18. Polaris
18
POLARIS
H is hold on me drops away like I just slapped him. His blue eyes are bright and wide, practically bulging out of his head as he rakes them over me from head to toe. He runs his fingers through his brown hair, failing to sweep it back off his face as an individual curl falls forward.
It's hard to hide the smirk as I watch his reaction, and for the first time tonight, I don’t feel a single ounce of embarrassment. There’s no burning in my cheeks, no desire for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, just a shimmering of glee and delight as I watch this man struggle to find any words.
I had a feeling the impending truth that hung in the air between us would shock him, but leaving him speechless was far greater than I could have hoped. Although, there’s a tiny piece of me that regrets admitting it. Especially when the alternative is having his lips plastered against mine.
Damn.
I thought I had been kissed before, but nothing with T ever, ever , felt like that. This was something else entirely.
One moment, I am being mauled by some vampire who doesn’t take no for an answer, and the next, I am letting this man do the exact same thing. The only difference is that I wanted him to.
I’ve been consumed by this man since the moment I got here. I’ve already seen him naked, felt his dick pressed against my thigh. I’ve already imagined the feel of his lips. But what remains abundantly clear is he doesn’t know who I am.
I’m not the new girl with strikingly obvious silver hair who has been tainted by Florentine’s.
I’m simply a mystery.
I’m Midnight.
A virgin.
It's the truth. It's not something I'm in denial over. I am a virgin. Although, the way he touched me made me wish I wasn’t. Especially with the air of anonymity I seem to be wielding tonight.
Lincoln splutters, pressing his fingertips into his temples as he attempts to take a deep breath but fails miserably.
Rubbing my lips together nervously, I consider hightailing it out of here to avoid any further awkwardness as the silence stretches out between us, but as if sensing my thoughts, his eyes lock on mine.
“A virgin,” he murmurs, repeating my words like a curse on his tongue, and I grin. But any response from me is paused as he shakes his head. “That's not possible.”
I frown, tilting my head as I look at him. Even under the dim lights and shadows that cast over the party, his refusal to believe me is somewhat…cute. Yet I can’t help but wonder how he's come to that conclusion. Who would lie about something like that?
Parting my lips, the question runs over my tongue, but before it can meet the air, he's suddenly in my face again. His hands grip my cheeks, curling under my chin as he tilts my face to the perfect angle for him to look down at me. He searches deep in my eyes, pupils blown as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“So, does that usually work on other men? Do you lure them under your midnight spell and tease them with a forbidden fruit?” His words are raspy, sending a shiver down my spine as I gape at him.
“Forbidden fruit?” I repeat, finally finding the ability to speak again, and he snickers like he's in on some kind of joke I’m unaware of.
“A girl like you, who looks like this, is definitely not a virgin.”
There’s a righteous look in his eyes. A defiance he has no right to be wearing.
I can't believe I'm having to defend myself right now, especially not over my virginity.
“And what, exactly, do I look like?” I ask, adrenaline swirling through my limbs as I jut my chin, silently challenging him and his apparent assessment of me.
He huffs, his fingers tightening around my face as the corner of his mouth tips up in a grin.
“Hot.”
The blush that creeps in this time sets my cheeks ablaze, sizzling even more as his breath blows over my face. “You say you’re a virgin, but you kiss like?—”
I snicker, bringing his observation to a halt as I watch him stare at my lips. “I didn’t realize being a virgin meant I hadn’t kissed someone before.” Damn, my voice is raspy too.
“It doesn’t,” he grunts, eyes still tracking my lips.
“Good, then to clarify, I’m a virgin who has kissed. A lot,” I reiterate, and his nostrils flare. I can’t decide if there’s a hint of irritation there, but it disappears quickly as his eyes find mine again.
They’re like bright beacons in the night. My eyes are blue, but his are like crystal-clear waters floating through the land of freedom. Something I’ve always wanted to see up close and in person, but I never thought it would be in this form. Not when I didn’t think I had a future.
“A virgin.” He breathes the words in disbelief, uncertainty still lilting his tone as I offer a single nod.
“A virgin,” I repeat for good measure, and it's like he hears me for the first time now. But to my surprise, he doesn't back away like he did before. He does, however, shake his head, disappointment rippling through him.
“I don't do virgins,” he grunts, and I can't help but smile, a move that seems to confuse him.
“And you won't be doing this one. That's what I've been trying to say this whole time.”
He blinks at me. Once, twice, three times, shuttering those crystal blues from my view before he tosses his head back with a laugh. His fingers remain planted against my skin as the hearty sound vibrates through me more prominently than the music filtering in from the party.
