Rabid For Her Revenge
SEVEN

Warm skin beneath my lips.

Warmth, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

I felt the thrum of life beneath my mouth and I couldn’t help but nip at the skin, earning a sharp inhale from the male.

He probably thought I was going to tear out his throat and I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t thinking about it. I wanted to watch the beautiful red liquid stain skin again, I wanted to see the way light drained out of the colorful irises. I wanted to hear the slowing thump, thump, thump of a heart until the beating stopped altogether.

Not yet though.

This wasn’t the time or the person to extract my urges on. He was too good at telling stories anyway.

So instead of killing him, I licked the skin at the hollow of his throat, and pulled away, sliding off the male and getting to my feet. I did not offer him a hand up, and I gave him no explanation as I walked out of that bathroom without looking back even once.

I only moved to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of plain undergarments, slipping them on and then pulled on a pair of baggy sweatpants that were intended for males to wear and a loose tank top.

I did not turn as Kiro slipped out of the bathroom and then out the bedroom door.

Grabbing a towel from the laundry hamper, I made my way back into the bathroom and cleaned up the pool of water on the floor and switched off the shower that had been running the whole while.

Once the bathroom was returned to its original state, I gave it a once over, glad the mirror was still gone so I did not accidentally make eye contact with my reflection. However, my eyes did snag on the scale lurking in the corner.

I grimaced and turned away from it, heading out of the bathroom and tossing the wet towel back in the hamper as I made my way out of my room.

I had no destination in mind as I walked the hallways, ignoring the looks I got from every passing house servant that worked to upkeep Sarakiel’s massive mansion. Sarakiel was not the only person who lived here, some of the staff stayed in the living quarters and some of the ranking males currently lived here while others moved in and out freely, a room always ready and available for them should they wish to stay for any period of time.

Needless to say, others were constantly coming in and out of the mansion and people were in no short supply which also meant that there was no short supply of eyes that followed me wherever I walked.

Most of the newcomers didn’t give me a second glance, hell they didn’t even give me a first. Not living here, or being on staff, they had no idea who I was and so they paid me no heed.

My feet carried me through the mansion, meandering through room after room until I eventually found myself at the mansion’s front entrance.

The old butler, whose name I cared not to remember, stood dutifully by the door, waiting to greet anyone of importance who was due to soon arrive. It wasn’t nearly as uneventful as it sounded with the astonishing number of people that came with business to the mansion every day, but Sarakiel’s territory did reside in both the Northern and Western Provinces so it was not surprising.

I walked up the curved staircase, my hand gliding across the glossy railing, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. I stopped where the stairs converged and then diverged again and stared up at the enormous painting.

The scene drew me in as it always did, a fight for power.

In my eyes I always saw the male on the left as the victor of the gruesome battle. The portrait itself gave away nothing about the outcome, but I just knew. The male on the left was hardened, his face set in grim determination while the other’s was set in a twisted sneer, hatred evident through every fiber of his being. They were both severely injured, blood seeping out of their wounds, their clothes torn in so many places, it seemed irrational to be wearing them at all. Behind them their forces clashed, a sea of teeth and claws, a land of death and blood.

The scene moved before my eyes, the stationary painting only setting the scene for what was to happen. Slowly the characters moved, their claws coming down to slash into each other. But always before I could see the killing blow, I was pulled back out and was once again met with the motionless picture.

I heard the approach of the wight before he spoke, but I refused to acknowledge the male whose arrogance I could sense rolling off him in waves. “Whose whore of the day are you?” he asked smoothly, as if such crassness was supposed to be found charming.

Ignoring males like him was the best course of action, and I found it often times pissed them off more that they didn’t get a reaction than if I were to snap a sharp reply.

“Hey, you rude bitch, I’m talking to you!” The relaxed facade came off in an instant as he snarled out his fury.

I slowly turned then, my neck twisting centimeter by centimeter. The male’s face was blotchy and red with anger at being ignored, my silence only infuriated him further.

