Leyla

Leyla kept her eyes firm on him. The Dralan didn't look away either, but stared intensely back at her, almost daring her to even blink.

She swallowed loudly and felt as the blood of his best friend seeped down her throat, dulling the ache. With a shudder, she felt her body's yearning fire dim down and become a weak flutter. She eagerly drank more, filling herself with the nourishing red liquid.

"Just a few moments more," Callath told. His words didn't separate their gaze, but rather intensified it. The Dralan's eyes darkened and his pupils dilated as he watched her lips suck on Callath's skin, not letting a drop go to waste. A low growl sounded from him and his fists clenched.

He didn't like it any more than she did. That being said, Leyla owed her gratitude to Callath. She felt wrong drinking the blood of another male—a male whom was courting her own Kischmir. She felt uncomfortable, awkward, but most of all, she felt like she was doing wrong by the Dralan, even though he was the one who set up the arrangement.

The circumstances were unfortunate, but the fact of the matter was, there was no other male he entrusted to feed her.

Now that Leyla was stronger than ever, it was imperial that she remained as so. To such affect, she had to stay physically strong as well, meaning she needed to feed more regularly. Since her first day at the palace, her feeding had always been a complicated affair. Finally, the Dralan had set up an arrangement with his Kathmir who willingly had agreed to give her his blood, despite the fact that another female had claimed his vein. Leyla had voiced her distress to Bhria as well, who like Callath humbly had told her there was no other way. It was for the greater good.

Leyla sighed and retracted her fangs from Callath's arm when she finally felt full. The second she was done, the Dralan had her in his arms, holding her to his chest. He growled possessively and clenched her tightly while Callath licked up his own wound and rolled down his sleeve.

"Thank you," Leyla breathed and tried to look up at him through the blurry haze of her eyes. The Dralan instantly growled and turned her eyes to his, pinning them back on him. She hummed softly and crooned when he rubbed his cheek against hers; He was reasserting his scent on her, wiping away the fresh scent of his friend's blood running through her veins.

"It's my honor. Sire." Callath gave a bow to Dohmenic who granted him a brief nod back. That was as far as he could thank him. Male possessiveness was a fickle thing, but Leyla suspected this was more about pride; His best friend feeding his female because he couldn't. It had to sting his ego, but she knew as well as he did, there was currently no other way unless they wanted her to thirst to death.

Callath left them be in the Dralan's chamber and closed the door behind him. The second he did, the Dralan lifted Leyla up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down softly, he peeled off his shirt and laid down on top of her. Slipping a hand under her, he applied pressure to her lower back and pulled her up to his groin. Smiling, Leyla arched and wrapped her arms around him, letting him slowly grind against her to reapply his scent.

She needed Callath's blood, but she didn't want to smell like him.

She hummed in delight as she detected the Dralan's mating scent begin to evolve. It tickled her nose and made her lungs burn; her legs clenched in need and she wrapped them around him instinctively. He rumbled into her neck with satisfaction and kissed her vein - sucked on the delicate skin until it left a pink mark.

His scent enveloped her tightly and bathed her in his musk. She smiled happily, but then exhaled deeply as he finally stopped moving. He pressed a single kiss to her vein, then laid down beside her.

"I'm going to do it," He voiced.

Blinking, Leyla turned her head and found his eyes. "You decided on your birthday?"

He smiled faintly and brushed her cheek. "The Moon did."

His cryptic answer was left like that when he then arose from the bed and grabbed his tunic. Having ensured his scent was now rightfully on her and everyone knew she was claimed by him, he donned his shirt and walked up to his table. He grabbed his jacket, but then stilled as Leyla sat up and sent him a pleading look. He chuckled and then held it out to her.

Grinning, Leyla jumped out of the bed and patted over to him. She took the jacket from him and then watched as he turned around. She helped him slip it on, smoothing it up his strong, muscular arms, up to his broad shoulders that carried so many heavy burdens. Turning back around, she grabbed his belt from the table and looped it around his hips. She fastened and secured it, making sure it sat tightly, but not too tightly. She then smoothed down his jacket and made sure her Dralan looked presentable.