When his eyes finally meet mine again, there's a hint of wonder flickering behind them.
“That's a damn shame,” he mutters, running his thumb across my bottom lip.
I’m torn between grinning joyfully at his words and crumbling at the distance threatening to part us.
“If you say so.”
I'm acutely aware that we're not alone now and that revelation threatens to burst the bubble we've been in. But he moves closer so our noses touch once again. I can feel the heat rise around us, and this time, it’s not from my burning cheeks but the sexual tension coiling between us.
It's like I can taste another kiss in the air. I just need to cut the remaining distance between us and take it.
Take it, Polaris. Take one more.
I feel light-headed and dizzy as we stare at each other. I blindly reach for the hem of his t-shirt, needing the support to remain steady on my feet—an ability that seems impossible as I watch his eyes darken to sapphires.
Another pass of his thumb over my bottom lip, and I’m a goner as his words begin to breeze over my face again. “I could make an excep?—”
A scream bites through the night air, jolting us back a step and out of each other’s embrace.
I choke on the air I try to inhale into my lungs, startling at the shrill noise as panic coats my skin. Whipping my gaze around, I try to find the source of the sound, but it seems we’re not the only ones caught off-guard by the cry that swept through the party louder than the music booming through the speakers.
Another pained cry rings out as the music grinds to a halt and my eyes latch onto a frantic girl in the center of the dance floor.
“Linc, help me!”
He doesn't think twice before he runs towards the plea, and for some reason, I find myself chasing after him.
I’m drowning in a sea of worry and a blizzard of panic from the body of students crowding the dance floor, but I shoulder my way through, slipping and sliding until I reach the center. The second I come to a stop, I wish I had stayed where I was; better yet, I wish I had run in the opposite direction.
Laying on the floor, blood trickling from her mouth with her eyes glazed over, is V.
Veronica.
I don't need anybody to say it. I can already tell. I can see it with my own eyes.
She's dead.
I fall to my knees, light-headed with panic this time, as the world blurs around me. All I can see is the girl who yelled for Lincoln’s attention running her hands over Veronica’s throat, searching for a pulse as she pleads under her breath for Lincoln to take control.
Again, without question, he does. If he’s aware of the growing crowd watching in horror, he doesn’t show it. His attention is fixated on Veronica’s lifeless body.
His palm splays above her heart as he lowers his face to her parted lips, but the pull of his eyebrows shows that the breath he’s searching for no longer exists.
“What the fuck is going on?” someone barks, and my gaze whips around toward a looming guy standing a few feet away.
A familiar one.
Wylder, that's what he said his name was. Gone is the calm and inviting guy from earlier, and in his place stands a tomb of strength, fury, and rage.
The panicked girl rises to her feet, swiping at her cheeks with muddied hands as she turns to the brute statue. “Wylder, I-I don't know. I don't know. We were dancing. We…she just…she j-just dropped. She just dropped.” Every word from her lips is filled with panic as tears brim in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief.
Lincoln rises to his feet, pulling her into the warm embrace that was mine mere moments ago. She curls into him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
“There's nothing more that can be done now,” he says, the words like bullets to my heart as gasps ring throughout the gathered crowd.
“None of it makes sense, Linc. I don't understand what's going on,” she says, and he looks around the sea of students, expecting the answer to reveal itself.
But nothing comes.
Everybody is staring, too scared to blink in case we miss something as my heart ricochets in my chest.
Rapid footsteps thunder along the ground, matching the beat of my heart, and my gaze spins to the approaching runner to find him heaving with every breath as he looms over Veronica’s dead body on the ground.
“Oh, shit,” he blurts, hands planted on his hips as he gapes with wide eyes.
“‘Oh, shit’ what, Asher?” Wylder grunts as he shakes his head, his arms limp at his sides and his chin falling flat against his chest.
“They were fighting,” he rasps, pointing somewhere over his shoulder. “They were fighting, and he's dead. And now she…”
“Make sense, Asher. Make fucking sense,” Lincoln growls, and the new arrival sighs, letting the weight of his words sink in before he shares them with the group.
“Dean is dead. Dean is dead, and now she's dead…because of her blood kin curse.”
Veronica is dead.
Dead because of her blood.
Dean died first, and she wound up dead because she's cursed by blood that wields such pain she had no chance to fight it.
I feel like a fraud sitting here, Bryony at my side as we stare at Professor Whitmore taking center stage in the Grand Hall.
