"I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough" - Doll Poetry

∞

A cold gust of wind slammed into me, nearly throwing me off the bench and down several steps. I fixed my hair, pulling strands out of my lip gloss and laying it down straight. The stands were magically heated but that didn't stop the freezing New England air from cutting through our layers. I pressed myself to Ibet in hopes of stealing some of her heat. It didn't radiate off of her like it did with Paris, and I found myself unsatisfied and desperate for warmth.

Paris was out on the field, riding his white dragon alongside his team. The creature was huge, spanning twenty feet and making Paris seem minuscule atop him. Clair was farther down, his double headed serpent biting and snapping the opposing players in defense. That was his position; defense. Shortly put, he did all the dirty work so Paris can have a clear pathway to score. Typical. But Clair enjoyed the sport, as did Cera, so I kept my mouth shut about my opinion on the ridicule of it all.

Paris' jersey hung loose on my figure, the white and red garb nearly swallowing me whole. A black turtle neck was layered underneath it, the frigid weather no host for short sleeved attire. I had a button up underneath my chunky turtleneck too, finding my body heat increasingly difficult to maintain. My fingernails had turned a bruised blue, my spiderweb of veins extra-pronounced against my near-translucent skin.

Ibet was not reading for once, instead watching the field attentively. It seemed everybody enjoyed this blasted sport besides me. She was adorned in the black and red of Clair's uniform, and so was Cera. I was the only one in white, Paris' head captain uniform standing out against the rows of black. The color was supposed to be a dignitary, distinguishing him against the other team players, but all it did was make me want to sink through my seat.

Cera decided to put her own twist on her black uniform, shrinking it and tying it up in a knot to reveal her toned midriff. It was cute and she looked like a cheerleader, with black stripes painted under her eyes. It was Ibet's warming charms that kept us all from losing fingers.

The crowd suddenly erupted into applause, with even Ibet jumping up in excitement. She clapped excitedly as Cera was hollering and whooping. I guess Paris made another goal then. For the sixth time today. Or maybe not a goal. Maybe he went through the hoops, or something. I didn't know or particularly care about how the game worked, my mind not wrapping around the ins and outs of the complex sport. It was all too complicated, as one might expect a game with twenty ton dragons would be.

Paris flew a circle around the huge field, his muscular arm pumping in the air triumphantly. The crowd reacted uproariously, screaming in reply. I remained seated, my arms crossed over my chest partially from the cold, partially from my unimpressed state. He had definitely scored. Triumph suited his complexion well. I could tell by the victorious, glowing pride on his face as I observed him through my golden spectacles. And then, amidst his winning moment, Paris made direct eye contact with me. I quickly dropped my spectacles from my face, embarrassed that I was caught watching him. The fool began flying towards me.

I shook my head at him as he neared my section, trying to warn him off whatever he was planning on doing. I quickly raised my spectacles again, trying to see what he was playing at. Through my golden binoculars, I could see the glow of pride of his rosy face, his cheeks red and smile wild. His blonde hair was disheveled from the wind and strands were plastered to his forehead. He had determination and mischief on his face- an impish looking promising me trouble. I grabbed Ibet's and Cera's arms, dragging them infront of me. I nearly was on Ibet's back as I tried to hide behind her, using my two best friends to block me from sight. It was no use, I had already been spotted.

A huge gust of wind hit us with a flap of Paris' wyverns wings, and I nearly toppled back. I cringed, sitting back in my seat in defeat. Paris was flying by slowly, waving at me as he neared. I plastered a fake smile onto my cheeks as dozens of girls screamed from the lower rows. They turned to look at me as Paris planted himself right in front of me. I wanted to cover my face with embarrassment. My face turned hot in humiliation, the pressure rising in my head and preventing me from thinking clearly. The overwhelming urge to kneel over and die was becoming all the more prominent.

Paris' dragon was now flying in place, hovering infront of my section of the stands. Connecting the dots, or quite literally connecting the two white jerseys, students started turning to look at me in confusion. He was close enough that I could see his expression, and he looked absolutely euphoric. Why wouldn't he be? He was the star rider of the fray team, they were winning by a landslide, and hundreds of his fans were screaming his name in adoration.

Our eyes locked and his smile widened even further. It was as if it was contagious- that stupid look on his face making my own lips tug up ever-so slightly. He looked so ridiculous that it was humorous. And then he did the unthinkable. He placed his hand on his heart, and then brought it to his lips. He kissed his fingers, before throwing his hand out towards me, as if he was giving me an air kiss. He was reaching out towards me as if begging for my hand, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

I realized what he was doing with a start, making me nearly laugh aloud. He was obviously mocking those over-dramatic couples that made ridiculous gestures of affection in public. Proposals on the field and declarations of love infront of entire crowds, usually through song. Moronic, sick-in-love show-offs who couldn't help but shove it down everybody's throats. So that was the kind of couple Paris and I were. Huh.

To those around us, it looked like Paris was reaching out towards me, the action being an expression of his presumed affection for me. It made me cackle, a shocked laugh trilling from my throat. He was mocking them, right under their noses. My fingers splayed out over my lips, trying to hide my amused smile as an idea came to me.  I decided to take it a step forward.

