Leyla

The days passed on quickly. With the preparations to the Bhrakla Aurora, it seemed that the entire castle was in a hustle to make the celebration come together to a great party. Invitations were sent out, flowers were gather and cows, pigs and fish were slaughtered and prepared. Wine caskets were brought up from the cellars and the giant ballroom wherein the celebration would be held was dusted off, scrubbed and then decorated with beautiful ornaments relating to the ceremony.

White roses were the main factor, but golden torches were an important necessity as well; while white represented the innocence of the soul, gold represented the strength of the heart. Those two combined were a glorious and vital combination for the Bhrakla Aurora celebration where two such innocent youngs would be mated.

Of course all of this happened while Leyla was kept locked away in the Dralan's chamber. Bhria came by daily to tell her all about the preparations and the exotic people who had been arriving all week long, ready to celebrate the joining of two youngs. Leyla listened with a pang of jealousy as Bhria excitedly told of how pretty the ballroom looked and how magnificent the smell from the kitchen was. She even told her of the cakes that had been made as decadent desserts.

Leyla heavily missed her freedom. While she cherished and appreciated everything the Dralan had done for her, she felt awfully trapped in his bedchamber - she longed for a breath of fresh air or even just a small walk - anything to get her out of those four encasing walls that was his chamber.

"You will be singing to hundreds of people in a few days," Bhria reminded her with a smile. "You'll get to leave the chamber then. He might even let you attend the celebration for a little while."

While Leyla smiled at Bhria's encouragement, she wasn't as optimistic as her. She understood that above all, the Dralan valued her safety. He was going to be the cynosure of the celebration and he wouldn't be able to keep her at his side the whole night. He would have to mingle, and in those times, she would be left alone, perhaps with a Lathra or two. Who was to say they wouldn't turn on her, get enthralled by her scent? She was a Mihrisa in a ballroom of males; She doubted the Dralan would want her to stay there for long.

So Leyla continued to do what she could and what was her duty; she practiced the hymn she was to sing for the youngs and the whole room, until the words were etched into her skull and her tones were as smooth and beautiful as could be. Still, she felt nervous about performing. What if she wouldn't be good enough? What if her voice cracked? What if she forgot to breathe?

All these thoughts invaded her mind two days before the celebration was due. That, and of course the pressure of her impending thirst that only grew day by day, was starting to wear her down. How was she going to get through it?

"You are hardly eating," The Dralan noted the evening before the celebration. They were dining as they did, with her sitting in his lap, eating the food she had prepared. The Dralan was watching her closely as he chewed the bite she had fed him, but noticed that she wasn't touching much of the food herself. "Have you lost your appetite?"

She gulped nervously and fidgeted a little in his lap. She shouldn't have done that. She now felt the Dralan's hard member press against her thigh and it made her blush. He was always hard around her. "I... I-I am merely not that hungry tonight, t-that is all."

"You didn't eat much yesterday, either," He reminded her and raised a stern brow. "Why have you stopped eating, Mihrisa?"

She pressed her lips tightly together and looked into her own lap. She didn't want to tell him it was nervousness eating away at her and it was causing her stomach to flip. He was the Dralan, he was the ruler of a whole kingdom and had people looking up to him and worshipping the very ground he walked on and owned. If he failed, a whole kingdom would hate him. And there she was, fearing to sing in front of a small, albeit important crowd. It was nothing compared to his, not that she could ever compare herself to him, of course.

"Mihrisa," The Dralan spoke up when she had been silent for too long. She suddenly felt him stir and then his hand laid on top of her thigh, his thumb caressing her, causing heat to erupt within her. "You need to eat. Gather strength. You'll need it for tomorrow for when you perform."

She let out an involuntary whimper. Anxiousness attacked her and she had to swallow a heavy lump. She was sweating cold beads of fear down her back. "Y-yes, sire."

As she lifted a piece of bread to her lips and chewed on it, it tasted like nothing in her mouth. It was like chewing on leather; no matter how hard she tried to swallow, it wouldn't go down. Her saliva wouldn't dissolve it, but then again, perhaps that was because she had none. Her mouth felt as dry as sand.

"That's it," The Dralan said and without warning lifted her up into his arms and caused her to let out a little yelp. He carried her easily, stood up and walked to the foot of his bed, then sat down, had her sitting on his lap like before, only this time, much closer. "What's bothering you, Mihrisa? Tell me. That's an order." His voice turned hard on that last sentence, alarming her that he wasn't messing around here. He demanded the truth from her.

