32. Polaris
32
POLARIS
M y cheeks heat the moment we exit the locker room, but there's no one waiting like I expect. I feel tingles zing up and down my spine, every inch of me on edge, ready to combust as if someone’s waiting to scream and point in my direction, singing truths about my first orgasm.
First freaking orgasm.
I climaxed.
No failed attempt at my own hands like the few times I’d tried before.
No.
This was all him.
All him, and now there’s a fire burning deep in my core that has never existed before.
If Wylder notices I’m falling apart, he doesn’t say a single word as he tugs me down the short, narrow corridor to where the looming spectators await.
Instead of someone standing with an accusing finger aimed my way, our audience comes in the form of a packed-out space ready to greet us as we re-enter the room where the fight took place. Only now, the ring is gone, the lights are dim, and the music is vibrating through the floor. Bodies are everywhere, but the second Wylder makes an appearance, it’s as if every set of eyes turns our way.
Another round of applause echoes around the room as we're bombarded by people congratulating him. I try to slip my hand from his and put as much distance between us as possible so I can slink into the background, but it’s impossible when his hold tightens. He pins me to his side as he tries to make his way through the mass of people. I try to keep my head down, avoiding the attention as best as possible, but I still manage to spy a few familiar faces dispersed throughout the crowd.
The desire to lift my head is intense, but I tilt my face to the left, avoiding the vampires to see a flash of familiar brown-swept hair and wide blue eyes as he lifts his hand, stopping us in our tracks. Instead of looking at his friend as I expected, his eyes bore into mine.
“Midnight.”
One word from his lips and my cheeks burn at the acknowledgment, and I shake my head, desperate to put an end to this now.
“Polaris,” I murmur, my name barely audible over the music thumping through the room.
His eyebrows gather. “What?”
Clearing my throat, I muster whatever strength I have. “My name is Polaris.” I’m louder this time, refusing to continue with this charade that Wylder instigated. He might have brought me to the peak of my desired sensations, but no more lying, even if it’s just pretending.
Lincoln tilts his head to the side, staring deeper at me like he's waiting for something to pop up as some form of an explanation before he shakes his head. “Polaris, as in silver-haired witch, Polaris?”
I smile, shrugging as I pretend my cheeks aren’t practically glowing. “One and the same,” I admit, and his stare turns to a glare as his lips pinch.
“And you couldn't have told me that the other day?” he grunts, and Wylder plants a hand on his shoulder, his other hand still wrapped tightly around mine, squeezing in comfort as he takes a step forward, separating us.
He huffs a laugh, trying to alleviate the tension growing. “That was my fault, asshole. Leave her alone.”
Lincoln offers the same intense stare at his friend before turning back to me. His jaw ticks as he taps at his chin. “I need to talk to you,” he states, but Wylder interjects before I can speak.
“Not now. I won. She's mine for the night. You can talk to her some other time,” he insists, stepping around his friend as he pulls me along after him.
Torn about what I'm supposed to do, I automatically fall into step, surprised to find Lincoln right beside me as he grumbles under his breath with a sigh. “Whatever, everyone is waiting over here.” He slips back in front, taking control of the situation as he forges a path through the crowd to where a wrought iron set of stairs rises against the far left wall. They lead up to a cordoned-off area with a security guy at the bottom, separating what seems to be the elite from the commoners.
Without a word, the security guard moves out of the way, dipping his head at Lincoln and Wylder as he lifts the rope, allowing Lincoln to pass while we follow quickly behind him. The stairs rattle as we make our way up to the top floor to find velvet drapes hanging around the upper level, shielding them from the rest of the party, while the wrought iron continues around the edge, offering a balcony to spectate the dance floor below.
Leather seats line the walls like large booths with circular tables dotted around the space, and a bar sits along the far edge. It's cute. It's relaxing, but it's not the wolves’ Moon Party vibe. There's something different in the air. I just can’t pinpoint what.
Lincoln guides us toward a table, and I'm relieved to see that Bryony is already sitting with them. She looks cute in her little matching skirt and shirt set that she insisted on wearing, which has an extra button missing and the collar sitting wide, revealing the valley between her breasts. Not that she's trying to get anyone's attention. It seems she's caught in a conversation with the girl I saw beside Lincoln the other day in the dining hall.
She's in a two-piece as well, except her top isn’t as revealing. It's a sheer material with black lace over the top and see-through on the arms. With her smokey eye makeup, it has the same sultry effect as Bryony’s outfit.
Beside her is Asher, wearing a pale-blue shirt with the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s deep in his cell phone, paying no mind to anyone around him. I can’t fight the soft smile that curls my lips as Tatum comes into view in a simple black fitted tee and matching fitted jeans.