Suddenly jumping up from my seat, I reached forward towards him. I snatched the air, pretending to catch his air-kiss in my hand, before pressing  it to my heart and swooning. I placed a hand to my forehead as if I were about to faint.  Ibets strong arms were suddenly around me as I collapsed onto her, my "feeble" disposition completely overwhelmed by his show of affection. A smile was on my face, as I opened my eyes after a few seconds, only to find Paris staring at me. I rolled my eyes at him, still smiling.

'Are you happy now?' I mouthed at him. He had a cheeky grin on his face. He mouthed something back, and I narrowed my eyes trying too figure out what 'Amo-to-we tea-why-dead, my dove' meant.

I suddenly realized he said: 'Absolutely delighted, my love'

My face morphed up into a disgusted sort of shock. My nose scrunched up as I gave him a petty smile, before throwing him a rude gesture.

He was laughing at me, obviously expecting the crude reaction, his head was tilted back in the light. The sun had miraculously peaked through the clouds, catching on the glint of his golden hair. It shined down on him as his chest shook, making him practically glow. I couldn't hear his laugh over the roaring noise, but the sight of it was...innocent. Pure. Something completely untarnished.
I was jerked with the thought that he looked like an angel - a cherub in a renaissance painting. I couldn't help but make the comparison, despite how strange it was to do so. He looked the part in his golden, Adonic glory.

Paris finally flew off in a great gust of wind, waving good bye at me before rejoining the game. His teammates were hollering at him, making crude gestures and slamming into him in a good natured way. I could tell they were making fun of him- rightfully so- for his little love-sick presentation. Clair did not participate, and I could see the sour expression on his face through my golden spectacles.

I glanced at Cera, who shared the same expression. Her eyebrows were pinched and her full mouth was set into a firm line. The sight made my stomach sink a small bit, as my smile quickly fell. I glanced at Ibet, who was also watching me strangely. She had a suspicious look on her face, and my smile faded completely.

"What?" I asked her. She tilted her head to the side, as my stomach churned. I felt a bit nauseous.

"Nothing" She said, giving me a small smirk, turning back to the game. I ignored her, also watching the field attentively. With the blow of the air horn, the game began anew. My eyes could not keep up with all of the dragons, so I stuck them to one in particular. I watched as Paris cut through the multiple wyverns, the golden ball secured under his dragons claws. He was going straight for the golden torch, attempting to score through the hoop.

Before I could even realize what was going on, a player from the opposite team slammed into the body of his white dragon. I couldn't see who it was, till my spectacles managed to zoom in on his face. The rider on top of the black steed, was one that I recognized.

Montgomery Kaur was one of my mistakes long in coming. He was a childhood acquaintance, running in some of the same circles as I. Monty was affluent and attractive, and best of all- indifferent to the point of cruelty. Considering this, alongside his dark, gorgeous demeanor, he was the perfect candidate for company. I kept him for some time, until he decided that he would become unbearably clingy and obsessed with me. Our endeavors were short lived after that. Nowadays, I preferred his girlfriends company to his.

Now I watched Montgomery slam into Paris, his dark steed snapping as Monty attacked Paris in full force. Paris didn't relent, still going forward despite the force puishing him to the side.

People were shouting all around us, screaming out in Paris' support. Cera was up in her seat, screaming her head off with obscenities. After receiving several bad looks from professors, I yanked her arm down, forcing her to return to her seat.

"Will you calm down" I hissed at her, shooting her a dirty look. I myself leaned forward watching the fight unfold with tension in my shoulders. They were hundreds of feet in the air. If Monty threw Paris off, he surely would plummet, his dragon unable to regain momentum. The Catchers- the Mages established to catch any falling players- were tensed, waiting for the fall.

Through my spectacles, I could see that Paris' was biting his lip in concentration as the bastard refused to let up. And then Montgomery Kaur snapped at Paris' steed, the white wyvern dropping the ball in a state of panic. That was a foul. That had to be. I jumped up for a better view, my personal vendetta against Monty partially fueling my anger. The golden ball continued dropping, as Paris did the unthinkable: he plummeted after it.

"Come on, get up, get up, get up" I muttered, watching him  and his dragon dive straight down, it's wings folded around it for speed. Paris had talked about this: aerodynamic resistance. But if his dragon didn't open it's wings fast enough, they would crash into the ground. I couldn't beliven my eyes as Montgomery followed in Paris' stead, diving for the ball. They were throat to throat, and I found myself acting out like a complete, blundering idiot: I began screaming, cheering Paris on.

"Come on, Paris! Get the bloody ball!" I screamed, and Ibet jumped in shock, her green eyes wide as she stared at me. Cera did no such thing, jumping up and starting to scream right alongside me. Nobody noticed of course, the entire audience screaming, but it was as though Paris heard me, because he began gaining some speed on Monty. And then Montgomery's steed started snapping again.

"KICK HIS ASS PARIS! KICK HIS ASS!" I began screaming anew, hollering like a lunatic. I didn't care, because the second I started screaming, Paris' white wyvern began snapping back.  Rage fueled victory. It was scientifically proven.

When Paris' dragon reclaimed the ball, catching it mid air and using its wings like a parachute to stop the fall, I was screaming my vocal chords out.

"SMEAR HIM ON THE PAVEMENT! BEAT HIS ASS! BEAT HIS LOSER ASS, PARIS!"

