Wings

Red (Revised)

DERRICK

      Anxiety was an emotion that I had regrettably become well acquainted with. Whether it be because of Riya's unwelcome advances, Kennedy's growing distance, the choking tension that settled into my pack, or all of the above, the constant fear and uncertainty made the birdcage feel less and less like home with each passing day.
     Today, just like every other day, I couldn't quite put a claw on what it was that made my stomach churn and my wings curl behind my back.
     Gloria had no sympathy in her heart for me; my dragging feet were met with the light shove to my back. The fourth time the handler egged me on, she let out a dreary sigh. "This was getting old a month ago, Derrick. Move it."
     "Yes, ma'am." I grumbled through a muffling muzzle and picked up the pace.
     "That's the spirit." Gloria hummed spiritlessly. "The sooner we get there, the sooner you get to see your friends."
    For once, I was glad that the muzzle I wore slightly hampered my ability to speak-- talking back to Gloria wasn't a good idea. So what if she was blind to Riya's dictatorship? Gloria was exactly what she needed to be: a human with no investment in the birds. The further she was from the situation, the better off she would be when it inevitably imploded.
     The remainder of our walk passed in silence. Aside from the few worrying thoughts that managed to slip into my mind, I was able to collect myself enough to beat back the nerves that grew with every step I took towards the bird I wanted to avoid at all costs.
     It was when Gloria began to undo my restraints in front of the door to the birdcage that it hit me like a ton of bricks.
     A reeking, odorous fume that I prayed I would never encounter again. The smell made me struggle against my binds, prompting a harsh "Still!" from the human that couldn't detect the scent seeping through the thick metal gateway. Evidence of a wicked crime glued my shaking legs to linoleum tile as Gloria pried nylon mitts from my hands and released my jaw from the muzzle's stranglehold.
     One press of a button, a shove, and not a single glance into the unrestricted ward, and the human vanished from view on the opposite side of heavy, mechanical doors.
     Eerie silence clung to the birdcage like a soggy, sticky blanket.
      The scene that presented itself to my wide eyes looked like it belonged in a horror movie. Blood spatter coated sections of floor and walls, broken feathers laid scattered around the hallway leading to the great room, and the all-too-familiar scents of my packmates emanated from trails of blood that pooled and smeared in spots.
     My heart raced and thrashed in my chest like a struggling rabbit, sending me scrambling into a cramped corner with my wings folded in on themselves. Hyperventilation stole the breath from my lungs. The room swam before me in my oxygen-deprived state, making me squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on anything that would calm me down.
     "Breathe with me, Derrick." I heard Kennedy coo to me all those weeks ago.
     "Look at me. Breathe with me." Blue-gray eyes teemed with so much love and concern that they broke through to me. I gasped desperately to the memory's full breaths. Fighting the panic strangling my chest, my starving lungs scrabbled to take in the iron-tinged air.
     "Just like that." He hummed, exaggerating his breaths so I would too. "Just focus on me, Derrick, you're okay."
     "I'm okay." I mimicked weakly, "I'm okay. I'm okay."
     "I'm okay." I repeated one last time for good measure.
     Slowly, reluctantly, my eyelids peeled themselves apart. Red painted the room like abstract art, and I clung to my even breaths with the resolve of a rock climber hanging onto a sheer cliff. The birdcage had been completely destroyed: tattered furniture laid toppled on its side, everything breakable was shattered and scattered on the floor, and Kennedy's hammock, sporting rows of puncturing claw marks, swung lazily from one attachment-- the other was clawed from its bolt.
     "I'm okay." I whispered as I toed through the endless patches of blood.
     "I'm okay." The first substantial smear of blood was Harmony's. Pooling lightly, it trailed for a few yards before morphing into several spatter marks and a vanishing path of droplets.
     "I'm okay." The second and third were huddled into the wall. The vast majority held Jordan's angry, A negative blood type, revealing itself in puddles and pools and spatters on popcorn walls. Behind a barrier of the teenager's blood and shredded, bark-brown feathers, a small pool of Diasha's blood began to dry.
     "I'm okay." My breaths began to get shallower and shallower as I crossed a heavy track of Orlando's blood that ended in a conglomerated pool of he and his mate's blood. Protecting the ruby lake sat macabre ring of Owen's blood-- it looked like he had been struck repeatedly.