He looks good; relaxed and calm. It suits him more than the darkness that seems to follow him like a second shadow.
Since I'm taking a moment to take everybody in, I give myself a second to stare at Lincoln now that the initial shock has worn off. It doesn’t feel like a surprise to find him in a pair of fitted trousers and a white button-up shirt with wolf face cufflinks holding his sleeves in place.
Wylder, on the other hand, is in a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, fresh from the shower he took after we had our…fun.
As if sensing his presence in my thoughts, Wylder squeezes my fingers once again before releasing my hand. I watch in awe as he makes his way around the table, accepting congratulations from his friends. The situation seems familiar to them. I use the moment to step over to the far side of the space toward the balcony so I can look down at the sea of people below.
The difference in the vibe becomes obvious from this vantage point.
It's noticeable not just in the air, but to the naked eye as well: no quadrants are mixing tonight. The vampires, the witches, the humans, and the wolves are all congregated among themselves…apart from us.
I gulp at the thought, uncertainty churning inside me at the expectation of being kicked back down to Earth at any moment. Not that I'd blame them, and not that I'd be sad about it, but the fear of embarrassment is an emotion I can't seem to let go of.
Maybe being up here isn’t a good idea. Maybe everything that transpired in the locker room wasn’t?—
“Hey, Polaris, right?”
I tilt my face to find the girl who was with Lincoln at the dining hall the other day smiling wide at me. She clamps her hand on my shoulder. Weirdly, there's a comforting sensation and no animosity like I initially expect.
I nod and her smile only strengthens.
“Hi, I'm Minnie. Come and take a seat with us. Bryony was telling me all about you,” she says with a wink, and my lips purse, unsure of what it is Bryony could possibly say, but the reassuring smile I get from both the girls fills me with a bit of confidence. It’s with that I realize I’m making far too many assumptions about these people tonight, and as much as I need to be alert and safe, overanalyzing everything isn’t what this evening is supposed to be about. “By the way, I’m Lincoln's sister,” she says as she links her arm through mine and drags me toward the table, but my steps falter at the information she offers.
“Sister?” I repeat. My question is soft among the music, but she still nods eagerly. There’s a smile on her face, one filled with pride, as I take the seat between her and Bryony. I take a moment to glance back and forth between the siblings and the slice of jealousy I felt mere days ago disappears. Their eyes are the same bright blue and they hold themselves in the same way. It's a mixture of ready to go to war and an air of refusing to take anybody's shit that naturally exudes from their very beings.
I don't want to compliment Lincoln since he was a bit of an ass before. Although, he didn’t take the news terribly, I guess, so I offer her a smile. “I don't know if I should apologize to you or something?” I say, earning a chuckle from her and a glare from her brother.
“He’s nice for the most part,” she states, a warm glow taking over her face as she looks at him. “I mean, he did save you from taking a football to the head on your first day, right?” she adds with a wink, making my cheeks heat to another level as Bryony frowns.
“He did what?” the latter pushes, giving me a side glance as I internally die. The idea of recalling that moment is unbearable, and I regret skipping that part of our first interaction like the last time the topic came up between us. Still, I'm saved from being the one retelling the story as Minnie leans around me.
“It was hilarious. This poor girl had barely stepped on campus. God knows what she's just been told about us all because Florentines live a different life, right? And here she is, taking it all in when a football gets hurdled in her direction with meteoric force. Before anyone can react, Lincoln is off in wolf form, ready to save this girl before he collides with her, knocking her to the ground and shifting back into a human. A naked one at that. With his little penis pressed against her thigh.”
She’s cackling by the end of it, the sound infectious as Bryony clamps a hand over her mouth, and I look to the ceiling, praying for the blood kin curse to take me now.
“There is nothing little about my penis. Do not make me pull it out right now,” Lincoln grumbles, swiping a hand down his face, irritation evident in his eyes.
My blush becomes unbearable as Minnie fake gags at her brother, who glares at her, but there’s a softness to his eyes that isn’t usually there when he aims a pointed stare your way.
There’s love between them, that much is for sure.
Bryony can't catch her breath as she giggles along, her humor-filled eyes turning my way. “I think you missed that part,” she says, and I roll my eyes.
“Maybe,” I mutter, dipping my eyes to my lap as I try to conceal the embarrassment as best I can, but I think it's a little bit too late for that.
“What do you mean she missed that part? Have you been talking about me, Midnight?” he asks, and I lift my head to meet his eyes to find his eyebrow cocked in question. “Did you happen to tell them about the part where you were hiding from me?”
“I haven’t been hiding from you,” I reply, the words far more confident than I feel, but it’s the truth. He must not feel the same, though. The scoff he gives confirms it.