And Paris somehow heard it, because as he was flying back up, his eyes caught with mine. I shut my mouth promptly, but he had seen and heard enough, and flew off smiling in the most bemused manner. Someone murder me. My mood was not tarnished though, as I sat down out of breath and excited. When Paris made the second to last goal, I was screaming alongside the rest of the crowd.

I turned to see Ibet staring at me, and I quickly wiped the smile from my face.

"You were cheering for him" Ibet stated. My face turned stony as I devoid my expression of any emotion. I was caught. My shadows were humming, using up their strength to leech me of my anxiety. The greasy feeling in my stomach quickly drained, instead being filled up with the cool indifference of my shadows. When the nerve-wracking sensation was out of my system, I gave her a calculated smile.

"Well he is my boyfriend" I stated, my tone jeering, still hoping to revolve this confrontation by passing it off as a joke. Ibet did not fall for it. Instead, she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at me, her green, feline eyes catching on the change of my expression.

"Not like this" She asked in a calculating, quiet manner, "You weren't like this with him before"

"And what exactly do you mean by 'this'? I don't exactly follow" I told her, looking back to the field. I pretended to watch the other wyvern team, making sure to avoid Paris. My eyes caught on him anyways, the same way the sun seemed to follow him around the field. It was hard to ignore his presence, when it practically demanded your attention. Even without the sun spotlighting him, the way his sleek dragon moved, swerving with cunning speed and faultless moves, made you mesmerized. Though his family name most definitely helped, I could tell his position as team captain was earned with his talent.

"You care about him" She stated in contemplation, as if voicing her thoughts aloud. Her eyes were narrowed as the thought occurred to her. I glanced at her sharply.

"I do not"

"It looks like you do" She retorted, and I scoffed.

"Then I've done my job too well" I stated with a finality that left no room for argument. It was foolish to expose Paris and I's plan, but I found myself unable to keep it from her. The thought of her believing I cared about him, disturbed me more than her knowing about our ruse. She glanced at me curiously, question on her face.

"Our relationship is fake, Ibet. I'm using him" I told her, my tone indifferent as I observed my sharp nails. Ibet's thick eyebrows furrowed as she glanced between me and Paris on the field. Another cold gust of wind slammed into us, nearly throwing me off the risers.

"I knew it!" Cesarie jumped in from the opposite side of me. Ibet shot her a withering glare, as if telling her to shut her mouth. I waved her off with my numb hand.

"Let her be. It doesn't matter. As I stated, I don't care about him. It's no secret that I'm using him for his reputation and his power. Paris is well aware of this"

"What do you need a Sun Mage's power for?" Ibet asked me quietly, as if refusing to believe me. I gave her a cold smile.

"Not his magical power, Ibet" I told her, raising my eyebrows at her naivety, "His power in society. Nobody would dare question the intention of our darling heir of light, our golden-boy Arobynn. He's a perfect scapegoat"

She looked at me disappointed, "Does he know of this?"

"Yes, he does"

She glanced at me for a very long time, before speaking, "No, he doesn't"

My smile became strained as I prickled in irritation. It was none of her business. I looked back at the field, not bother to ask her for clarification. I knew what she meant. She left the words unspoken, that Paris didn't feel the same way I did about this arrangement.

"What do you mean he doesn't? He doesn't know?" Cera piped in, in typical Zhifeng manner, always poking her nose where it doesn't belong, always shoving her way into conversations that didn't concern her. I didn't look at either of them as Ibet replied to her.

"No, he doesn't know. He may be aware of their arrangement, but that doesn't mean he knows about her intentions. He wouldn't be looking at her like that if he knew" Ibet stated solemnly.

"Like what?" She asked. I wanted to slap her across the face. Maybe then she'd learn to mind her business.

"Like nothing" I snapped at the both of them, crossing my arms over my chest. Her blatant criticizing made my hackles rise, hating the feeling of her disappointment. The analysis on Paris also made me disgusted, making my jaw clench in anger. The game had lost all enjoyment for me.

"He looks at you like you're his sun, Eulalia" She deadpanned, her eyes looking at me like I was a unbelievable, "And you know it"

I took a deep breath, allowing my shadows to drain me of all my emotion before speaking. It was difficult getting past my unignorable rage and disgust.

"A passing smile means nothing", I gave her a bitter, cruel laugh, "And what does it matter whether he sees me as his sun. The sun is still a star, and all stars die out, no matter how brightly they burn. It's only a matter of time before the same happens to whatever he thinks he feels for me. It is not my fault he let himself be delusioned so easily"

She gave me a disappointed look in her eyes, "He cares about you-"

"Which only he is to blame for" I quickly cut her off, "I did nothing to entertain such thoughts. I've told him since day one that I cannot stand him. It's his fault for not believing in the sincerity of my statement"

Cera was silent, and Ibet said nothing. I regretted ever coming to this game. When Paris scored the final and winning score, I was in no mood for celebrating. With the crowd, I made our way down to the field, with the full intention to flee. The crowd moved slowly, people chattering vivaciously. I wanted to burn all of them for not letting me go, forcing me to stay here for a moment longer.

I stomped my way down to the main field, and attempted to quietly slip out. As predicted, girls besotted with Clairmont flocked around him. He looked uncomfortable past his charming smile. Maybe if he wasn't such an adulterer, he wouldn't have to use his friends to fight his past inamorata's off with sticks, attempting to keep them at bay.  He deserved to be castrated; it would be a community service.