     Words caught in my throat like dry cotton balls. Trembling legs launched a mutiny, refusing to carry me a single step further towards a smeared puddle of blood that smelled too much like pine.
     It was spread in such a way that whoever made it must have been struggling. Crushed blonde feathers and jagged strips of flesh had been painstakingly ripped from their roots and cast into the ruby puddle.
     I'm not okay.
     Wobbling knees brought me to the ground, my quivering palms landing in the pool of my almost-mate's blood. Off-white garments and beige skin stained red like a horrible canvas for the wrong I had caused.
     I couldn't stop the hyperventilating this time. My lungs filled with air over and over again before I was struck by a constricting sensation in my throat, forcing it all out in an agonized howl that resounded in the deathly silence of the birdcage.
     That's all it was-- a cage. A trap, a hole that we were damned to to suffer for our sins until we finally died and went to hell again.
     Maybe this was all karma. Maybe we really deserve to be tortured. Maybe we really did deserve to be muzzled and bound and beaten.
     After all, we really were just monsters, weren't we?
     As the last whisper of air left my lungs, nausea washed over me like a wave, and I found myself losing both human food and human flesh into the lake of crimson.
     We're not okay.
     "How can you do this?!" I demanded to the silence of the birdcage. My bloody fist rammed into the soiled linoleum tile.
     "Where are you?!" My shouts were enraged, hungry for revenge, but just barely managed to cover up the terror that rooted itself in every crack and crevice that split my heart in two.
     "Show yourself!" I commanded as I rose to my feet. Choler steadied me as I waited for an answer.
     From the fourth story, a gravelly voice whimpered, "Up here!" immediately followed by a sickening crack and a sharp squeal.
     Furious wings wasted no time launching me into the air, eating the meager forty feet to the fourth floor.
     What am I even going to do about this?
     What could I even do about this?
     The harsh landing I stuck on the top story shook the platform like an earthquake. A pained moan at the jostling drew my gaze to a pillar on my left. At first, I didn't recognize the bird that cast a pleading look my way, tears flowing freely down her bloodied face and soaking into a crude cloth gag. Jordan sat on her knees, bound in torn sheets, sagging to the side to favor a crooked leg. Through the gag, she mouthed one, begging word.
     Please.
     Then, I noticed the rest.
     Diasha curled behind Jordan where she applied pressure to a wound on her thigh. Orlando, who wore a busted lip and a claw marks that tore through his violet garments and carved into his flesh, cradled a beaten Owen who drifted in and out off consciousness. Harmony huddled into a corner with her unwavering gaze focused on me, despite one purple-ringed eye being swollen shut. Makeshift binds crafted from bed sheets restrained everyone to some degree.
     And thrown on the floor's massive matress, Kennedy was laid out and hogtied like a Thanksgiving turkey. Vital flight feathers were ripped from his wings, discolored bruises marred his once-perfect tan skintone, and patches of skin and flesh were the unfortunate victims of Riya's claws.
     I saw red. Then, I saw Riya, and the haze of fury that clouded my vision melted into the cowardice that had preserved all of our lives for the past two months.
     "Here I am." The alpha hissed through blood-stained fangs, black wings raising high in the air. "What are you going to do about it?"
     Jaw set and gaze shifting away, my self-proclaimed mate stalked increasingly closer, and I allowed myself to fidget in just the way she liked me to under her intense stare. Now inches from me, she rose her head to hiss into ear to send uncomfortable shivers racing down my spine.
     "You won't do anything, will you, Derrick?"
     I didn't give her the pleasure of an answer. Undeterred, she continued, "The little show you made the last time we were intimate made me very angry. That behavior will not be tolerated."
     "That's why you did this?" I whispered in disbelief, my eyes trained to my blood-soaked feet.
     "You caused this, Derrick." Riya asserted confidently.
     "You're psychotic."
     A clawed hand landed gently on my chin. "And?"
     The perfectly manicured, solid black nails crept upwards on a curvy path to my cheek, where they traced four jagged scars that tore my left cheek from the bottom of my ear and the outer corner of my eye to the edge of my jaw.
     "I'm only reminding you that you are mine, dearest." Riya's sickly-sweet voice cooed.
     With a tenderness that the alpha demanded of me, I delicately lifted the threatening hand from my face.
