Leyla

Leyla had been in the tub for hours. Her fingers and toes were pruning and her skin was beginning to wrinkle. But she couldn't stop herself.

Every time she slid the wet cloth over her skin and squeezed it to release the water, she imagined the Dralan's voice praising her, telling her how good she was. Every gentle tickle from the fleeing water droplets, reminded her of the touch of his fingers, running along her skin, finding small spots that lit a fire inside her body.

She had chosen rose water. The gentle flower didn't overpower her own fragrance, the one the Dralan liked, and at the same time it accentuated her scent and complimented the taste of her blood, like a nice red wine to a delicious meal.

After hours of simply stewing in the warm rose water with the flower petals, she finally arose from the tub and writhed her hair from excess water. She grabbed a soft towel when the cool air begun nibbling at her skin, rising goosebumps onto it. She dried down and now went to the Dralan's giant mirror where on a lush armchair, a Kischmir had dropped off a dress. The same Kischmir had helped temper her water and prepare the bath for her, without uttering a single word or even looking at her. Leyla had the feeling she had been ordered to do so on the threat of execution, if her shaky hands were anything to go by. She had left as soon as she was done and let Leyla bathe alone.

Now, Leyla held up the beautiful silk dress that looked as pure and smooth as a white cotton cloud on a warm summer day. The fabric was the finest she had ever seen, and the dress itself was simple, yet magnificent; It had thin straps that led down to the smooth curve of the cleavage, and the back was backless and stopped just above her hips. The gown was loose, thin and flow-y, and the dress hugged her body as if it had been custom made for her. Perhaps it had.

Shaking the ludicrous thought from her thoughts, Leyla twirled in front of the mirror and watched as the fabric swirled around her in a shiny haze, reflecting softly in the candlelight. She had never worn anything so expensive, nor beautiful. Hopefully it would please the Dralan as much as it pleased her.

What was she going to do with her hair? She thought, combing her fingers through her wavy blonde locks. As a Kischmir she had been forced to keep it up and covered by the bonnet, but she was a Mihr now, a Mihrisa. She doubted the Dralan wanted her to hide her hair from him, but then again, he probably wouldn't want to deal with brushing it away from her neck whenever he needed to feed. So as a compromise, she decided to do a loose side-braid that went from the right part of her head to the left part of her shoulder. That way, it was tamed, but still loose for his touch, if he so pleased. The idea made her shiver.

She then sat down at the large dining table, in one of the cushioned seats, and looked around. What was she going to do now? She felt like she should thank the Dralan for what he had offered her; It struck her that she hadn't, and she immediately felt awful. She would have to make up for that, then. And she knew just how to do it.

Dohmenic

He was exhausted by the time he begun the march back to his chamber. It was just around nightfall, dinner time, and he was starving. Feeding on blood could only get you so far, but you needed real food as well to survive. Especially when you spent most of your days in a training facility, beating useless Lathras into shape. He could've gotten a commandant to do it, but what Dralan didn't personally make sure his army fought well and with great skills? His father had trained him, and now he was training his Lathras. It was hard work, but at the end of the day, he wouldn't trade it for anything. The battlefield was where he belonged.

So as he walked back to his chamber
with a growling stomach, he was mentally deciding what to order from the kitchen tonight, when a wonderful aroma caught his nose.

Meat... Wine... Fruits... And something he couldn't put his finger on. It was sweet, almost flowery... Like... Roses.

With an awakened interest, he opened the door to his chamber and then stopped up by the sight that met him.

His Mihrisa was walking around, perfecting the last details on the exquisite dinner table she had prepared; Flowers, silverware, fresh warm bread and platters of fruit and dipping sauces. A big cow shank laid beautifully garnished at the center of the table, steaming with a spicy fragrance.

But it was only when his Mihrisa noticed he had entered, his teeth watered. She whipped around startled, causing her loose dress to flair around her slender legs in a whirlwind. She was... Breathtaking.

The dress he had used so long to decide on, fit her body more perfectly than he could ever have envisioned. Now that her body wasn't covered up in that shapeless Kischmir gown, he could see every curve and contour of her body; Her long slender neck, which he had fed from, her pale décolletage and the clean valley down to her perfect round breasts which were beautifully contrasted by the white silk dress. Her arms were thin and feminine, just like her neck and waist. But her hips were curvy and full, just like her legs were long and slender, noticeable through the long slit on the dress that stopped mid-thigh. Her feet were bare. The thing that topped it all off was her golden hair which she had braided to her side, clearly to expose her beautiful vein to him; Welcoming him.

And that's when he realized that that was in fact what she was doing; She was welcoming him back as she stood in front of the table and curtsied, waiting for him to say the first word.

"Dahna," He murmured, walking closer to her. "Look at you."

She bowed even deeper, keeping her gaze on the floor. "Welcome back, my lord."

"What is all this?" He asked, lifting her chin up so he could get another look at those enthralling amber eyes. When she did, his cock jerked.

"I-I wanted to thank you," She whispered, swallowing heavily. "For choosing me as your Mihrisa and for the protection you offered with it. I am truly humbled."

She bowed her head respectfully again, and damn him, he wanted to reach out and kiss her and strip her from the title she held so dearly. Even with all the delicious food on the table, there was but one thing he wanted to taste.

"Feed me."

She blinked up at him perplexed, as if not believing what she just heard. "W-what?"