I stormed off to the side, my mouth set into a displeased purse. My arms were wrapped around me as I thought about Ibet's words, a sinking feeling in my stomach that I could not shake off. My shadows were working, but they were not working fast enough. And then I heard my name shouted by the one person I wanted to avoid right now. My body was lifted up into the air into a crushing hug before I could even turn around.

Paris' familiar scent of vanilla engulfed me as he spun me around, before planting a kiss on my forehead. To anyone else, this might have come off as a normal display of affection. We were a couple after all, so it was no surprise. But when Paris placed me back down onto the floor, he quickly caught sight of my expression. After all the cheering and the flirting done on the field, he obviously expected a different greeting.

"Put me down" I said tightly, brushing myself off. 

His excited expression fell, and I felt a prickle of guilt for ruining his moment. He should be happy, and here I was spoiling it for him. I stepped back after he placed me down, glancing nervously around the field. Anywhere but him.

"What's wrong?" Paris asked me. His concern sickened me anew. It was none of his business to know when I was upset. He shouldn't be able to tell. I was slipping. 

"Nothing" I tried to say emotionlessly. My reply was hardly convincing, so I added on a, "Good job" 

My words were stiff and lacked sentiment. Paris just glanced down at me with his eyebrows knit together.

"Thanks..." he drawled, "Listen, if this is about the whole kiss thing, you gave me permission to-"

"It's not about anything. We're a couple. It's expected of you" I quickly cut him off, not wanting to go into this conversation with him. He shifted on his feet uncomfortable.

"I have to go" I blurted out, not being able to bear his presence. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, may chest tightening in panic with each passing second. I looked around the field for any excuse to leave, before catching eyes with Montgomery from across the field. He was standing next to his girlfriend, Isis, who we seemed to share for the same extents and purposes.

It felt unnecessarily cruel to leave Paris right after his winning game, but I could not breathe around him. I didn't necessarily want to ruin this event for him, but if I did, maybe it would freeze his heart towards me. If he hated me, he did not have any room to like me. And it was easier to deal with hate than adoration. I was more familiar with the previous than I knew how to handle the latter. It was better for everyone.

"Bye" I quickly said, before practically running away from him. I made my way across the field, leaving Paris standing there alone. Ibet caught my eye as I made my way over, and I sent her a withering glare.The unimpressed look she gave me simultaneously enraged me and sent shame seeping through me. My shadows did not know what to do with shame. I had not felt it in a very long time.

I popped my knuckles in an attempt to stop my hands from shaking, my body's reaction to shame bringing a flood of unwanted memories. Yes, shame had negative connotations to it, and I would rather feel nothing at all than to feel at fault. Shame had never done me any justice.

"Hello, Eulalia" Montgomery drawled at me once I neared. His dark eyes openly roved me over, as Monty batted his longer-than-life eyelashes. In typical Arab fashion, his thick, dark hair was ridiculously gorgeous and shiny, displaced by the wind, as he ran a bronzed hand through it.

I then openly ignored him, instead turning to Isis. She was watching me expectantly, her stunning grey eyes holding all sorts of suggestive looks.

"Hello, Isis Al-Mehet" I drawled, quirking my lips. She was taller than me, towering over at five-feet and seven inches. Sometimes she even wore high heels, presenting herself even higher like a statuesque goddess. Her dark brown hair was perfectly blown out as she flipped it over her shoulder.

"Hello, Eulalia" her red lips quirked. I suddenly remembered the appeal in them. Nights of kissing those lips sent a hungry shock through me. She knew what I was feeling, considering the fact that she was the one who just sent the wave of lust towards me. As an empath, she had a gift in warping people's emotions. She was doing it to me now even, making me mad with lust.

"Don't you dare project emotions onto me" I growled at her, making my shadows drain my emotions just as quick. Isis let out an amused laugh, her light voice ringing like bells. 

"You did not come here to steal my girlfriend" Monty caught on, evident disbelief in his voice. He had expected me to come over here and have a cat fight over him. Leave it to him to have such a narrow imagination. He did not realize that he was not the prize in either of our eyes.

I did not break eye contact with Isis as I told him, "She's not your girlfriend, Montgomery"

"Fine, well then your boyfriend looks like he's going to come here and smash my face in, and I rather like my face, so leave" He pointed out. This time, my eyes strayed from Isis' face. I glanced over at Paris. He was standing next to Philippa St James and some of his other riding friends on the fray team. He was glaring at me as we briefly made eye contact, his jaw ticking.

"He's not my boyfriend" I said absentmindedly, narrowing my eyes at him, reciprocating his rage. He had no right to be mad at me. He was the one acting like a fool, making people like Ibet tell me such disgusting filth. He looked at me like I was the sun? Fine. Lower your eyes and look the away.

I turned around, seething as I asked Isis, "You want to get out of here?"

Her eyes lit up at the offer as they usually did. Monty, on the other hand, could not handle this.

"Nuh-Uh" He demanded, stepping between us, "You are not going together and leaving me here"

I glanced up at him, his chest in my face as he blocked my sight from Isis. I stepped to the side, and made eye contact with her again. Her face broke out into a smile, the undeniable attraction we had for eachother tethering us into place. She obviously had part to do with it, being an empath and having the ability to manipulate emotions, but I could tell that some of the desire was undoubtedly coming from me. I did not need her body. I needed her magic, and she was excited by the aspect just as much as I. 