“You didn’t give me your name,” he starts, pressing his fingertips together as he starts to count my apparent offenses off on his hand. “You hid your natural hair color, and you acted like you didn’t know me when I spoke to you in combat.”
My heart rate sparks even though his words are calm. I’m under fire, and as much as I want to run and hide away from it, I also feel like I deserve to explain myself.
Clearing my throat, I match his stance, fingers poised, ready to count off my responses back to him. “One, you’re right. I didn’t give you my name, but you were happy not to know it if I recall.”
He shakes his head. “But you knew my name.”
“Yes, I didn’t realize I looked so different with my hair a darker color,” I state, watching as he purses his lips, but I proceed. “Two, technically, I dyed my hair black to have a fresh start, but when I woke the next morning, it was silver again. That wasn’t a choice, and I expect the same to happen tomorrow.” He doesn’t say anything to that, he just stares, his brows furrowing slightly. “And three, it’s not my fault you didn’t recognize me when everyone else did.”
“ I asked her not to tell you,” Wylder adds, his hand suddenly on my shoulder as he stands beside me.
I lean back to peer up at him, and the second he has my attention, he winks as he leans down to speak with Minnie. “Is everything okay with Asher?” he asks, nodding toward the guy in question, who's still deep in his phone, while effectively cutting off Lincoln’s tirade.
Asher’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes crinkled with a mixture of concern and frustration.
Minnie shrugs and shakes her head. “It’s his uncle again,” she says, and that must mean something to Wylder because he hums in agreement. I run my tongue along my bottom lip as I take him in, trying to understand what they know and I don't, but I don't dare ask. It's not my place.
Instead, I accept the shot placed before me at Wylder's direction to a waiter, and the amusement on his face tells me it's tequila. Again. I don't even need to taste it to know. He reaches for my hand, running his tongue over my finger, and I shiver at the contact, but he’s quickly gone, scattering a small line of salt in his wake. I’m left gaping at him as he places a wedge of lime down in front of me before reaching for his own shot glass. My words are lodged in my throat, so I do the only thing I can do, which is clink my glass. I copy his movement, sweeping my tongue over the salt before tossing the liquor back, feeling the familiar burn. It's not as bad this time. It's not amazing, but I'm sure it's still better than the beer everyone keeps warning me about. The second I place my glass down, he reaches for the lime, and I follow suit, biting into the tangy citric fruit with a hiss as the juices coat my tongue.
The song changes in the background. I only notice because it seems to turn up a notch before a squeal comes from Minnie, and she's on her feet, darting toward Lincoln as the first word is sung. As if anticipating her approach, he spins to catch her just in time and the pair of them start to dance. They shake their asses, they laugh, they do some kind of synchronized moves that are a little bit concerning, yet hilarious to watch.
I catch his stare a few times. He offers me nothing but a pinched expression followed by a shake of his head before he looks away. Again, and again, and again. It's only when Wylder takes Minnie’s seat beside me with a chuckle on his lips that I'm aware Lincoln's questionable behavior is noticeable to everyone.
“I think I'm visibly watching him get hot for you, then remind himself you're a virgin,” Wylder whispers against my ear as he squeezes his hand against my thigh, and I grimace. Not from his touch, but from his acknowledgment of Lincoln’s little show.
“You caught that?” I grumble, dipping my face, but he catches my chin and chuckles.
“When it comes to you, it seems I catch everything, Little Witch.”
His words turn me into lava, reminding me of the state he left me in earlier and what he was able to do to my body, and I bite back a groan.
The air shifts slightly when Asher lifts his cell phone to his ear, muttering something into the device before tucking it away in his pocket.
“We need to get ready to leave,” he grumbles, rising from his seat without looking at everyone.
Nobody seems to argue, though. They just stop what they’re doing and start following his order.
Even though I'm slightly disappointed that there's nothing left of the day, I'm barely standing after the opportunities I’ve had the chance to experience.
“I’ll walk you back,” Wylder says, reaching for my hand and tugging me to my feet. Then Tatum suddenly appears in my peripheral vision.
“That's my job.”
It's as if the music has been muted and everyone turns to look our way. I can feel their eyes dart back and forth between Tatum and me as Wylder’s fingers flex against mine.
“Your job?” Wylder asks as I sense Minnie and Lincoln edge closer. Asher remains on the fringe of the group in his own little world, but Tatum's eyes remain set on mine, and I can’t look away.
A shiver runs down my spine as he takes a small, almost nervous step toward me.
“It's my job, right?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, feeling my cheeks burn even brighter than they ever have at this stage in my life. I'm pretty sure my cheeks will forever be burning. I don't recall the general sensation of them not being on fire since arriving at Trinity Falls.