     "Please forgive me." My soft-practiced voice cooed back to her. As I shifted my anxious gaze up to meet her stony, emotionless brown eyes, I felt my stomach do terrified backflips. "I'm so sorry, Riya."
     The claws my sweaty palms held tightened around my fingers minutely. "You're going to have to do better than that." Riya hissed with bared fangs.
     Can I really do this?
     In our shared tongue this time, I pleaded in lowly whimpers, "Please, Riya, I'm so sorry."
     Pushing down my repulsion, I pressed myself to nuzzle against the top of her head. "I'll do anything you want me to." Saying the words felt like I was choking on bile.
     "Prove it." She growled with one authoritative click and a nip at my ear.
     I can't do this.
     The objections I held in my gut were buried with all the rest of my dignity. With a deep, anchoring breath, I lowered my lips to Riya's neck and did what she loved so much. It was always my fast pass for getting out of trouble, but I was skeptical that it would dig me out of this hole I had dug for myself.
     A weak bleh came from Orlando. The sheet-bound bird pretended to hurl at our show, effectively eliciting a menacing growl from Riya.
     "Pay attention to me." I whined pathetically to Riya in our shared tongue. With a few nudges to her jaw and more pitiful whining, the alpha eventually turned her sights back to me with another low growl.
     My reluctant tongue played with her throat like it was a ticking time bomb. Regardless of my hesitance, Riya mewled like a kitten, pulling me ever-closer.
     I can't do this.
     Capturing Riya's wandering hands, I held each wrist securely by my sides. The alpha let out a pleased yip!, and with a good measure of vacillation, I returned a submissive yip of my own.
     The entire pack watched without a word as I took the opportunity to push her backwards and onto the bed. Kennedy, who laid not three feet from us, thrashed and wiggled to get away from our public play session. His commotion almost garnered Riya's attention. Through a playful growl and a light nip, I stole it back once again.
     I can't do this anymore.
     Kennedy's beautiful, blue-gray eyes locked with mine momentarily through the ordeal. The mauled bird shook violently, tears streaming down his blood-caked skin. Didn't he know that this was for him? That I was only doing this to save him?
     My resolution began to crack. I let my gaze beg him for the forgiveness I would never deserve.
     Without a drop of conviction, I let my blunt teeth turn into a mouthful of fangs. Trembling hands still pinning Riya's wrists above her head, knees forcing her down into the creaking mattress, I pressed the sharp points of my fangs into her throat and mustered a cat-ish growl.
     The harlot's writhing ceased not a second later. As if uncertain, she returned her own unsubstantial growl. When seconds passed and I didn't withdraw, the tiny growl turned into a livid snarl. Her writhing was reborn, now morphed into an enraged struggle for freedom.
     "How dare you?!" Riya spat from beneath me.
     I wasn't stupid-- I knew I was challenging her dominance, and I knew exactly what it entailed.
     Twisting out of my grasp, Riya freed five clawed fingers and sunk them deep in my shoulder. My anguished screech released her throat from my jaws, and before I knew it, I was being shoved off of the infuriated bird.
     "You ingrate!" The alpha snarled, spittle flying in all directions, "I gave you my pack, I gave you my food, I gave you my body, and this is how you repay me?"
     The claws released me, and a flying kick sent me backwards and off the bed. I scuttled backwards the rest of the way to the edge of the platform, as I watched Riya crawl forward and off of the bed with murderous intent.
     Two shuddering, midnight-black wings extended to their full width behind her. Curved claws protracted with the intent to maim my trembling flesh. A full set of fangs chattered and clicked to let me know that they would soon be buried inside of me. Not for the first time, I realized that standing up to Riya was a horrible idea.
     But there was no going back now, was there?
     For just a moment, I was back on Luka and I's bathroom floor, frigid tile biting into my legs and the warmth of my master's arms wrapped around my shaking frame.
     "You are putting an end to this yourself." Luka had told me. He had been trying his best to contain himself, but I could feel the anger he barely contained seeping out through his words.
     It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a command, and I was damn well going to my best to do exactly what he told me to. If there was one thing that I knew for sure, it was that Luka always had my best interests in mind--even if my best interests somehow managed to be going toe to toe with a psychotic lionheart.