"If you want to come, fine" Isis began, her siren-like voice lilting seductively, "But do not expect us to provide you any release. You will be responsible for your own entertainment"

"What, like watch?" Montgomery asked. I rolled my eyes. He ruined the moment. He was a fool, not having pieced together yet that we were not going to do anything remotely carnal, but magical. I needed Isis to drain me dry of my emotions, and she loved feeding off people. 

"Do what you wish, but my main focus will not be you" She told him, not breaking eye contact with me. It sent shivers down my arms, but I felt a prickle of guilt somewhere deep inside me. Isis narrowed her eyes. I could see the displeasure written on the tight purse of her lips.

She did not like being rejected, or in any sense, not entirely captivating a soul. I was thinking about something else, and now she would throw herself completely into bewitching me. I could see it written all over her face, and it sent shivers down my back. Christ, she was going to leave me in shambles.

∞

I collapsed in a panting, quivering mess. My bare chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, my white blouse unbuttoned, a sheen of sweat covering my hot skin. My limbs were tired and strained, overexerted from Isis' avid enthusiasm. 

Isis crawled on top of me. She had a vulpine smile on her lips, grinning at me like the she-devil she was. My skin covered in goosebumps as she licked her crimson lips, and hummed appreciatively. 

I collapsed back, as she continued crawling. My head knocked back, finding that I had no strength to hold it up and stare down at her. It was too much. I couldn't handle it. Which was exactly what she was going for. I felt like a rag wrung dry. 

My blouse was ripped open and buttons scattered beneath me, my black bra wet from sweat. Paris' jersey was strewn across the floor somewhere, forgotten during our seance.  My torso was completely exposed as Isis climbed a top me, collapsing over my body. She pressed skin to skin, and groaned appreciatively at the hum of emotions that soaked into her skin from mine, finally planting a soft kiss on my collarbones. It was the first. A prize for good behavior. 

Isis was an empath, and along with manipulating and feeling others emotions, she managed to derive pleasure from them too.  She would amplify it by hundreds, and then use our bodies to share the feeling to herself. Right now, she using me as her main target, having spent the last hour plastering herself to my bare skin, absorbing my potent emotions for her own energy source. And Gods did it feel euphoric.

I couldn't think properly, my eyes flashing from static as I tried to focus, every feeling I had being amplified and then drained of me. The rapid shift of emotions made disoriented and unable to think straight.  I bit my lip and knocked my head back again. I was burning, and Isis ate it right up.

 Another appreciative moan escaped her as her hands plastered over the revealed skin at my ribs. She had avoided grabbing my neck, and spent most of the seance with her hands laid flat out on my sternum, like defibrillators. Each time she drew energy in one big heave, my chest jerked upwards, feeling as though my soul was leaving my body.  I had to remind myself to breathe while she worked. 

After several moments of Isis and coming down from our high, Isis finally sat up on shaking arms. She pecked my lips gently, warmth filling my every sense. It was gift from her; the feeling of warmth and pleasure rushing through me was supposed to be a parting gift. A cookie after donating blood to vampyr blood banks. Positive reinforcement for my efforts. It was a miracle Monty, who had been watching the entire interaction, didn't whine to get one too, though he hardly deserved it; he spent the entire seance observing and attending to his own urges. My lips curled up in disgust. 

"I forgot how wonderful you are" she said to me in a low, breathless tone. Her breath tickled my neck.

"Don't forget then" I told her back quietly, attempting to hide my breathlessness too. She trailed designs into my skin, making the hair rise on my arms. She felt it too, which is why she did it. She was soaking it all up like the hungry serpent that she was. Everything she did was for her own cause. She wanted to feel pleasure, and she decided to do it through me. 

 Isis and I were sprawled across one large desk in the front of the room, as if we were on a stage. It was Clauwd's lab table, one she used for her lectures in apothecary and toxicology. I had brought them to this classroom specifically with a spitefulness in mind. I still was bitter over Belldame Clauwd forcing me to scrub her classroom. I hope she enjoyed her cleanliness upon discovering Montgomery's man-juices all over her classroom. The thought made me cackle with delight.

"You two are so delightful" Monty murmured from the desk he was sat leaning against, completely soiling the calm atmosphere Isis had established. We attempted to ignore him, but he continued, making me grit my teeth, "Once you two are done, maybe I can slip in-"

"We're done" I snapped, sitting up. The mood was ruined. Isis felt it too, and I half-pitied Monty with the look she was shooting him. Her grey eyes were flared, looking like she was going to claw his face out with her manicured nails, for spoiling our fun. My body was still buzzing with lazy pleasure though, and I touched a hand to Isis, spreading the feeling to her. She visibly relaxed, closing her eyes. Once the feeling faded, absorbing fully into her skin, I sat up. I wanted nothing of it, instead opting to be alert and sharp. She could enjoy the lazy pleasure if she pleased. 

She had done a good job. My shadows had been less and less effective lately with draining me dry. Isis' magic would last me for a bit. The sharp feeling of emptiness made me feel alive again. 

Isis was glowing as she lay sprawled on the desk, looking as though she were in a trancelike state. I picked up my shredded blouse, pouting at the wreckage. Several buttons were scattered across the floor. I threw it to the side, instead grabbing my turtle neck. I slipped it on, before summoning Paris' jersey.