"I..." Leyla started out and swallowed another dry lump. "I... I am n-nervous about... t-tomorrow. What if... what if I fail you?"

The Dralan's face instantly softened and a little smirk even lifted to his lips. "You are worried about sabotaging your performance tomorrow?" When Leyla nervously nodded, he let out a silent chuckle. "You won't, Mihrisa. You will not be singing to any of them, you will be singing to me. It's me you will have to please, not them. And you do already please me, Mihrisa..." His voice trailed off into something husky and then he adjusted her on his lap so she felt his hard member again. It poked against and made her suck in a breath. "You need not worry."

She nodded shakily and then the Dralan stood up again, only to set her down on the bed, fold the covers over her. She dared to look up at him and found him retreating, only to drag off his shirt and kick off his boots. She gasped as his stunning body was revealed to her, the body she had kept herself from looking at every time he bathed and insisted on her staying in there to talk to him; Keep him company. Now it was showcased before her, his chiseled, toned upper body and strong arms, spring-loaded with raw maleness and power. His skin looked so smooth, it almost begged for her to touch it, to kiss it. How she wished she could.

The Dralan smirked at her blatant staring, knowing what was going on in her head. She blushed; everyone knew males fed off the respond they got from females. They loved having their bodies worshipped, and that was indeed what Leyla just did - had done all week. These were her guilty pleasure moments at the end of the day; sneaking a peak. She couldn't help but turn into a crisp as the Dralan walked around to the other side of the bed, his musculature popping as he did.

The candles went out in a jiffy. Leyla still wasn't used to his little tricks, but it was what centuries of pure blood did to you; it gave you the ability to manipulate certain elements, such as fire. He could also move certain things with his mind, but only if he used all of his strength. Her blood gave him the power to do all these things - things that made him the legitimate and rightful heir to the throne as the last pureblooded vampire.

The room got bathed in darkness as the Dralan slipped into bed next to her, though stayed at the far side of the mattress. He never came near her when they were sleeping together, though she had on several occasions woken up and found herself touching him one way or another. And sometimes reverse.

It was as if there was a magnetic pull between them, and in their sleep, they couldn't fend it off. Regardless of them waking up touching or not touching, the Dralan always woke up with a hard and throbbing member protruding from his breeches. It always made Leyla awkward and nervous, yet strangely aroused and warm. Especially because he let her look, even though in his eyes, she could tell he wanted to do more.

"Sleep well tonight, Mihrisa," His deep voice said as they both settled in for sleep. "And sing proudly for me tomorrow."

Dohmenic

"Merram," The Dralan smiled hard at his friend who bowed deeply before him and kissed his ring in loyalty. "Welcome, at last."

"Your majesty," Merram respectfully replied. Merram was a male of normal-strong built. He was not a male of his prime anymore, but rather a male reaching his maturity. Small gray hairs highlighted his short black hair which had begun to bald around his temples. His age did not slow him, though. In his younger days, he had won more than several battles, and to this day, his reputation still stuck to him. He remained a strong male who kept his female safe, maintained his land and property, and had several Kathmirs at his disposal. He was an old fashioned man, older than the Dralan himself, but he respected him as his superior - respected the purity of his blood. He was a faithful male who believed in the traditional ways.

"I trust you had a comfortable journey," The Dralan spoke as his friend arose to his feet again and straightened his robes. "Your young did not suffer from the road?"

"No, he is of perfect health still," Merram heartily replied and turned to his female who respectfully stood a few steps behind him with a few of her Kischmirs, carrying a small bundle in her arms that was their newborn. She kept her head down and bowed graciously to her Dralan as her husband presented her.

"Blessings of your blood," The Dralan told Merram before turning to his wife and his young. The female came forth and loyally curtsied deeply before him. "You chose a strong female who birthed you male kin. You've done well, Merram."

"Thank you, your majesty," Merram bowed.

"And to you, female," The Dralan said and met the female's eyes who carefully looked up. "The Blithesome Miss have blessed you. May she continue to do so through your son."

"Thank you, your majesty," She nervously replied, her voice as faint as a whisper. He could tell that his presence intimidated her. "Blessing be with you, too."

He nodded, satisfied. "I will have my personal Kathmir show your female and your young to where you will be staying. As for you, Merram, I will have a word with you."

Merram and his wife exchanged a brief look, whereafter his female gave a curtsy and then obediently followed Callath who bowed to her and led her on her way. You could tell the female was exhausted from the journey, as was her young who was making a silent fuss in her arms. They would both need rest before the celebration tonight.