Gone is the party, the fun, and the liquor, along with the excitement and buzz everyone was riding moments ago, and in its place sits confusion, disaster, and tragedy. Gone is the mingling of the quads. Gone is the carefree atmosphere, and gone is a bubble of bliss that I had the slightest taste of before catastrophe struck.
Instead, I find myself consumed by desperation, dread, and a whole lot of separation. The witches are with the witches, wolves with wolves, vampires with vampires, and humans with humans.
I've heard the rumors already. I heard Asher speak them for myself in the black of night at the scene of the crime, but as I sit here, nestled in my luxurious seat, a deep bronze, just like everything else the witches touch, I hear the murmurs that swirl around the hall.
Dean was fighting with a wolf. Dean, the guy who was giving me the creeps not too long ago, is dead, and in dying, he took Veronica with him. For sure, he gave me ultimate sleazeball vibes, or as Bryony put it, cunt vibes, but the uncomfortable feeling that nestled in my gut didn’t mean his death is something I would have wished for.
Professor Whitmore doesn't mention any of that, though, and he definitely doesn't mention what will happen to the wolf who did this. Instead, he stands solemn on the stage, spine straight as disappointment flashes in his eyes.
“I’m truly sorry we are gathered here tonight. The circumstances aren't at all what any of us would ever imagine. A tragedy has occurred on our very grounds. We have lost two lives tonight. The weight of the blood kin curse is prominent as we take every breath. This is not something I ever wish for my students to see. It's not something I ever want to experience myself, either. But alas, a curse is a curse. Pain is pain, and death is death. Life is a gift. One we must cherish more than those who don’t suffer under the harrowing control of the blood kin curse.”
My mind swirls, his words a vortex in my thoughts as I repeatedly recall Veronica’s lifeless face on the ground. It’s an undeniable realness, to the blood curse, the pain, and the weight behind it. We’re not here for any reason other than survival. It's disastrous. A travesty waiting to happen. Well, I guess it already has.
Whispers ripple around the room and it’s clear both the wolves and vampires are in a state of unrest. Both have lost one of their own, apparently at the hands of a wolf, but the finer details on the matter have yet to be revealed.
Unable to deny myself, I turn toward the wolves. My eyes find Lincoln through the sea of people now dividing us. The girl from earlier is right at his side, head on his shoulder as he drapes his arm around her, stroking his fingers languidly over her skin in comfort. She wipes at her cheeks and I quickly turn back around. It’s impossible to ignore the feeling that I’m imposing on a vulnerable moment that has nothing to do with me. Right on cue, my face heats with embarrassment.
I try to fight the disappointment that takes hold inside of me, but I remind myself that it’s for the best. After tonight's example of what this curse can do, I can't allow myself to be distracted, not by a single thing.
Professor Whitmore clears his throat as if he knows he has lost the room, pulling my attention back to him. “We will be investigating the entire situation, but for now, our priority is securing the remaining wolves on-site as the full moon is due to reach its peak. So, for all of my other quadrants, please return to your dorms, where you must stay for the rest of the night. Wolves, follow me.”
At his order, the Grand Hall becomes a flurry of bodies, and I’m left seated in shock, with Bryony anchoring me in place.
“We should go,” she says after a few moments, and I nod, yet my feet don't move. Neither do hers.
Tearing my gaze from the now-empty stage, Bryony captures my attention, shaking her head in disbelief as she tucks a loose blonde curl behind her ear.
“I can't believe I saw it with my own eyes,” she murmurs, sadness creeping into her gaze as she looks back at me.
I nod, my tongue swooping over my bottom lip, but it does nothing to hydrate my parched skin. “It was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen,” I admit, and she nods in agreement. Her bottom lip wobbles just enough for me to notice before she manages to swallow it down.
“How are we supposed to survive that?” she asks, the question as much for her as it is for me. It leaves a gaping hole in my chest as the same thought consumes me, but I don't have an answer. I don't have anything to offer, but the way she's looking at me communicates loud and clear that she needs something.
“I don't know, Bryony. I wish I did, but nothing can prepare us for that.”
She clears her throat as she stands, gently shaking her head in a meek attempt to rid her mind of fear. She turns to me and offers me her hand, but the longer I stare at it, the more flustered she grows. Before I can react, she snatches my hand, squeezing tight as she stares deep into my eyes.
“No matter what, Polaris, we have to survive.”
I nod, letting her pull me to my feet, and before I can take a single step toward the exit, she wraps me in her arms, pinning my chest against hers as she whispers in my ear. “I’ve seen the pain my siblings walk with every day. The reality of taking a life is that it's a dog-eat-dog world, and if we don't take theirs, they'll take ours. And after tonight. I know which I would rather. What about you?”