I didn't put it on though. It felt...wrong, after I had just been with someone else. There was nothing inherently sexual about what Isis and I had just done, but it was intimate. I gave her access to my entire soul. I laid myself bare to her, which somehow felt worse than infidelity. If it was infidelity, that is, since I was technically not in a relationship with Paris. I owed him no loyalty. Still, my lips tugged down into a displeased frown at the uncomfortable feel of guilt sinking in my stomach. Isis sat up, giving me the side eye. I looked away sharply, refusing to deal with her. It was none of her business what I felt.  

I finger-comed my hair down, attempting to bring myself to a collected state, one that didn't look like I was stomped on by the fat foot of a dragon. A single glance into the mirror confirmed my suspicions: I looked wrecked. My makeup was smeared, my eyeliner smudged out and Isis' red lipstick imprinted all over my mouth and collarbones. No inch of skin was left unblemished. My hair was frizzy and messy, sticking in directions it wasn't supposed to. Even my eyes looked guilty: wide, as if caught in the act of a crime.

Isis, for some reason, looked so much better than me. Her lip stick was not smeared, not a single strand of her wavy, dark brown hair out of place. The only indication that she was entangled in my limbs only moments before, was her lack of clothing. She lay leisurely on the desk in her underclothes, with no urgency to dress. I suspected she was doing it purposefully, to bait Monty. He had approached her and was speaking, but I payed no mind to them, focusing on quickly dressing.

I tussled into my skirt, and was in the middle of buttoning it up, when the door slammed open. A whoosh of cold air flooded the room, making goosebumps cover my bare skin. And then I caught eyes with Paris, and my body chilled further. His gaze scanned over the ramshackle state of the room, a nude Isis on the desk, me buttoning up my skirt and covered in lipstick marks, and Monty, who was- for the love of the Mother- Monty who was doing his best to look smug, as though he were a participant. I was going to kill him, if Paris didn't kill me first.

Without saying a single word, he slammed shut the door. A sick feeling squeezed my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. I struggled in remembering that I wanted this. I had wanted to make him resentful towards me. But not like this. I had not wanted him to walk in on it. Or maybe I did, and I now regretted it.

"Uh oh. Golden boy is mad" Isis purred, clearly amused with my predicament. I shot her the dirtiest, foulest glare I could muster, before scrambling out the door after him. He had not gone far, waiting just outside the door for me. I quickly slammed it shut behind me, not wanting Isis and Monty to witness this.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?!" Paris shouted at me. I couldn't help but flinch at the furiously dark look in his eyes. His eyes were practically black from how much they had dilated from anger. I pried my eyes open, forcing myself to look at him. The grimace on my expression, along with my hands raised, made me look like a scolded child. I quickly dropped my hands.

"First you're suddenly mad for no reason after the game, and then you run off with Kaur? Why?! For what reason?!" Paris demanded. I didn't reply, staring at the floor guiltily as I dragged my feet. Again. I reminded myself of a child. I caught his angry gaze again, and refrained from shrinking away. I had no reason. I had no reason that I could explain to him, atleast. He wouldn't understand. He would interpret it as me being purposefully cruel. Which it was. But for his own good. I ran off with his rival for his own good. Mother, I sounded like a lunatic.

"I never- why would you- with my rival of all people! With my rival!" Paris outraged, so enraged that he couldn't form complete sentences. The fact that he believed I was involved with Montgomery disgusted me. Did he honestly think so little of me? My hackles rose at his repeated verbal assaults. I refused to allow myself to be demeaned and berated, especially infront Monty and Isis. They had stepped out into the hall at the sound of yelling.

"And in a classroom in the main hall too? Not even your room, but a classroom where anybody could walk in?! Where anybody could see you!" He outraged at me, thinking that particular decision was an intentional act of my cruelty, done solely to hurt him.

"Not everything is about you, Paris. I chose the classroom because I don't bring people into my room" I grit out at him. 

"I've slept in your room!" He pointed out. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed he said it to make Montgomery jealous. But the betrayed look on his face made it clear that he was most definitely not thinking of Monty at the moment. I was the brunt of his anger. Of course I was. Monty didn't owe him loyalty, but I did. Or at least he assumed I did.

"Not like that, and you know it. That was different" I grit out at him through bared teeth, my tone hushed. It was different. I didn't sleep with people in my room, he meant that I didn't sleep while people were in my room. Two completely different meanings. Disbelief flickered onto Paris' expression, and he stepped back as if I had slapped him. The disappointed anger on his face made me want to slap him.

"Right. Of course. Not like that. Because a scenario like that with me is so unimaginable to you, that you seem to have forgotten altogether that I'm a boy too. You must not even consider me a person then, if I'm allowed to be an exception to your rule" Hit grit out bitterly. I sputtered, my eyebrows furrowed, having not the slightest clue on how to reply. What was I even supposed to say to that? What did that have to do with anything??

Paris didn't give me a chance to even understand what he meant by that, something diverting his attention from me. I turned around, to see Montgomery walking out of the classroom doorway. His hair was a hot mess, a sleazy, lazy smile fixated on his pretty face. His collar was disheveled, his toned upper torso visible through the incorrectly buttoned shirt. How the hell did he manage to do that, when nobody touched him the entire time we were together? He did it purposefully, I realized. Montgomery Kaur was never one to admit he went into a room with two ridiculously attractive females, and be completely ignored the entire time. Mother he was pathetic.