The Dralan led Merram to a study in the meantime. He needed to discuss important matters with his friend, matters that sadly could not wait till after the Bhrakla Aurora.

Once both inside the study, the Dralan turned to stare at his friend who strongly straightened his back and showed he was ready for whatever the Dralan wished to bring upon him. "What can I do for you, sire?"

The Dralan strongly crossed his arms and gave the male a hard look. "I have a task for you, Merram."

Leyla

This was it. It was just about time for her to go on stage and sing. The guests had all arrived and the celebration had been going for about an hour. Leyla had yet to see the ballroom, it would only be revealed to her as she stepped up to sing the hymn. As for now, she stood anxiously in the Dralan's chamber while Bhria fixed the last few things on her dress.

It was a glorious piece of fashion that the Dralan had surprised her with. Shining in the purest white silk she had ever seen, the dress had golden straps that looped behind her neck and held the dress up. The dress itself was form-fitted and backless and dipped into a gorgeous cleavage that complimented her bosom beautifully. The material shone lightly in the gentle flame of the candles that lit up the Dralan's bedchamber and cast a luminous glow on her.

She looked like an angel.

"You will steal the breath out of all of them," Bhria said and looked at through the mirror with a smile. "I know you will make the Dralan proud to call you his Mihrisa. And all of us proud to call you our sister."

The red color that spread on Leyla's cheeks complimented her pale skin. She was proud to represent her kind, but most of all, proud to represent the Dralan. She wished to show him how she could excel for him, how she could live up to what he wanted her to be. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him, that was probably why her knees were still shaking.

Suddenly, a knock on the door sounded. As the two females spun around, a muscular male entered the Dralan's bedchamber, a male Leyla didn't recognize.

He looked at her, and briefly, she saw how his eyes widened as he took in her appearance. After a quick moment of staring, he blinked and diverted his eyes, then cleared his throat and bowed. "Mihrisa. My name is Callath, I am the Dralan's personal Kathmir. I am to escort you to the Bhrakla Aurora."

Panic zinged through Leyla. She had thought the Dralan would be the one who would lead her there. She didn't know this male. What nature was he of? Could she trust him? Fear now settled within her and it begun showing, for the male before her glanced up at her and creased his brows.

"Mihrisa? It's time. I must ask you to follow me."

Scared, Leyla turned and looked at Bhria who to her surprise was smiling. She met Leyla's eyes and gave her a calming nod, as if to tell her it was okay. Her apparent calmness eased Leyla some. If Bhria knew and trusted this male, perhaps she could, too. And if he really was the personal Kathmir of the Dralan, he had to be a male of worth.

"Forgive me," Leyla quickly said and curtsied to the male, Callath. "I am ready. Please."

Callath's face grew soft again, then gave her a nod before he carefully came up to her and offered her his arm. Leyla hesitated. Wasn't this a breech in the rules the Dralan had set up? She wasn't allowed to talk, look or touch another male but him. Yet here his Kathmir was, wanting her to take his arm.

She gulped. Carefully, she wrapped her arm around his, feeling as the sweat began heating off her. As Callath steadily began leading her out of the room, Leyla looked back over her shoulder to see Bhria smiling encouragingly at her. It was all going to be okay.

Now as Leyla walked out of the Dralan's chamber for the first time in a little over a week and begun walking down the corridors, flanked by six Lathras and a Kathmir by her arm, her nerves started to kick in. Not only that, her thirst came roaring forward with a passion, stinging in her throat like a wasp. She swallowed heavily, but it did nothing to soothe the pain.

Just a little while longer. You can do this, for the Dralan. Hang in there.

"Is everything alright?" Callath suddenly asked her. Leyla blinked and looked up at the tall male before her, looked at his soft brown eyes and dark blond hair that fell onto his forehead. She couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome, sculpted quite nicely. Of course he was no match to the Dralan's beauty.

"I am fine," She lied. She didn't want anyone to worry on her behalf when she had it fully under control. She couldn't make a fuss now, not right before she had to perform. "I am only nervous, that's all."

Callath gave her a brief nod, then zoned his eyes in on the hallway in front of them. They turned a corner and then suddenly, they stood in front of a giant door that was guarded by more Lathras. Callath let his arm drop, then turned and looked at her, full front.