Sticking to my guns while Riya put on her display was one of the more difficult things I've had to endure in my lifetime. What was harder, though, was knowing exactly what it was I had to do if I truly was going to go toe to toe with the said psychotic lionheart.
     Before I could falter in my resolution, I stuck two resistant middle fingers high in the sky for her, waving them around like glow sticks at a concert. The moment she dropped her jaw in shock, I stuck my tongue out to egg her on.
     Egg her on I did. Like a bull charging a matador, the alpha came at me with such speed and rage that I didn't bother to dodge. A speeding bullet of a body tackled me to the ground without a hint of remorse.
     Some mate.
     I knew that I needed this-- I deserved it, but there was more to it than that. Not for the first time in my life, I let myself lay down and take a beating from someone who was hell-bent on making me suffer.
     Seeing my packmates watch the pummeling with mixed emotions had me squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as I manage. Some of them wore pity on their features, some were vacant, like they had been drained of feeling by Riya's treatment, and still others, namely Kennedy, allowed themselves to simply hang their heads and sob.
     Just because I was used to the repetitive blows the alpha landed on me didn't mean that I was numb to it. Each kick to the ribs had me wheezing for air like a fish out of water, each fist to the head spurred on my pained whines and yelps, and though I could feel myself slowly begin to drown in the torment, I searched frantically through the darkness for a life raft.
     Something red-hot, something scalding, something that I had done my very best to bury for Luka.
     Deep inside of me, I knew I had my fury packed away in a long-forgotten corner of my mind. In a little mason jar, tucked neatly between some childhood trauma and violent fantasies, filed away for when I would hopefully never need it again.
     Well, I needed it pretty desperately right now.
     I needed that trauma, I needed those fantasies, I needed the blinding rage that had made me slaughter humans and fight for freedom and resist my captors. The hysteria that turned every tiny battle into a huge victory, that gave me the will to continue, that was what I needed to help myself. Most importantly, it was what I needed to help my friends.
     It grew closer and closer with every strike. Riya didn't go easy on me just because I was her mate— and I was glad for it. Two hands worth of claws sunk through the thin fabric of my shirt and into my flesh, grasping me tightly by each shoulder. The pathetic cry I let out didn't stop the rough throttling the alpha gave me.
     "Look at me!" Riya snarled in our tongue. Not daring to disobey, I forced open my swollen eyes to see her mere inches from my face.
     What she told me next was as much of a command as any Luka had ever given me. With a demanding growl to her voice and her fiery brown eyes locked with mine, the ballistic bird bellowed, "Submit!"
     Self-preservation was a very important part of life; today, however, I had thrown it out the window.
     I snarled back with all the strength my beaten body could muster. "Eat shit!"
    Riya's features contorted into that of rage. In the span of a second, a mouthful of deadly fangs digging into my upper arm signaled Riya's continued assault. Merciless, side-to-side shaking tore the holes in my flesh deeper and deeper, until I found myself howling and thrashing in her vice grip.
     Escape wasn't an option. Riya's claws were too deep in my shoulders, her jaw gripping too tightly on my arm, and her weight too expertly driving me into the carpeted floor.
     If I wanted to win, I needed to break. Break hard enough to shatter into a good bakers dozen pieces, so that I could pick up the biggest shards and stab them into Riya's throat.
     "Fuck you!" I spat at my alpha through the agony she was inflicting. The fleeting thought that it would be nearly impossible to clean up the puddles of my blood, which were now soaking into the carpet beneath our two squirming forms, almost worked to distract me from the feeling of wet claws contracting around my throat.
     "You need to learn to behave." Riya growled in English, employing a quiet contempt that reminded me too much of Samuel.
     No leniency was given to me while her noose-like grip made black spots consume my vision. When my sight was all but gone, the pressure lifted, leaving me to choke and gasp for air before a foot slammed into my chest.
     The owner of said foot took no time in spelling out her demands. "Stay put, or I will cut off one of your testicles with a sharpened tibia." And just like that, the alpha casually jumped from the fourth story as if she were going to take the trash out.
     "You're yunna fuying yie." A dazed Owen mumbled from a state that wasn't quite consciousness.
     "Yeah." I muttered back halfheartedly, my ears trained on the crescendoing sound of wing beats making their way back to us. Huddling into the wall wasn't something I was proud of, but it did give me a strategic advantage, and the most minuscule ounce of protection if Riya truly was bent on half-neutering me.
