Rabid For Her Revenge
SEVENTEEN

Garden parties were marvelous I’d decided. There was nothing more entertaining than watching a bunch of sparrows playing at being peacocks with their parading and extravagant displays of finery and sophistication. I was surprised they were still acting so well behaved and not showing their true colors now that it was a smaller group.

Instead, it seemed like they were silently having a competition amongst themselves of who was the best dressed and presented themself as the most refined and therefore superior.

I didn’t get it at all, but then again, I had never engaged in upper society playing by the unspoken rules.

It was a pointless competition anyway with Sarakiel. My consort was the paragon of a high-class gentleman. He was polite but detached, patient yet resolute. He was a regal heron amongst suave swallows and proud blue jays. There was simply no suitable rival.

Suddenly another certain blue-eyed male came to mind.

Elisen Gadreel was a bird of prey, another kind of regal. Prideful rather than serene.

Both were extremely sufficient in catching prey but in entirely different manners. One moved slowly, able to stay still for long periods waiting for the perfect moment to strike while the other scoped out its prey before swooping down to snatch it up, overwhelming the prey with speed and strength.

Frowning, I clicked my tongue and turned my thoughts away from Elisen. He wasn’t the bird I was hoping to catch today.

Everyone had a duty to greet me since I was the host. However, most of them seemed to deem saying their hellos to Sarakiel as enough.

My consort and I were not side by side as usual during social events such as these. I was alone, standing near one of the pillars of the numerous archways. My gaze was focused on the couples, observing their interactions.

Since the males were the ones conversing with Sarakiel, the females were rendered silent. There was still much to see though.

Wide brimmed hats, polished heels, flowing skirts, and red lips.

In comparison, I was dressed rather casually in a white sleeveless top with a knee length navy blazer pulled over it, accompanied by a pair of navy and white vertically striped pants. They were flowy and flared out at the cuffs, covering my feet completely. Unless I started walking across the cold black and white checkered tile, no one would know I wasn’t wearing shoes.

There were three females in particular that caught my eye. The first female that piqued my interest only did so because of her unusual height. She was the same height as Sarakiel. Actually, if she wasn’t slouching, she would probably have a good inch on him.

A simple white and pink print floral dress covered her from neck to calf, a string of pearls looped several times around her neck. Her feet were adorned with a pair of white flats. I could only believe that a pair of heels was banned from her closet, no doubt because her consort was already annoyed with the way she towered over him.

Her hair was blonde, artificially colored most likely because of the processed look it had from being dyed far too often. I couldn’t really get a good look at her face since the brim of her hat was tipped down to the left, blocking my view.

I did not hear what her consort and Sarakiel were discussing but I didn’t need to know at this stage. Names weren’t necessary yet either. For now, she would be known as my flamingo.

The second lady I had taken to calling gold finch. She had dark brown skin and black hair that I could only see a peak of underneath her silk headwrap. She was wearing flat sandals and a white pleated skirt. Her top was a gold color with a low cut, the two pieces of the fabric covering her breasts tied together between them. The sleeves were puffy but cinched tightly around the wrists with tied bows.

She had made it on my watch list because of the way she stood calmly and disinterestedly beside her consort. There was not a hint of unease in her posture, nor fear. She only looked dreadfully bored and didn’t even bother to mask her telling expression.

All of the others seemed nervous about being in front of Sarakiel or hesitant to speak or move in an offensive way that would get them in trouble.

Finally, there was the nightingale. Her light brown hair was shoulder length and most of her hair was swept over to the other side giving her a dramatic part.

She wore a lilac chiffon dress with butterfly sleeves. It had a high belted hem just below the sternum. The dress was loose, not secured tightly around the waist but instead flaring out from the high hem. It looked like it would be the most comfortable outfit out of anyone’s and yet this female was the one who looked most uncomfortable.

I noticed how she was the only one holding hands with her consort. Not once did he ever let the nightingale’s hand go. There was nothing soothing or comforting about the contact judging from the distance the female tried to put between herself and her consort without pulling the male’s arm, even though her own arm was elongated and tensed.