"Here we are. In a moment, it will be announced that the ritual will begin. Silence will fall and these doors will open," He told and nodded towards the big wooden doors. "When that happens, you are to step forth. This door leads directly onto the stage where the two youngs will be, lying in each their crib in front of one big golden crib. You are to stand in between these two cribs, behind the golden one, and once the Dralan gives you his nod, you sing. Understood?"

Leyla struggled to remember everything and recited it all in her head again; wait for silence. Doors open. Step out. Stand between cribs, behind golden one. Wait for the Dralan to give you his mark. "Yes, I understand."

"Good," Callath nodded and then gave her a deep bow. "I wish you the best of luck, Mihrisa."

The male then backed away and left her there with the Lathras, letting panic find its way to her body again. She looked down and found her hands were shaking, as was her knees. Her throat still burned, her stomach twisted. She was so nervous.

The voices behind the doors were incomprehensible. She heard laughter and loud talking, the sounds of forks and knives meeting plates. Chewing, drinking and cheering, then suddenly, three hard knocks on something wooden. A cane striking the floor.

The voices all instantly died out as if someone had gagged them all at the exact same time, and instead an eerie silence now stretched. A chair screeched against the floor, then...

"Welcome," A deep and very familiar voice spoke. At the sound of the Dralan's voice, Leyla exhaled and felt her nerves soothe. He was there. "It is with pride that I tonight present this Bhrakla Aurora's tribute to the youngs. She is of this ceremony, the perfect fit for a uniting as pure and innocent as this; I present to you," His deep voice said, just as the Lathras moved to grasp the handles of the door, making Leyla's breath catch in her throat, "My Mihrisa."

The doors swung open and took Leyla's breath away completely. The giant ballroom was revealed before her in a illuminating glow; gold chandeliers hung from the arched ceilings, casting a golden light over the entire room that was bathed in equal gold and white. The walls were a golden, yellow color while the floors were black, shining marble. Tables lined up in the shape of a horseshoe was what met her, all faces looking at her as she stepped out on the stage where, as told, three cribs stood in a perfect triangle, two of them which held a young each, a newborn male and female. The golden crib upfront was where they would be carried to to get united for life.

She had never seen the actual ritual before, but Leyla had heard so many tales of it. She never dreamed she would one day be the one to perform the traditional hymn before a ballroom of nobilities and most importantly, the Dralan himself. Yet here she was.

As Leyla stepped out in her long white silky dress with her golden hair resting in curls on her shoulders and down her back, a collective gasp went through the room. She felt her cheeks heat up as every male looked upon her and drank in her sight, and as every female gaped and admired her stunning, angelic beauty; Some were of appreciation, others were of envy.

Leyla immediately felt out of place; she could call herself a Mihrisa all she wanted and dress up in beautiful gowns, but deep inside, she was just a Bahk. She was a nobody, and she was about to sing to two innocent, noble youngs as they got mated. She didn't belong here and the whole room knew it.

That's when her eyes found the Dralan's; he sat in the center of the horseshoe, his eyes pinned directly on her. His electric orbs burned her, trailed over her body with a carnal desire that had her sweating in her spot. The rest of the room faded out to her, and suddenly, there was nobody here but the two of them; The Dralan gazing at her and Leyla standing before him, ready to perform for him.

He was wearing a blood red jacket that accentuated his black hair and golden skin beautifully. A simple gold chain rested over his chest where a simple pendant with a red stone laid exactly on top of his strong heart. Even for a celebration as big as this one, he dressed up so little, yet still managed to outshine the entire room. His dominance and power reeked off him in a scent that masked all the others; nobody could question him of being a male unworthy of his throne.

And how Leyla wanted to serve him.

The Dralan's eyes flashed as if he could read her mind, and then his head slowly nodded a single time; That was her mark.

Leyla took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then opened them, just as she opened her mouth and begun singing. All her worries faded away and disappeared as she hit that first note, rendered the room silent as the night. She sang loud and proudly and looked at nobody but the Dralan. He looked right back, his eyes never wavering.

Halfway through the song, two people came forth, each on their side of the stage. It was two males which had Leyla briefly panicking. Her eyes flickered in fear as they approached the stage, and she wondered why the Dralan didn't say anything.

But then as the males both leaned down to each their crib and picked up the youngs, Leyla eased up.

Now she understood; they were the young's fathers. This was all part of the ritual. As she continued singing, the males slowly carried the youngs up to the golden crib before Leyla, then looked at each other before bowing in mutual respect; A sign of bonding, acknowledging the other male and their family, the one they would be a part of now. Then they lowered their youngs into the golden crib and turned to the crowd. They all looked with anticipation as the males now each pulled a small dagger from their breast pockets. They turned towards each other and then handed the dagger over, exchanging them.