     It was there now. Just below the surface, the dusty little mason jar was just a few inches from my claws. I could feel it threatening to burst and unleash a rain of glass shards. It was so close.
     Part of me was terrified to snap. I didn't want to go back to solitary confinement, I didn't want to hurt anyone, but how could I live with myself if I didn't?
     Hurting Riya was the last thing I wanted to do. As much as she deserved all the pain I could bring to her, I didn't want to be like the people that hurt me. Reverting back to the way I had been before I met Luka terrified me. Was I sure I could pull myself back from the brink once I threw myself in headfirst?
     A landing hard enough to shake the fourth floor like an earthquake ripped me from my thoughts. Everything in me told me to keep my head down, to keep my profile low, to avoid the alpha's crosshairs at all costs. It wouldn't work, so why try?
     My head rose up to meet Riya's steaming gaze with all of the sizzling anger I could shove to the forefront of my mind. The alpha's mouth twisted in a grin that was nothing but fangs, letting a maddened chuckle trickle from her lips. Her right hand raised into the air to showcase what she had fetched.
     "A dear friend of yours gave this to me." Riya purred as if she was offering me a snack.
     Jaw agape, my lips opened and closed like a gasping fish. Turquoise eyes that brimmed with unshed tears locked on the length of braided leather clutched in the alpha's claws.
     "He told me that he had quite a good time with you using this. Is that true, Derrick?"
     Clenched fangs ground together abrasively. Even from four hearty yards away, the stink of bell peppers that clung to the whip stung my nose like mustard gas.
     "Answer me!" Riya commanded. The horrible crack of a whip sounded out only a foot to my left, making me cry out as if the vile leather really had struck me.
     Choking sobs swallowed my reply when she raised the whip once more. "Yes!" This wasn't supposed to be part of the equation— Samuel wasn't supposed to be part of the equation.
     In no more than five long strides, the deranged bird had covered the span of the platform. A clawed hand scraped my scalp as she knotted her red-painted fingers through my hair. Riya didn't pay the slightest mind to the claws that dug into her forearm as she dragged me back to the spot she had sat me in, a spotty trail of our mixing blood marking the path.
     "I'll save neutering you for later." The alpha hissed at me. A deformed smile and a wicked jolliness infected her words as she spoke. "Whipping you sounds like much more fun to me."
     It didn't take Riya more than one foot planted on my chest to keep me anchored to the floor. Beatings were something I was used to; when Samuel beat me, there wasn't so much as a spot of hope of getting out of it. Binds wrapped me head to toe like a boa constrictor to rob me of all chances of salvation.
     With the scent of Samuel drowning me, and Riya holding me down, and the agonizing slice of the whip into my wings, I couldn't help but feel thirteen again. Thirteen, terrified, and bite-happy. When I had mutilated a doctor's hand so badly that he had to have it amputated.
     Each unbearable lashing into the flesh of my wings, every strangled scream squeezing from my lungs, had me migrating towards the same thought: could I still inflict that much damage with just my teeth?
     In the heat of an onslaught that felt like it cut me down to the bone, I came to my conclusion.
What better time to find out?
     By just the skin of my fangs, I was able to snatch the unsuspecting jar of wrath. Pounding pressure built up inside my head, threatening to set off an explosion within the confines of the glass and take me with it.
     I didn't have that kind of time, though, so instead, I grabbed it in both hands and sent it soaring on a direct course to the linoleum that somehow encased every surface of my mind. Like a broken piggy bank spilling a river of coins, all of the cruelty I had experienced burst forth to ignite the rage I had been cowering from my entire life.
     Did Riya deserve to die? Maybe. But as the leather cord I loathed so much was sent hurtling towards me once again, everything inside of me was screaming yes, she does.
     The gash that ripped open my left hand was only an afterthought as I snatched the offending whip from the air. Shock that consumed Riya's features gave me a rush of satisfaction, and knowledge of what was to come fueled my beaten body to send the bird crashing to the ground with nothing more than a one-handed tug on the bloodied leather.
     Riya's plummet to the ground was about as graceful as a bulldozer tipping on its side. Darting out from under where she was set to collide with the soggy carpet, I turned her maladroit fall into a brutal impact by forcing her down faster with my clawed foot.