"Feed me, Mihrisa." He repeated, cupping her cheek.

She blinked twice, but then begun craning her neck sideways, exposing her vein. He stopped her.

"No, not from your vein. From your hand," He specified, his eyes never leaving hers. "Feed me the food you prepared for me. Nourish your Dralan."

Letting out a nervous, shaky breath, she slowly nodded and they adjourned to the table. He discarded his belt with weapons beforehand and took a seat in one of his chairs. When she made an attempt to sit down across from him, he grabbed her wrist.

"No, Mihrisa. Sit in my lap. You will feed me from there."

Her eyes went wide, but she didn't question his order. She let him pull her into his lap where he nestled her comfortably against his throbbing erection so she knew just how well she was doing; A males hardness was a thing of pride to a female. That's when they knew that a male was truly pleased with her and what she had done. It was a token of appreciation.

His Mihrisa clearly felt him and blushed into vivacious pink shade, a shade he truly adorned on her. It suited her.

Nervously she readjusted her position in his lap, unsure of where to put her hands. "What would you like me to feed you, my lord?"

"Surprise me."

"Do you have any dislikes?"

"No."

With that, she nervously turned to the table and begun picking food onto the golden plate in front of them. When she felt like there was a sufficient amount of food on it, she turned back to him, holding a small piece of meat between her fingers.

He opened his mouth for her, without saying a word and she took the invitation, slowly bringing the cooked meat to his lips. He let his mouth close around it and flicked the residue moisture from the meat off her fingertips with his tongue. The meat was delicious, but she tasted better. So good in fact, his arousal jerked in his lap.

He noticed her eyes lowered to his jaw as he worked the meat in his mouth, and watched as they then fell to his throat when he sank. Her pupils expanded with a dark lust, she probably wasn't aware of she was excreting. But he could smell it. It was a sweet, tingling scent in the air, sweeter than strawberries, more powerful than the scent of citrus. His eyes automatically dropped to her full breasts, where through the thin white silk, her nipples had hardened into two tiny pebbles. He suppressed a groan.

Every fervid, wild instinct inside him told him to take the female to his bed and spend the rest of the night between her legs, making her climax until she couldn't even scream his name anymore. It took every little bit of him to not do just that, but instead focus on the food at hand. It raised a question in his head.

"How did you get your hands on all of this food? I specifically ordered you not to leave this chamber." Fury suddenly bubbled beneath his surface, along with the divine taste of what punishment awaited if she had crossed his orders.

"I didn't defy my Dralan's command," She nervously said. "I handcrafted a letter and slid it out under the door to the guards you ordered to watch me while you were gone. I asked them to bring me what I needed in specific details and not one hour later, everything showed up," She told, taking a piece of bread and ripping it into a small piece, fit for his mouth. "They never looked or talk to me, nor I them. They rolled it in on a cart and disappeared afterwards. Just like the Kischmir who gave me this dress," she whispered, glancing down at it.

His mood changed abruptly again when he now knew she had kept to his order. He was proud of her. "Do you like it?"

She nodded, looking up at him again. "Yes, my lord. I love it."

"So do I." He opened his mouth for her again and she slipped the bread past his lips. Again, he sucked on her fingers even though there were no residue this time.

She blushed yet again to the color he adored, and so the feeding continued. They talked about nothing in particular, for the most part they were just silent. She watched him eat and he told her to eat as well, both of them getting the nourishment they needed. Once the plate had been cleared not once, not twice, but thrice, they were both finally full. When she tried to stand up from his lap, he caught her arm and kept her in place.

"I want to do this every night, Mihrisa. I want you to feed me from your hand every night I come home, with food you have prepared for me."

Her eyes widened to saucers when she recognized the honor; Feeding a male, and a King at that, was considered a major honor. To be allowed to feed their masters, to touch their food with their hands and feed them until they were full and sated, was one of the biggest honors a female could get - the biggest being bedded by a worthy male and to then carry his young.

When his Mihrisa didn't speak or move, but simply just stared, he stood up, sweeping her into his arms. "We rest now, Mihrisa. It has been a long day for the both of us."

Letting out a gasp as he carried her to his bed, she let herself get nestled on his sheets. "W-we sleep in the same bed?"

It was probably going to be the hardest thing he ever had to do - stay away from her sleeping body - but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Yes. You are my Mihrisa and I will keep you where I know you are safest. With me," He crawled in on the bed, watching how she gulped heavily, scared. "I will not touch you, I give you my word. You may dream in peace without fearing my unholy touch. Good?"

She exhaled visibly, clearly not doubting his royal words as he did. But he had made her promise now and a Dralan never drew back on his promises. He would stay away from her on his honor.

She crept under his sheets as he climbed to the other side of his bed, discarding his shirt and kicking off his boots in the process. He noticed his Mihrisa's eyes flicker to his exposed torso, but he willed himself not to linger at her lustful gaze. If he did - if he saw the adoring, dark look of forbidden desire on her face as she complimented his body with her stare - he would not be able to keep his promise, that much was certain.

So instead he rolled over, as far away from her as he could, climbing under his silk sheets that did nothing to hide the throbbing member in breeches. He hated sleeping in clothes, but tonight it would have to do. Tomorrow he could come up with a better plan that still involved having her sleeping right next to him.

"Goodnight, my lord," She hesitantly whispered, as if unsure she could bid him that.

She could, but just this once. "Goodnight, Dahna."