Page 65 of Savage Torment

Entering the witch building, we find the communal area empty, which makes the presence of four dominating wolves lessof an issue as we take the stairs. When we reach my door, I curl my hand around the handle but Lincoln wraps his hand around my wrist, pausing me.

“What was with Blaze earlier?” The look of intensity on his face makes me snicker.

“What’s with Blaze at all times?” I retort, giving him a pointed look, and his eyes narrow.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m aware, but neither does he.”

“I don’t like it,” Tatum interjects, and I glance past Lincoln to meet his gaze. “I don’t like that he’s an ass in public,” he adds for clarity, and I offer him a tight smile.

“Me either. But we’ve got too much going on for me to try to understand him right now,” I admit, and the silence that follows makes it clear that the conversation may be done with for now, but not forever.

Lincoln finally releases my wrist and I open my bedroom door, leading the way inside. Nothing is out of place this time, and the chalice is still perched on my desk where we left it. A little of the tension I hadn’t realized was gathering in my shoulders subsides.

The four of them filter in after me, completely taking over the room like they always do. Asher heads straight for the chalice, repositioning it on the bed as we all stand around, waiting for it to do… something.

“What do we do?” I ask when no one takes the lead, and Lincoln sighs.

“We’re hoping the witch can figure it out because we sure as shit haven’t been able to.”

“Great,” I mumble, nervously wiping a hand over my mouth.

“There’s no pressure, but in our hands, it’s been nothing but an empty cup,” Tatum offers, doing nothing to ease the pressure I suddenly feel.

Determined to find the something we’re searching for, I grab the chalice and stare down at it, tingles running along my fingers.

“Has it always been… vibrating?” I ask, frowning as I glance at the others. They all look at me with an equally confused expression.

“Vibrating?” Asher asks, questionably peering at the object in my hands, and I nod.

“It’s really light, almost like it’s not here at all, but…”

“But what?” Lincoln asks, and I rub my lips together nervously.

“I think I read something in my grimoire about this kind of thing yesterday,” I admit, lowering the chalice to my bed as I reach for my bag. Heaving the thick grimoire onto the bed, I flip through the pages, searching for the passage I’m trying to recall.

It takes a few minutes, but I eventually find what I’m looking for. Whether it actually connects, I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out. Excitement pools in my gut as I tap the worn page with my right hand while blindly slipping my left hand into my pocket, searching for my velvet pouch.

“What is it?” Wylder asks, his voice hitched with intrigue, but I don’t get a chance to answer before Asher’s interjects.

“Just let her do her thing.”

“She doesn’t even know what her thing is,” Lincoln grunts, and my gaze snaps to him, anger coiling down my spine, but just like a moment earlier, another one of the wolves reacts on my behalf.

Tatum’s fist sails through the air, slamming into the side of Lincoln’s face.

I leap back in shock, almost dropping my sand, but I manage to pin it to my chest as I gape between the two of them.

“Stop tearing her down with your backhanded comments,” Tatum snarls, rage brewing in his eyes, but to my surprise, no anger exudes from Lincoln.

Instead, he rubs at the sore spot. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Wylder holds out a fist bump for Tatum, but he rolls his eyes, refusing to partake. However, it does seem to calm the simmering storm inside of him.

“Are you okay?”

I frown with concern at Tatum, who nods, taking a deep breath as he shakes his hand out, and Lincoln huffs.

---