Deciding it was time for a closer look, I left my post at the top tier of the garden, descending the steps to the bottom tier where everyone was gathered.

The two males I passed on my way by noticeably drew their consorts closer, giving me a wider berth.

If my confident strides and lack of an escort didn’t alert people as to who I was, my weird eyes and equally strange hair color certainly did. My hair was chopped just above my shoulders and my bangs had been shortened and cleaned up so that they no longer covered my eyes but brushed just above them, lengthening bit by bit towards my ears. The temporary box dye had washed out and faded, my hair back to its unusual white color.

As for my silver eyes, they were emphasized by the dark smokey eye shadow that framed them. Anyone who met my gaze would only replace a predatory beast staring back at them.

Sidling up behind Sarakiel, I placed my hands on his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. I brushed my nose against his neck, giving him a subtle sniff.

His hand came up to rest on mine, but never once did he falter in his conversation. He continued on as if the other male was still paying him any attention and not glaring at me with disgust.

I taunted the male, giving him a little grin, my eyes flicking away from Sarakiel’s neck and over to him for a moment before dismissing him. The action told him I found my consort’s skin far more interesting than him, and the insult had the male bristling.

My lack of greeting, the way I did whatever I pleased, touching my consort as I wished after rudely barging in, every one of my actions was further damaging to the male’s ego and yet, even though he grew angrier by the second he did not interrupt Sarakiel or address me.

That would be rude after all, disgraceful and unsightly, and he would lose in this elite game they were all playing.

His hand at his side didn’t twitch unlike his eye did, betraying his surmounting anger. However, the hand holding the female’s tightened considerably. I didn’t miss the way the female averted her gaze in an attempt to mask her grimace of pain.

I nipped at Sarakiel’s neck, signaling to him I was done playing. I didn’t wish for my fun to be at her expense.

My consort finally turned to me, picking my hand from his shoulder and bringing me around to his side. “I don’t believe you have been officially introduced to my consort.”

“No, I haven’t yet had the pleasure,” the male ground out, his face contorting into a sneer.

Sarakiel noticed. “Braham, this is Daylin Heelark.”

The addition of his name at the end of mine nearly had me choking on my spit. My consort had subtly and effectively just established my rank as more than a feral pet. He’d just publicly acknowledged me as his consort. I was an extension of Sarakiel now, I represented him and therefore had to be as respected as he was. Even though I understood why he had done it, I still never would have expected it.

No doubt Braham was close to spitting blood from Sarakiel’s brazenness and mockery of society’s rules.

Females were only respected in a social setting where they were seen as accessories. They were there to look pretty and entertain on behalf of their consorts. Even the highest ranked female was still technically below the lowest ranking male on their own, but as long as they did nothing to sully their consort’s name or embarrass them, females were treated with a degree of respect.

In reality, it was just respect to the male for having a well-trained female at his side. The entire thing was a farce.

However, Sarakiel had still implemented that unspoken rule of respect by lending me his name. Doing so sent a clear message that he was pleased with me, and I hadn’t disobeyed him or embarrassed him in any way.

I was seen as a model consort in his eyes and now he was forcing the other male to acknowledge me as such as well. Yet, I was hardly tamed, I was wild and unrefined. My actions would have any other male dragging me out by my hair to discipline me for behaving so shamelessly.

Sarakiel wasn’t a conformer, he was a trendsetter. He didn’t care to follow the norms and fit the mold perfectly. As far as he was concerned, he was the one crafting the molds and my audacious behavior fitted the one he was making for me perfectly.

Braham refused to admit he was trapped by my consort’s words and sidestepped the noose set up for him to instead fall into a pit filled with punji sticks. “I am somewhat impressed you don’t mind a crowd, what with your last experience being in front of many people and all. Aren’t you frightened of what a large group of people may do to you?”

Ah, so this is how it was? Words taken at face value that were innocuous and appropriate but so obviously had another meaning that was disparaging and menacing. This was how the elite class battled with each other, this is how they established a useless ranking system among themselves.

Little did they know they had just invited a new player who was about to introduce a reverse card. They were used to backhanded remarks, but I would deliver them directly.