Then, Leyla watched, while singing, as each male kneeled before the crib with their young, brought the tiny blade to their flesh and then carefully poked it against their hands. The youngs started screaming and crying at the metal that cut them, but the males both ignored it. Instead they focused on the single red drop of blood that pebbled out from their tiny wound and swiped it up with their fingers. Then, the two males looked at each other again before standing up, switching places so that they now were standing in front of the other male's offspring. They kneeled down again and with a gentle, yet firm touch, swiped their bloodied finger over the crying young's lips, sealing their mate's blood on their tongue.

The ritual was completed; the two youngs had now exchanged blood and were mated - two strong vampire households joined through the bonding of their newborns. About thirteen or fourteen years from now, the two youngs would consummate their mating, officially sealing their families as one.

At this point, Leyla had finished the hymn and bowed down as the two proud fathers shook a strong handshake, then turned to the crowd who applauded them. Everyone stood up, except for the Dralan, and he as the only one didn't clap either. He did not need to. His presence alone was applause enough.

But even as the room exploded with excitement and celebration, the two youngs crying from all the noise, it was silent between the Dralan and Leyla. He was looking only at her, his eyes burning her with the intensity. As if she could read his thoughts, she heard them shout but one thing.

Mine.

Leyla backed out of the doors again when her performance was over. She had no business on the stage anymore, now that it was over. From now on, the celebration would continue with dance and music, more drinking and laughing. All of the things she wouldn't be a part of.

The door closed her off from the ballroom, and instantly, everything came washing back to her; the adrenalin vaporized and she was left in shivering shock, cold-sweat and a burning, searing sensation in her throat. The performance had taken the last of her energy, and she now felt how she was breaking under from thirst.

It roared in her throat as she hyperventilated, unable to breathe. The Lathras all gave her a glance, but none dared speak to her, probably been strictly informed not to. Leyla therefore struggled for something to grasp onto, anything, which turned out to be a door to a long balcony that stretched along the castle walls.

Heaving for her breath, she stepped out onto it and sucked in the first fresh air she had gotten in over a week. It helped calm her nerves, but her throat still burned, her body still felt weak. She could hardly think straight.

"Leyla?"

That voice. It seemed familiar. It was. Where did it come from?

Clutching onto the railing of the balcony, Leyla turned her head and found Ahrron - the Kathmir she had been assigned to as a Kischmir - standing there, looking at her with a face of shock and worry. When Leyla desperately reached for him like a little child, she nearly fell to the floor.

"Leyla!" Ahrron ran to her side and caught her as she was about to hit the hard floor. "Leyla, Sweet Miss, what are you doing here alone? You shouldn't be--"

"Ahrron," She whispered, her voice sounding as dry and as raspy as someone who had swallowed water down the wrong pipe. Tears sprung to her eyes as he tugged her hair away from her face and caught a whiff of the blood flowing within his veins. "Ahrron, I'm so... so..."

His brows furrowed as he tried to understand her words. When they lowered into a whisper and became incomprehensible, Leyla opened her mouth and gasped, and that's when he finally understood what was wrong. "Oh Sweet Miss, your thirsting. Leyla," He said and shook her when her eyes started closing. "Leyla, open your eyes! When did you last feed?"

She gave a weak whimper as her reply. That was all she could muster. She could feel the life draining from her, feel how she was losing touch with this world. Soon she would be with the Blithesome Miss...

"Leyla, take my vein," Ahrron ordered, bristling his voice. "You have to drink or you'll die. Take it." He rolled his sleeve up without questioning, then brought his forearm to her lips. "Drink, Leyla."

The whiff of his scent was all it took for her; she was blinded with thirst and his vein was right there.

With a hiss, Leyla's fangs extended and bit into Ahrron's vein, then pulled and began extracting load after load of his blood, until it piled up and hit her tongue. A long moan of pleasure erupted from her as she swallowed, felt the blood go down her throat and stop the burn.

"That's it," Ahrron whispered, helping her sit properly up on her knees as she slowly regained strength. He kept supporting her as she drank from him, accepting his vein. "Keep drinking."

Leyla was lost in the taste of his blood when she felt a chill go through her. Even before it happened, she felt it. It was like the shudders up her back she had gotten accustomed to when she was around him alerted her.

An ear-piercing roar exploded from what sounded like miles away, and then next thing she knew, everything turned dark.