Castle de la Rosé

Chapter Eighteen
Elian's POV

I don't know when Schuyler came in. I was kind of distracted after all. I had landed the first punch on Luke, making him swear at me before jumping on me. We tumbled to the floor with Luke on top. I elbowed Luke in the face and then shoved my shoulder into his chest, so that I could roll us over. Luke drove his knee up into my stomach.

"Nice kick," I snapped. "You're not going to do that again though." I punched him hard, only to promptly feel a sharp pain in the back of my head.

I slumped forward feeling kind of dazed, giving Luke the opportunity he wanted to switch our positions. He sat on my chest, his knees putting pressure on my shoulders. If you think that doesn't hurt, you're crazy. "I'm not going to do what again?" he asked, leaning in close and laughing in my face.

I couldn't get much leverage, but I head-butted him as hard as I could. I think it surprised him more than it hurt, but he reeled backwards far enough that I could push him off me and onto the ground. "Not going to get in my face again, maybe?" I asked, in a fake questioning voice.

I sprang to my feet and turned to the other guy. "Don't ever jump me from behind again, you filthy coward," I snarled, driving me hand up into his stomach and wanting to break every single one of ribs.

I felt more than I saw and heard Luke come up behind me. I had just enough times to tuck my wings again my body to protect them from Luke before I felt the full impact of his body hit me, sending us both tumbling to the floor. We rolled around struggling for the upper hand. Luke caught hold of one of my wings and ripped at it with his long claws.

I howled in pain and renewed my struggles to beat the ever loving hell out of the boy above me. Everyone, except for Schuyler apparently, knew better than to touch someone else's wings, much less try to hurt them. The bones in wings were delicate and who knew if they'd ever heal right. The thought of never flying again…Hell, I'd rather die.

With all my strength, I forced myself up and threw us over, getting a handful of my feather ripped out in the process. I got a good hold on his hair and slammed Luke's head hard into the ground as hard as I could.

He whined weakly, but I didn't stop. I punched him in the ribs three or four times, one right after the other. Luke went still for a moment and I had a chance to look around. That's when I saw him.

Schuyler- my Schuyler- was fighting with one of Luke's boys.

I felt myself begin to phase as I watched them, watching how the guy fighting Schuyler landed a good punch right to my boyfriend's ribs. I felt my fangs lengthen and my vision sharpen; I could feel the longing for blood to rise within me.

Luke made the mistake of slashing at my face with his long claws. I batted his hand away and slammed my hands to either side of Luke's hand, already thinking about what I could do next to cause him the most pain possible. I felt my blood sing with joy when I heard him cry out as his ear drums ruptured. I brought the heel of my hand down on his collarbone, reveling at the feeling of his bone breaking beneath my hands.

My soul screamed for me to show him how completely he was at my mercy. I wanted to rip his heart out, wanted to make him beg for his life.

Suddenly, a smaller body wrapped itself around me. I ignored the body hanging off me, trying to get in another good punch to my prey.

The boy behind me got a hold of my biceps, trying to stop me. "Elian," he pleaded. "Elian, I know you're in there somewhere."

Schuyler. I ignored the part of me still calling for more blood to spill and pulled my boyfriend in for a kiss. "I'm right here. I haven't gone anywhere, babe," I said, when I pulled away from him. I got to my feet, suppressing the urge to groan as I stretched sore muscles, and pulled Schuyler to his feet. "Are you alright?" I asked, looking my boyfriend over. Except for a nasty looking bruise on his cheek and a small cut over his eye, he looked alright, but I needed to be sure.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he confirmed.

"Good," I said, and punched him in the ribs just enough for it to hurt.

"Ow!" Schuyler yelped, rubbing his ribs and giving me the most deeply affronted look I'd ever seen in my life. "So you're allowed to fight, but I'm not?"

"That's pretty much it. I don't want to worry- You just need to stay out of trouble," I told him.

To my annoyance, Schuyler face softened as he teased, "Aw, you worry about me, do you?"

"Well, he's certainly not worried about me. I’m fine though, in case you're wondering," Corey said, dryly from behind me.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, dismissively.

"Should we do something about this?" Schuyler asked, motioning at the people around the room.

"No. They'll be fine," I said. I felt a bit shaky and I was really starting to hurt now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but I didn't want Schuyler to know that. "Someone will look after them. They're not hurt too bad."

I heard the doors to the cafeteria fly open, preparing myself for the inevitable guards to run in and take the three of us to some hellish place for punishment. I was faintly surprised when I saw it was Jasmine, but she looked so thunderous, I almost wished it was the guards.

"Elian Cirilo-" she began, but she saw something and stopped. "Oh, Elian," she whispered. "What happened to your wing?" she whispered, shuddering as she pulled her own wings closer to herself and shuddered.

I remembered only then how Luke had torn at my wings with his claws and felt a sickening pang of dread. "It was only the skin. He didn't hurt me that bad. He really didn't," I whispered, beginning to feel panicked at the sight of the fresh blood and the twisted feathers on my left wing.

"Elian, let me see," Schuyler whispered, reaching to touch my injured wing.

"No, get away from me," I murmured, panicking. It hurt! I could feel the white hot pain, running through my wing. "Leave me alone. I'm okay." I backed away from them all, my shaking more apparent.

"Elian, honey. Look at me," Jasmine murmured, her own wings spreading out, like she was going to catch flight. I know someone might think it looks threatening when we do that, but it's normally when we're at our most vulnerable. "See, I won't hurt you. You have to let me look at it."

I sank to the ground as she reached me and after a moment extended my wing to show her, wincing as the motion made the wounds burn.

Schuyler immediately made as if to move closer to me.

I didn't think. Frightened and in pain, I bared my fangs at him. "Get away from me!" I snarled. "I don't want you here."

Jasmine touched one of the scratches and my attention flashed back to her. I tried to pull my wing out of her hands, but she held on tightly. "You have to let me help you," she insisted. "And if you show me your fangs again, I'll pull them out of your mouth."

Reluctantly, I let her look. She straightened several feather and pushed others aside so she could see four long, deep scratches spanning almost three feet down my wing. "It looks like it hurts," she whispered.

"No shit," I snapped.

She only rolled her eyes at me. "It doesn't look like he tore through any major muscles or broke any bones. There's still a possibility it could get infected and you're going to need a hell of a lot of stitches, but I think you'll be fine," she said, giving me a faint smile.

"You mean it?" I whispered, not daring to believe her.

"Yeah, you won't be able to fly for awhile, but you haven't done yourself any permanent damage," she said.

I raised my eyes. "Schuyler-"

He was gone.

"He left," Corey said.

"You need to get stitches," Jasmine said, looking at me seriously. "I…I guess it wouldn't hurt to wait an hour."

She didn't need to tell me. I was already halfway to the doors, feeling a panic not unlike when I first saw my wing. 'Schuyler,' I thought. I can't believe I fucked up already.