncle’s number one.

I hate the word uncle.

As a child, you learn about your family: your mother, your father, your sister, your brother, your aunt, and your uncle, as well as your grandparents and anyone else in between.

My mother remains an angel in my memory, back before the world tainted her. Beforehetainted her. She would read me bedtime stories, hold me when I was scared, and kiss me on the forehead every chance she got—an angel.

My father, a hard man overall, softened only for her. He always made her seem happier and prettier by just being in her presence, but he was always very straight to the point. As an enforcer for the Knight Pack, he had a lot to handle, darkness to witness, and members to protect. His gentleness was lost among the carnage. But his passing changed everything, and I wish for all of eternity just to see him glare one last time.

No brothers. No sisters.

Just me.

The sole survivor of Richard and Diane Manning.

Broken, my mother sought help from the one person she trusted: her brother.

Enter my uncle.

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