There was no doubt about what this male was doing, trying to put me back in my place by reminding me that I was on probation and the moment Sarakiel stopped protecting me I would replace myself back in front of the council and continuing on with my execution.

He was warning me not to forget my place, but I was never one to tuck tail at a measly threat.

He would have had a better chance facing Sarakiel and the noose prepared for him, but he had foolishly attempted to take me on instead to avoid his social suicide and now was about to replace himself gutted.

Braham should have gracefully accepted the blow to his pride by acknowledging me as Sarakiel’s consort, but he had tried to save face and would be made a fool of by me rather than himself. He would walk away with much deeper wounds from our upcoming encounter, I’d make sure of that.

Pursing my lips, I tilted my head, resting it against Sarakiel’s shoulder. “Frightened? What an utterly laughable presumption. The monster hiding under the bed has no reason to be wary of the child it torments.”

Braham had aimed to use the influence of the council and the set ways of our society to scare me, but I hit him with the unnerving truth. I was a thorn in their side now, prancing along without a worry or care, given free range by my consort who hadn’t taken a single step to reform me and instead allowed me to run rampant breaking every stigma and stereotype of a ranked male’s consort.

“Well,” he said after he failed to contradict me, “I certainly hope you never fail to show your gratitude to the male who graciously saved you. Without him, you could hardly hold your head so high.”

He wasn’t wrong that Sarakiel had saved me and was the biggest reason that I could still behave so freely, but he was wrong to think my consort was the only thing keeping me from my death. I had no intention to meet a dreadful end now that I could see a future for myself once again and I was every bit as formidable as Sarakiel Heelark was.

The proof was right in front of me. The female, my nightingale who was cruelly trapped by the male who wouldn’t let her hand go even though he was only injuring her further, was staring at me in awe for responding on my behalf instead of letting my consort do it for me. There was a little glint of inspiration there too if I wasn’t mistaken.

I had to add fuel to that newly started fire if I ever hoped to achieve a blaze hot enough to create the forest fire I was looking for.

If she was already impressed, my nightingale was about to revere the infamous feral female who would turn into her saving grace.

Males were scary, every female understood that, but this terrified girl was about to replace out how much more terrifying a female could be.

I let my claws come out, showing them off to the couple before me. The male scowled blatantly at the thick white nails while the female only sneaked a peek. “I have endured the most brutal atrocities this life has to offer.” I reminded Braham nonchalantly, sliding my hand up and down Sarakiel’s arm, appreciating the firm muscles they found there. There was something about our contact that emboldened me, that made me feel more restless and devious.

Turning to the male, I mercilessly struck him down with unveiled, stinging, truths. “There is nothing for me to be frightened of, least of all some petty threats and worthless warnings from someone as trivial as yourself.” My fingers intertwined with my consort’s, bringing his knuckles up to my lips. I spoke leisurely behind his hand, my lips brushing against his skin. “There is nothing that you or anyone else invited here today could do to me to scare me in the least.” I kissed Sarakiel’s knuckles before letting our hands fall apart between us. I took a step forward to which Braham took two back, dragging his poor consort with him.

I advanced further, coming nose to nose with the arrogant bastard and pushed the tip of my claw to his chest. I had the urge to dig it in and Sarakiel could sense my desire. He stopped me before I gave in to the temptation.

“Play nice with your guests.” His deep melodic voice held a lighthearted tone. He was not chastising me. I would even go as far as to say he was flirting back with me a little bit, playing along with my sultry behavior to further disgust the male we were bullying, but it was a command nonetheless.

“Of course, Prince,” I cooed, shooting him a coquettish little smirk over my shoulder as I slowly retracted my claw and took a step back from Braham.

Returning to my consort’s side, I picked off a nonexistent piece of lint from his shoulder and flicked it away, my head turning just slightly to the seething male behind me. “As long as you are in the same room as me you are not safe, not even for a second. A rabid creature that can fake being docile is what you should fear. Never knowing when it might snap and eat you alive.” And with that I delivered my final line of inspiration that I hoped would get the nightingale thinking as I plainly told Braham, “It’s you who has a reason to be frightened and it’s me who you should be terrified of.”