“You think you’re too good for me you, ugly bitch?” he sneered. “Who are you fucking that you think you can act this way towards a ranked male?”

My eyes narrowed slightly. I knew without much observation that he was a Three, he was too abrasive and impulsive to ever be a Two. He’d need more grace for that, more wit.

“You think you can ignore me?” he hissed, so close that I could smell his rancid scent. His hand lifted to grab me but my own flashed out, and with a simple twist I had him slammed against the wall, my hand wrapped tightly around his neck with enough force to crush his windpipe while my claws punctured the skin.

I cocked my head at him and snap my claws in deeper, delighted to see red well up around my fingers. I applied more force and watched as red ribbons of scarlet trailed down my arms and dripped to the pristine white marble.

He was a sputtering mess as his words came out as nothing more than a drowning gurgle. The old butler’s words were quite clear though as he rapidly explained the situation over the phone.

Hmmm. Guess I’d better be quick then.

I dropped the male to the ground, where he landed on his knees, the crack echoing through the foyer. My foot slammed down on his back, pinning him to the floor. I moved my foot to his face, my toe tracing his cheekbones as I squashed his face on the cold marble. “Look who’s the bitch now,” I said quietly.

The male let out an outraged grunt and pushed against me, but I quickly counteracted by placing my heel at the top of his spine with enough pressure so that if he moved, I’d snap the bone there.

“I will make you bleed for this,” he gritted out in scattered breaths.

My face was blank, my voice dead as I asked, “You want my blood?” It took less than a second for me to use my claw to slice a gash across my forearm. I angled my arm so to let my silver blood drip onto his face.

He howled out the moment my blood touched his skin, the mercury poison I dealt with every day burning into his flesh.

I was aware of the crowd that had gathered to watch, and I couldn’t replace a more fitting first impression.

This would show them I would not be disrespected, and I was not like the average female.

They could try and walk all over me, but I’d merely grind their bones into dust instead.

I looked down at the large male I was easily overpowering, imagining what I could do at my full strength if I was able to do this in my weakened state.

My first thought was to mutilate the male and let his blood run down the stairs like a glorious crimson waterfall, my second thought was to castrate him and strip him of the masculinity he thought made him superior.

“Alive, Daylin,” a voice drawled, cutting into my subconscious.

It was an effort to lift my eyes and stop thinking of ways to make an example of the swine beneath me. Sarakiel’s stormy eyes met mind through the small crowd. There was no anger within them, nor was there amusement, just bleak boredom.

Perhaps I should entertain him? What wicked things could I do to the male I had underneath my feet that would make Sarakiel see that I was not to be crossed, that I was as dangerous as him if not more so?

Splattering brains across the immaculate white floor seemed like a good place to start. Maybe carving out his organs and making a gory scene would show them I was not to be trifled with—it would certainly be fun for me to coat my hands in blood. To plunge my claws deep into the warm body and rip out entrails like I used to do when living life on the run. Or at the very least I supposed that chopping off the hand that dared to touch me would suffice.

“Alive,” Sarakiel reminded me, his voice a little firmer as if he knew what I was thinking.

I frowned, my fun having been ruined. I was happy to see that he was not making me relinquish the male and let him get away unscathed nor was he taking over. He was trusting me to dole out the punishment I saw fit.

With a grunt I pulled my foot off the body only to send it flying forward again. I kicked so harshly into the male that he was flung down the steps, bashing into the railing, his bones cracking with every contact against the hard marble as he rolled.

By the time the male reached the end of the stairs he was a bloodied mess, whimpering in a heap on the ground.

Not quite as gruesome as I would have liked, but it would suffice. I didn’t have gasoline and a match on me anyway and I’d decided that I’d have wanted to burn him alive had I been allowed to kill the male.

Oh well, I’d take what I could get.

I followed the smears of blood, my eyes scanning the trail of crimson as it dragged across the ground to the stairs and was splattered in no particular pattern from there.

No one dared to help him, not when Sarakiel did nothing and looked completely calm about me throwing a male of ranking down the set of stairs. Not when he was staring at me, the corner of his mouth twitching, though I couldn’t tell if it was up or down those lips wanted to twitch.