"Hey, Lulu" He called out, and I cringed at the nickname, "Once your guard dog here leaves, how 'bout we go somewhere more private for round three?"

I froze, pressing my fingers to my eyes, before dragging my hands down my face. I inhaled once, twice. Round three? Really? I was going to actually kill that boy. Apparently Paris shared the sentiments, because before I could even react, he had Montgomery by the collar. He slammed Montgomery into the wall.

"Say that again. Say that again. I dare you" He threatened him, slamming him back one more time. His voice was low with menace, his hands turning white from his grip on Monty's shirt. Mother of the everseeing. What was wrong with men?

"Lulu, call your dog off!" Montgomery called out, a hateful glare fixated on Paris. Paris slammed him against the wall again. This time I heard a painful thud when he hit the stone. Where the Hell was Paris getting the momentum to repeatedly do this? Montgomery was in no means small.

"Eulalia..?!" Montgomery called out again, this time a hint of fear perceptible in his tone. He sounded nervous as he shouted my name, telling me to do something. Coward. What did he think I could do? I was not Paris' master. I had no power over him.

"Not so bold now, Kaur, are you?" Paris said, slamming him back once more. I heard the crack this time, Monty flinching in pain. Concern ebbed in my stomach. Not for Monty, heavens no, but for Paris. What the Hell was wrong with him? What demon possessed him to be acting like this, his eyes dilated and black from rage. He had narcissistic rage eyes. The sight of them made my stomach feel uncomfortably hollow.

"Paris, drop him" I warned him, my voice hard and brittle. I heard a scoff from behind me, and I was suddenly reminded of Isis' presence. She stood in the door way of the classroom, her arms crossed as she observed their fight with utmost amusement. My stomach dropped further as I connected the dots. Of course. Isis was playing with his emotions. She was responsible for his uncharacteristic change in temper.

I stormed up to her, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards me. She startled as she stumbled forward. I lowered my voice so the other two wouldn't over hear.

"Stop it" I warned her with menace in my expression. She looked affronted that I called her out. Her grey eyes were wide as I held her in place.

"I'm not doing anything" She sputtered at me in shock. I tightened my grip on her arm, digging my pointed nails into her bronzed arm.

"I said stop it. Stop messing with his emotions" I repeatedly lowly, "He's off limits, you greedy cow. I gave you all my emotions. You're full. You have no need of his, and even if you were starving, you still wouldn't be allowed to have him. He's mine. I have claim on him. Find your own"

"I told you, I'm not doing anything" She hissed back at me, yanking her arm from my viselike grip, "And I do have my own. You. What use would I have of his pathetic emotions when I have you?!" She demanded rationally. My anger faltered at the honesty in her voice. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, glancing back over my shoulder at Paris.

"Then what in Hells name has gotten in to him?" I demanded, stumped by my predicament. Paris had dropped Monty upon my request, but was still standing in his face. They were in a heated argument, looking like rams ready to butt heads.

"That's what I was trying to figure out before you so rudely interrupted" Isis hissed at me, rubbing her slender arm, "Honestly, Eulalia, where are you manners?"

"You ate them, alongside the rest of my emotions, you celestial cow" I snarked in a dry tone, crossing my arms defensively. She scoffed at the nickname. It was a longstanding joke between us, it being the first thing I had said to her when we met for the first time. She introduced herself as Isis Al-Mehet. I told her that her last name meant celestial cow goddess in Egyptian mythology. She thought it was humorous. I thought it was the truth.

Paris' voice rose to a shout, as he pushed Monty back. Monty stumbled before pushing him back, his face twisted in rage. His black eyes shone with murder.

"And that's my cue" I grumbled under my breath, storming up to Paris and Monty.

"Leave. Both of you. Now" I shouted at them, trying to squeeze between them. It was useless, their chests puffed up and pressed to each other like territorial pigeons.  I tried to figure out a way to hit both of them without using my magic, but it was physically impossible, seeing that they both passed the six-foot marker. The boys payed no mind to me, infuriating me even further. Who did they think they were to ignore me?

"Don't make me beat you for the second time today, Kaur" Paris snarled at him, grabbing his collar and dragging forwards. He looked ready to bash his face in any moment. Monty held Paris' wrists, trying to stabilize himself and get back some power in the situation. He gave Paris a savage smile, and my stomach sunk at the insinuations behind it.

"Funny. You say that, and yet I was the one beating your girl-" He began, but was interrupted by a crack echoing through the hall. Monty's face was twisted to one side. Absolute shock depicted on his face as he stared at Paris, not comprehending how Paris managed to hit him, if both his hands were still on his collar. And then it finally clicked for him, and looked down at me, wide eyed and blinking in a fuddled state.

I had backhanded him. Not punched, not hit, but backhanded. Anybody could punch. Any Neanderthal could bash heads and act aggressive without it meaning a single thing. But a backhand required a certain amount of disrespect. It had an undertone of superiority, a portrayal of mockery and condescension, proving that you saw them beneath you. A back hand was meant to be humiliating.

