I Am No Prey

8- Never Yield

"Looks like I was right, sweetheart."

And those were the six words I never wanted to hear out of his mouth again. It only deteriorated the condition of my head which was hurt with confusion and questions.

"Right about what?" I inquired sternly, "Maybe you made them give me so much of that regrowth formula that it warped the wings."

I didn't know what was worse, whether knowing that I was one of them from birth – that was only possible if I was adopted – or that I was something completely different. I realized abruptly that the pain was gone completely, and not even a whisper of it was left. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I was never in any pain, to begin with. I felt different. My body seemed different. I felt stronger as if I had been pumped on adrenaline, and the lights seemed brighter, I could smell the medicine, and the sterile smell of the room seemed stronger. Everard's scent of pinewood and sage was infinitely stronger even though he hadn't moved at all. He was almost three feet away so that smell shouldn't be that strong.

"You're not a Drakhenae or a human. You're the experiment from Operation Phoenix."

I stared at him, my mouth agape, then I snapped it shut and scowled. "I'm not an experiment."

He waved his hand. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not the experiment."

"Prove it."

"You don't prove a negative, idiot."

In a blink, I was slammed to the wall, his hand on my throat. I had to look up to see him since he seemed to be at least five inches taller. I couldn't remember the last time I had to look that up. "You can waste my time denying everything I say, or you can cooperate, and you won't spend your life here in chains. It's that easy."

"What? You're threatening me now?"

"I'm giving you a choice."

"That is not a choice," I snapped back. Then added, "Idiot."

His nostrils flared, and his gaze darkened. What right did he have to be angry? I glared right back and snarled. Because of him, my world was turned upside down and had no way of righting itself. I realized that I was seething, my fisted hands shaking. And something in me woke up. This time I knew I wasn't hallucinating when the shadows on the walls began to move, snaking across the room before they sprung on Everard, taking the shape of a willowy creature that wrapped its hands on his throat. He watched them, eyes wide.

He stepped back and let me go. I stared at the shadows quite inquisitive and reached out to touch one bony finger, but I only ended up touching Everard's skin. So I was right, they didn't have an actual physical form. The previous fury boiling in me disappeared, and then they let him go and slithered back, becoming normal once again.

"Amazing."

I turned my attention to Everard and blinked twice. The shadows were choking him mere seconds ago, and he just said amazing?

"What was that?"

He shrugged. "You should know that you did it." Then he nodded, agreeing to his own words, "So your anger triggers the shadows."

I stared at him. And stared a few seconds longer.

"You purposely got me mad."

He turned around and looked at me. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It was as if he found hope for something. I was exhausted and wanted him to leave. I looked to the bed and grimaced. It was half-covered in a carmine-colored fluid which I realized was blood – my blood. Oh well, I'd just sleep on the floor.