I met Sarakiel’s eyes once more, staring back unflinching at those challenging eyes before turning on my heel and walking up the staircase to the east wing where the archives, offices, and libraries were located.

I would wait for him in his office because I knew without a doubt that we would be discussing this. Part of our deal had been I tell him how and why I was disrespected and saw fit to deliver a penalty.

Sure enough, Sarakiel entered his office not long after I did. He did not sit in his chair, but merely leaned against the desk next to me and crossed his arms. “How was your morning?” he asked me.

Again, his voice had changed when directed at me. He was not gruff and cold, but his tone did lack interest and was void of any and all emotions.

In kind I replied, “more eventful than others.”

“Indeed.”

More bland disinterest.

He was only asking the questions as a courtesy. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

My reply was as monotone as his inquiries, “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Yes, it seems like you had a little issue to deal with first.” His arms uncrossed and braced on the desk, his fingers curling around the edge of the table.

I looked through my curtain of white hair, my bangs were in the process of growing out and since I refused to ever tie my hair up or pin them back, they were always hanging in my face. “Just a pest problem but bugs are easily squashed underfoot.”

“Or kicked down a marble staircase it seems,” a hint of amusement was evident on his face, a small spark in his stormy eyes.

“That vermin is lucky that was all I did. I was plotting his glorious demise when you interrupted.” My voice was flat, but I made sure there was no accusation. I would hate for him to think I was pouting. “I was objectified and called a whore and bitch. I gave him a chance to walk away but he didn’t take it.” I scraped at the dried blood on my claws, flicking off the little red flakes onto the dark wood floor. “Stupid insect,” I hissed under my breath before lifting my eyes back to the One next to me. “He tried to touch me though and I could not let that go unpunished.” I flipped myself around so that I was not standing next to Sarakiel but now had him trapped between me and the desk.

He only raised a brow at my boldness. “No one,” I said, placing a bloodied claw on his chest, “touches me.” I dragged my claw up, running it up the length of his neck, and under his chin where my claw stopped just at the end, holding his chin up. I was careful not to break any skin as I said, “I will be the one who touches them.”

I let him go then and stepped back, giving him the opening to respond.

The male looked at me, his eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation before a smirk pulled up his lips. “Have a good afternoon then and do so try to not give Claude another heart attack. He nearly had an aneurysm watching your little scene.”

Claude being the butler I assumed. The world would be a better place if he dropped dead, so Sarakiel’s request would not be one that I cared to keep in mind.

Without another word between us, I departed and made my way back to my room so I could change my sweatpants that had blood stains on the cuffs and wash my arms and hands that were coated in blood.

As I ran my hands under the water watching the pink run down the drain, I realized that something had gone missing. The excitement was gone, the exhilaration had disappeared. I had enjoyed exerting my dominance over that male. I delighted in hurting him. I liked it as much as I liked stories and I wanted that feeling back.

I wanted to feel alive again, feel the echo of my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted my mind to be plagued with thoughts of death and torture so that I would stop remembering Myrin with every breath I took. I wanted to get that euphoric feeling that resulted in the suffering of others by my hand so that the pain of the mercury would be stamped down into the darkest corners of my mind.

And I wanted people to watch.

I wanted them all to see the monster Myrin had created that would now destroy them all. I wanted the whole world to watch as I made it crumble down around me.

I shut off the water and craned my neck to the corner where the glass scale resided. I walked over to it, stopping just before my toes hit the glass plate.

I didn’t want to just demolish this world, no. I wanted to do it from the inside, through their own hierarchy. And I wouldn’t simply kill them, I would make them watch as I, a female, overthrew them and made them bow before me.

But to do that I had to get stronger, I had to crack out of the shell Myrin had forced me into. Overcoming my inner demons would be the hardest part of this battle, but only once they were defeated would Myrin truly be defeated too.

Opening my eyes, I exhaled a breath and stepped on the scale.