     Not a moment later, I was on her like white on rice. Jumping her was a treat I was sure I would never get; understandably, I would take great pleasure in beating the living daylights out of the psychopath that tormented my pack.
     Once I had my heel driven into Riya's back, I allowed myself to slip from the helm and felt my anger drive me.
     The struggling of the pinned lionheart was little more than a nuisance. Even as I favored one leg, wheezed as air entered my lungs, and saw my lacerated wings droop to the ground behind me, one sturdy knee pressing into Riya's spine was all it took to hold her in place. My good hand captured the alpha's frantically swiping wrists to press them into the soaked carpet above her head.
     Now, it was my teeth chattering up a storm. As I lowered myself over the now-hissing and spitting bird, the clicking fangs made their way next to her ear. A quick nip at delicate cartilage was all it took to get her undivided attention.
     "Thanks for getting me there, hun." I purred sweetly over the alpha's low growls, lapping at the trickle of red leisurely making its way down her skin. For the first time today, she wasn't speaking. "I think I prefer you much more when you're quiet and restrained."
     A single clack of teeth told me Riya wasn't happy.
     "What?" I hummed pleasantly, "You don't like the taste of your own medicine?" Fuming silence from the bird beneath me was like music to my ears.
     I could almost get used to this.
     "Forgive me," my voice cooed sarcastically, "This would be your medicine, wouldn't it?" The sound of claws tearing through flesh from the tops of Riya's shoulders to her mid-back like tissue paper was almost as savory as the sound of her screams. Being able to ride her thrashing frame like a wild mechanical bull was an added bonus.
     "Stop! Stop!" Riya snarled out through whining sobs that shook her entire body. Despite her pleading and her apparent agony, the bird fought exhaustively against my grip and against her own betraying sounds of weakness.
     "What, sweetheart?" My purred words were quickly joined by a very literal, very vibrating purr. "Is this too much for you?" The bird trapped underneath my weight funneled all of her strength into a single massive, spraying hiss, deciding she would rather curl her wings next to her quivering chest and whip her restrained frame around than cave in.
     Bloody nails rose to my lips. A curious tongue lolled out and cleaned them, my eyes almost rolling back in my head as I sampled the exotic taste of avian meat. Sadistic chuckles flowed from my mouth like a song I might sing to Luka, and I let my starved fangs clean flesh from under my claws as I bridled a bird with just one cramping hand and a bruised knee.
     "You're delicious." My drunken lips drawled as I rested my chin on top of the Riya's head. "May I have a bite?"
Bared, rattling fangs that the guilty bird snapped noisily weren't any semblance of a reply. "I'll take that as I yes." I decided merrily, before shifting my weight further into Riya. All of her meager body weight was thrown to and fro as if she hadn't earned this.
With a callous slowness that she had violated me with not a week earlier, my greedy fangs sunk into her tender, delicious, caramel-colored right shoulder.
Apparently, thirty-two needle-sharp fangs were all it took to break the bird's stony facade. Horrified, piercing screeches rang throughout the birdcage, making unwilling witnesses flinch back sympathetically, and flirting my eyes to roll shut in ecstasy.
Mouthwatering wouldn't begin to describe the taste of fresh meat. It had been nearly a decade since I had truly been able to experience and savor the act of taking down prey, and I was loving having Riya as reparation. I had half a mind to go ahead and cannibalize, if it weren't for her incessant squawking as I ate her.
Screaming, howling, yelping, shrieking, sobbing...
Can't you shut up already?
Rough back and forth shaking of the jaw should have been a fantastic cue; however, the bird I was fang-deep inside of wasn't quick to catch on-- she just screamed louder at the abuse.
Begrudgingly, I slipped my fangs from her torn-apart flesh. Her squirming started up again the moment I released her shoulder. My own bloodcurdling snarl prompted Riya's best effort: one puny growl that contained whatever dwarfish amount of fight she had left in her.
Despite being cut to almost uselessness, my left hand had five very important, very sharp reasons why it was now wrapped the defeated alpha's throat.
"Shut up!" I hissed to the gory harlot, unabashed as a spray of still-hot crimson from my lips painted her caramel skin. To my chagrin, the furious rumbling simply grew louder in her chest.
Undeterred claws curled around Riya's windpipe. The grumbles hastily died to lovely silence, goading a delighted laugh to filter from my mouth admist cherry-red streams.