My rage fizzled as I stared up at Montgomery, my chest rising and falling in angry breaths. He dared to lie about me again? He dared to use my name as leverage? Did he think he was immune to my wrath because he knew me?

I slowly prowled towards him, my fists clenched in restrained anger. Monty backed up, a steady trickle of blood seeping from his nose and down his face. I was satisfied with the crack I heard when I slapped him, feeling the bone shift beneath my hand.

"How dare you" I hissed at him, backing him into the wall. Panic absorbed every single one of his features. It was undiluted as he looked around the hall for someone to help him. Nobody stepped forward, less than eager to become the target of my wrath.

"How dare you speak for me? How dare you lie in my name? Who do you think you are? Just because we have history, does not mean you're immune to my wrath. You forget yourself with me. You allow yourself far too much" I said in a low voice. His back was against the wall now, and I stared into his eyes for a long moment. His gaze flickered around the room, refusing to settle on my slightly-glowing, grey eyes.

"Next time you speak, much less lie, on my name, Montgomery, I will cut that pretty smile off your face" I told him in full seriousness. His eyes widened as he placed a hand to his mouth, shielding his lips from me as if I were going to do it at this very moment. My eyes narrowed. Bloody idiot.

"Leave" I snapped at him, watching him scramble towards Isis. He sped down the hall as Isis shot me a parting smile. My chest was rising and falling in angry breaths as my eyes devoured the sight of her. She was practically glowing from all the extra emotions flying about, thick in the atmosphere.

"Lets do this again sometime" She said, breathing in a deep, satisfied lung-full of air, "I love the taste of mens' fear. Nothing quite like it" She purred at me, her red lips curved into a sinister smile. 

Isis waved at me gently, fluttering her manicured fingers, before sauntering down the hall in a leisurely pace. When she disappeared, I turned on Paris. My rage sparked back to life as soon as she was gone, realizing she mellowed it down when I was talking to her. Sneaky little minx. The sudden reappearance of my anger amplified it by twenty, me being hyperaware of it's miserable presence this time.

"So is this what it takes to unhinge the noble Paris Arobynn?" I sneered at Paris, putting particular emphasis on the word noble. He stumbled back, shocked to find the anger turned on him, "Not my murders, my demons, or my cruelty, but another man" I snarled, clenching my fists in an act of restrained fury. His shock quickly shifted into something else as he stared me down with a dark look on his face. His eyes were dilated in anger, and where I should have felt fear, I felt rage.

I was partially startled by how hot my ire was, overwhelmed by how much rage I had simmering underneath my veins. A blinding-hot wave dizzied me, making me see white splotches in my vision. At this moment, in his presence, I was a creature made of up entirely of pure, undiluted hate, shaking from my bouts of wrath. I could not understand how he managed to make me so spiteful.

"My cruelty has no effect on you, but another male touching your property does" I continued, my teeth grit so hard that I was sure the porcelain would shatter.

"This has nothing to do with-" He began but I cut him off quickly. I had no patience to listen to worthless male opinions. Not when he disregarded mine so easily.

"All it took, was a healthy dosage of a male testosterone to unhinge you" I continued, "All it took was for someone to question your superiority- your dominance, to set you off. You simply couldn't handle the thought of someone else taking what you presumed was yours. It wasn't for me. It was for your ego. You believed you were entitled to me, and seeing another male supposedly take what you claimed as yours, set you off into a fit of rage. You did not even know the truth, before you began accusing me"

He said nothing, staring me down silently. Somehow, he managed to make the action condescending. He were staring down at me as if I were a dog, a savage beast that was beneath him. And in his eyes, I was beneath him- both literally and metaphorically. If he thought me as his equal, he would have never tried to speak for me, fight for me. And now, my short height allowed for him to look down on me condescendingly. I wanted to break his legs so he would fall to his knees and stop looking down on me. I wanted to break him. 

"And regarding me?" I continued mercilessly, "You have no right. You have no right to be upset over something you never had in the first place. I was never yours. You have no right to fight for me and act in my name. Learn your place" I spat at him.

He momentarily flinched, but then his expression darkened further when he opened his. Yes. Throw a fit. Men never liked being denied. Show me your true colors, Paris Arobynn. I was eager to get him angry. Desperate even. All it took was another man to unhinge him and achieve what I had been trying to do for months. I wanted him to be unhinged. I wanted him to loose his temper and give me the upper hand. I wanted insight.

"It must be exhausting wearing that mask all the time, pretending to be something you're not. See that's the difference between me and you, Paris Arobynn. I know I'm a horrible person, but at least I admit to it. I am not ashamed of my nature. But you- oh my Gods- you can't even do that. And when your mask slips, I see you for what you are"

He flinched, his eyes closed. I waited for the satisfaction. I waited to relish in his misery and feel high from gratification. After all, I earned it. I had berated him and put him in his place. He wouldn't go around looking like a love-sick moron anymore. He wouldn't look at me at all. I earned it. And yet, the feeling never came. I was unfulfilled from this interaction, frowning in annoyance at the lackluster of my emotions. They were a pale comparison to my rage.

And then I felt cornered when I no longer had my rage to puff me up and make me big. So, unsettled from this reaction, I did the only thing I could think of: I ran. Before I stood there long enough to process the greasy feeling of dissapointment, I jumped into a shadow, sinking in to the other side of the veil. Black overtook me, as my eyelids sunk shut.