Chapter 19 #2
“I guess even with a familiar, she’s still useless.
” The guy with the shaved head looked like a boiled egg he would happily crack open.
He would Humpty Dumpty that motherfucker.
The other one was obnoxiously pretty, a golden halo of hair sitting on top of his pompous head.
Felix’s eyes zeroed in on his notebook, where he had written his name on the front like a child.
Julian.
Any coherent thought flew out of Felix’s mind, replaced by a choking rage threatening to overtake him. His shortened fangs ground so hard into his teeth that he thought they might break. She is mine. Mine. I am the only one who gets to laugh at her, touch her, hurt her.
The monster within him stirred, taunting him as his vision narrowed towards the smug smile resting on Julian’s face.
The words weren’t even directed at him, or that loud.
But Felix heard them perfectly, and from the way her shoulders tensed, so could she.
It was suffocating to be in a room full of people and unable to do anything about it.
Felix’s nostrils flared as a violent heat rose within him, his pulse reverberating in his skull.
“The only thing useful about her is her cunt.” The boiled egg smirked, smacked Julian’s chest, and he laughed as if he had just heard the greatest joke of his mediocre life. “At least you got a taste of it before she went all weird.”
That was it. He was going to fucking kill them.
His vision bled red, and his jaw clenched as his fangs lengthened to rip their stupid heads off. He almost shifted right there, damn the consequences. The monster continued to stir and throw itself against his ribs, demanding release, screaming for blood.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
The word rang through his skull. This was his witch.
He would make them regret her name ever leaving their lips.
Claws threatened to come out, the tips of his fingers darkening and lengthening, black bleeding into the tips.
He curled his hands into fists tight enough that the sharp ends dug into his palms, his blood joining hers on the floor.
A low growl escaped him before her hand found his, her fingers pressing flat over his skin. The moment she touched him, Felix’s entire body went rigid.
Such a small touch, enough to send a shock clean through him and pull him out of the trance and haul him back from whatever edge he’d been about to throw himself off.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “They’re not worth it.”
Oh, they were worth it. Unfortunately, she was right about staying quiet.
He ground his jaw, willing his fangs to retract before he felt the need to use them again.
Slowly, his vision cleared, and the laboratory came back into focus.
The world still turned, students chattering away while they healed themselves or cooed over their familiars.
He didn’t dare look back at the boys. He could only control himself so much.
They had no idea how close they had come to having their heads removed from their bodies.
In any other setting, city or room, there would have been nothing left of them to identify.
He would have enjoyed it. But never say never.
Their time would come, just like the goddamn professor who waltzed over to their station.
An interruption, Felix was choosing, very generously, to treat as a reprieve rather than an insult.
Felix yanked his hand away from her, not missing the slight flicker of hurt that found its way onto her face.
“Everything okay here, Miss Alarch, Mr. uh?”
“Sukacok,” Felix replied through gritted teeth. “Transfer student.”
She couldn’t help the snort that left her nose, earning a glare from the teacher.
“Interesting last name.”
“It’s Russian.”
He was only half-lying; his real last name was Sukachov. His mother was Russian. But Sukacok was an unfortunate nickname that had stuck since he was a child back at the den. And it felt good to have a little revenge.
The professor turned his shrewd brown eyes onto the little witch, eyeing the cut. “You used your magic?”
“Yes,” she said meekly.
“It didn’t work?”
“Obviously, you old cunt.” Her voice slipped into Felix’s head, making it his turn to snort, earning another glare from the old cunt. He didn’t think she meant to project that, which made it even funnier.
“Yes, sir,” she said instead. Part of him wanted to teach her how to have a backbone, the other part of him wanted to use the professor’s backbone as a ladder to go pick some apples.
The only sounds that followed were the silent weight of her disappointment settling over the room and her blood dripping in time with the clock.
“May I be excused to go to the healers?”
“No,” he said coldly. “Miss Alarch, what did I say at the beginning of the class?”
“To help others, you must help yourself.”
“Exactly, and you would only be a burden to the healers with more pressing matters than something that will heal on its own.”
She flinched. Felix’s jaw ticked.
“Let the pain and the scar be a reminder that failure is not tolerated in Caerwyn.”
She swallowed, clearly holding back tears, before she nodded toward the professor. Felix’s shadow cat hissed at him. Good kitty.
There was something about an old man with a superiority complex through the roof that made him want to pummel it back down to the ground, regardless of species. Shifters were brutal, but even they knew you didn’t break someone before they’d learned to stand.