"Good girl."
Two simple words shouldn't have felt so damn good on my tongue. If I hadn't known any better, I might have felt the slightest bit powerful at my newfound freedom of speech. An ounce of power, over Riya no less? That was comical.
I found myself consumed in a bought of sprightly giggling, my features twisted into an ugly mixture of disbelief and glee.
Pointed claws traced up and down the slick, sweating skin of her throat, enjoying the frenzied beat of her panicked heart. It was then that I decided to make my move.
"Submit." I commanded her. It was a throaty growl, one that easily reverberated through my chest and into hers, one that I had heard frequently from the alpha over the past two months.
At first, Riya snapped at me. She fought me with a disobedient bark, a thrashing, and a clamorous struggle, all of which I did not appreciate. The decision to put an end to her dominant attitude permanently was an easy one to make.
Lazily bleeding, but up for the task nonetheless, my left hand retreated from Riya's throat and to the base of her wings. Her twisting continued until dirtied claws gripped a tight hold on her most sensitive limb.
"Submit!" The order seemed to carry more weight this time around.
Still, Riya put up her best fight, this time adding a snarled, "Get off of me!" to the mix.
The thought that maybe I was too eager to rip into the dictator's flesh struck me for a millisecond; however, remembering the countless beatings she handed out to her pack like lousy Halloween candy soon convinced me otherwise.
My claws ran to and slipped into the frail flesh of her wings like a finger into jello. The screaming was immediate and intense, all of my weight hardly able to restrain the unstrung lionheart. Wounds that Riya had sliced into my own throbbing wings stung at the mere thought of more injury, but I refused to hesitate as one leg was thrown over her jerking limb to hold it steady.
About the same amount of remorse that Riya had given us in the past was now being given to her by me. Not a drop of empathy found its way into my heart as I let my nails cut strips a foot long out of the alpha's flesh.
"Submit!" I offered again, more for her sake than mine. This time, Riya faltered in her conviction, simply shaking her head no and burying it in her trembling arms like a turtle ducking its head into its shell.
"Come on, Riya," I hummed calmly, as if I hadn't just crippled her like she had me, "Give in. I'm not going to stop."
"Burn in hell," was the only answer the cowering bird was able to muster.
"Suit yourself." I sighed, resuming my carving nonchalantly.
All it took was another four minutes of stabbing and clawing for the alpha to hit her brick wall. The sniveling and whimpering became unbearably grating on my keen ears, eventually prompting a deep groan from me.
  "You deserve this." I informed the quivering bird, "And quite frankly, I do too."
"Maybe you didn't realize what you were doing to us. What you did to me." My words, laced with equal parts pain and transparency, flowed with my train of thought as I let my nails gently slip from a mass of shredded feathers. "You raped me, Riya. Over and over and over. You stole parts of me that I can never get back."
At first, I hadn't thought Riya found my words worthy of a response. After a few ruined, previously-silky feathers had been roughly plucked from the downed bird's wings, she seemed to find her voice.
If there had been any crack in my resolution, I wouldn't have been able to survive the guilt that should have come with her rasping tone. Broken, defeated, powerless, and riddled with a conviction that wasn't hers, Riya whispered, "Derrick, I'm sorry."
"Who are you trying to convince?" I chuckled dismissively. This time, she didn't respond.
A sigh that was almost on the edge of contrite left me. "Riya," I cooed softly, "I'm going to give you one last chance." Clicking teeth that were more likely caused by a quivering chin than any measure of want sounded out from beneath me.
Aggression was a surprisingly effective method of stress relief. Where there had once been a lake simmering rage trapped inside of me, the last few droplets of anger evaporate into nothingness; now, the seeds of guilt and pity were sluggishly taking root. I knew what I was doing to Riya— almost what she had done to me. I was stripping her of her autonomy.
With a deep breath in, a heavy sigh out, and a moment of pushing down a slowly-growing shame, I leaned over Riya's unsteady frame to speak into her ear. Remorse pushed me to nuzzle against the terrified lionheart's unharmed shoulder and release her wrists from my death grip.
"Please," I implored Riya through a small growl in our shared tongue, "submit."
There was a moment of silence. What I experienced as a lifetime of held breath passed in what must have been nothing more than half a minute. Eventually, a faint, inhuman whine left the bloodied lionheart.
"I submit."