Despite the audience we’ve garnered, everything that unraveled tonight with Wylder, and the conversation with Lincoln, I find myself nodding as my heart ricochets against my ribcage.
“It's your job,” I breathe, expecting to self-combust, but it's worth it to see the smile curl the corner of his lip.
I don’t know why I agree, or even how, but the moment the words leave my lips I believe in them.
He nods, pleased with himself. He doesn’t offer me his hand, just waves for me to follow him, and to my surprise, Wylder relaxes his hold on my fingers and I finally manage to look up at him. He nods toward Tatum, his lips clamped shut, and before I can second guess myself, I'm up and at his side before anyone else seems to move.
Tatum doesn't hesitate as he leads the way downstairs, making sure I'm right behind him. We cut through the crowd and head toward a side exit, and a few moments later, we’re out in the night air.
I take a deep breath, appreciating the change in temperature, hoping it will kill the heat in my cheeks and the rest of my body as I walk side by side with the mysterious boy who continues to make his presence known.
“You look different with the dark hair,” he states, and I nervously tuck a loose curl behind my ear, worried that he doesn’t like it. Not that it should matter, but it seems I’m eager to please under their scrutiny. I don't know how or why I feel enticed by them, but it’s undeniable. “In a good way I mean,” he adds, and I fail to bite back the smile turning the corners of my lips.
“Thanks. I've been trying something new, even if it’s only for a few hours.”
His eyes narrow, and there is a hint of confusion in his deep stare, but he shrugs it off as we head up the path I took to get here. It's only a ten-minute walk, and I know we'll be back at the quadrants soon enough.
A comfortable silence washes over both of us and I glance over my shoulder to see everybody else is only a few steps behind. Bryony included. Weirdly, nobody tries to walk with us. I start to worry that I've done something wrong, but when I turn back to Tatum, it's to find a smile spread across his face.
“What?” I ask, and he shakes his head. Concern threatens to get the better of me, and I ask again, “What?”
He looks at me and I'm certain there's a hint of pink on his cheeks.
“I can hear them.”
“Hear them?” I ask, and he taps his ear.
“Wolf senses,” he states as if that's explanation enough, nodding his head behind to where the rest of the group trail behind.
“Apparently, I might need educating on that,” I say, still confused, and the smile on his face softens.
“I can teach you whatever you want to know.”
I tilt my head, taking him in, and decide now is not the time to learn every single thing about a wolf. Instead, I point my thumb over my shoulder.
“What are they saying?”
He glances back, following the direction of my thumb, before turning back to the front with his eyes downcast.
“Nothing,” he insists, but the smile he’s failing to hide from his face is something different.
Attempting my best pointed look, I wait for him to turn to face me, and by the time he does, it's in full strength. Instead of faltering at the look on my face, his grin spreads wider.
“Does that stare get you everything you want?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I don't know. This is my first time trying it,” I admit truthfully, and the smile on his face turns into a bubble of laughter.
“He’s laughing,” Minnie giggles from behind, and I glance back.
“Even I heard that,” I state, and he laughs again, the sound raspy as it swirls around us.
Neither of us says a word and a comfortable air settles around us again. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like there's an understanding between us that feels…safe.
Safe .
A word I don't use very often, if at all. Yet, in these moments where there's not even a single breath between us, I feel it.
Following the winding path, the quadrants come into view, and a hint of sadness creeps into my bones at the fact that the night is over, although I'm sure I'll lie awake in bed analyzing everything that's happened tonight.
“I’m sad a lot,” he blurts, his eyes clouding with an emotion I can't quite place under the moonlit sky.
I hum, keeping my stare dead ahead. “I’m lost a lot,” I admit, feeling his raw fact deserves one from me too.
“There's something in you I find in myself,” he admits as we approach the fork in the road leading to the different quads.
“I’m glad,” I breathe as he stops to face me properly.
“To the door?” he asks, and I bite back a smile.
“To the door,” I agree, stepping onto the sandy path that leads to the witches’ dorm.
No words are said. Nothing is needed. And despite the fact that Wylder has done things to my body tonight, on a level of intimacy I've never felt before in my life, I somehow feel just as close to Tatum in this moment. It’s another thing for me to analyze instead of sleeping tonight.
He stops by the door and I turn to face him, noting the rest of his friends and Bryony a few feet away, watching us like a movie unraveling before their very eyes.
“Thank you. You really didn't have to,” I insist, and he smiles, the air thickening in just a way that I know a repeat of last time is in order. Ignoring our audience, I cut the distance between us, placing my hand on his shoulder as I rise onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his cheek. “Goodnight, Tatum,” I murmur, stepping back, and his smile imprints in my mind as he breathes.
“Goodnight. Polaris.”