She couldn't help but blush when she felt him smile crookedly down at her, watching her with pride. Her hands lingered on his muscular chest, feeling his warmth exude even through the fabric. His heart thumped strongly against her palm.

She couldn't believe she had had the honor of clothing the Dralan for the last couple of days. More so, she couldn't believe she got to undress him as well.

Her cheeks tinted red again, and as if reading her mind, she felt the Dralan's hand brush a lock of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. His simple touch was enough to set her needs on fire.

"Will you wear your hair up for me today?"

She blinked up at him and bit her lip. She nodded slowly, then placed her hands over on his shoulders. "Yes."

His lips twitched, but then they were moving down against hers. Her breath caught as she felt him press his mouth over hers, stealing her air, her heart, her soul. She melted into him, couldn't help but purr longingly when he slid his arm around her waist and inched her closer. He pressed her against his hardness and let her feel what she always did to him.

"Will you take care of this when I get back, too?" He huskily whispered against her lips, his hips slowly working against hers like before; Her body ignited. Trembling, she nodded.

"Good girl." He pecked her lips again, dragging her lower lip in between his incisors. She suppressed a shiver at the feel of those sharp daggers almost breaching her skin, and instead grasped a hold of the jacket she had just smoothed down. When he teased the seams of her lips with his tongue, she couldn't hold it back any longer. She moaned and then felt as the palm of his hand rounded her arse and gave it a firm squeeze. "Tonight I'll feed from you," He promised her, lowly, "And afterwards you will feed from me, too."

Pressing her front against his demanding bulge, he met the spot between her legs, wringing a gasp from her parted lips. She blushed a deep crimson, understanding his words, and twisted her hands in his jacket. She would feed from him. Almost involuntarily, her own hips started moving against his, grinding slowly. Everything inside her yearned to taste him once again. To feel the velvety soft skin against her lips...

The Dralan growled deeply at her, clenching her arse as a warning when her scent flourished darkly. He made her hips grind harder against him, molded them to glide perfectly along his growing length. "Dahna..."

She whimpered and breathed erratically against his chest. She couldn't wait. She looked up at him with pleading in her eyes, begging him. She didn't know how much more she could take of this torture; She felt ready to be taken. She felt ready in her soul for a male to mark her, to claim her and make her his with more than just his scent. She wanted to be claimed with his blood and his cock; a promise and an eternity of this feeling inside her heart. "Dohmenic..."

"Get down on the bed," He hissed, grasping her wrists and pulling them off him. His control snapped as he inhaled her powerful, needy scent - a call to his entire male being. He roughly led her backwards, pushing her down on the mattress once more. "Lie down for me, dahna. Show yourself to me."

She moaned and did as he said, laying down flat and spreading her legs wide while he pushed her silk dress up, revealing her wet folds. His eyes glazed over with nothing but dark, primal desire. He rumbled like an animal and brought his nose down to her cleft, stopping inches above her. Breathing in her sugary scent, he groaned harshly and gripped her thighs, yanking her to him with a snarl.

"You make it so fucking hard to rule a kingdom," He snarled against her leg. His lips tickled her inner thighs as he pressed rough kisses against it, scraping his teeth over her skin. She squirmed and curled her hands in the sheets, trying to control herself. She needed him so badly, the ache was worse than the burn of no blood.

"Please..." She begged. She didn't know why, couldn't explain it, but her need for him was rising with each passing day, almost exploding each time he touched her in any way. She couldn't help it; her body wanted him, and it would desist until it got all of him.

He rumbled again and finally kissed her mound. She gasped and tried to grind her hips, but he stopped her. He locked her down and forced her to lie still.

"You get so wet for me," He told. "You get so ready, dahna. You don't know how fucking painful it is to stay away from you. Had I been a lesser male, I would've taken you right this moment until you begged for mercy."

She suddenly felt his finger slip inside her, and like electrocuted, she arched up and clenched around him. Her core gripped his single finger, felt as it pushed in and out of her, caressing her insides. A moan fell from her lips, and with a small sob, she writhed again when she felt him add another finger.

She could hear her wetness, could hear it as his fingers pumped in and out of her, bending slightly inside her. Her breath was becoming more and more labored and the tug inside her abdomen was almost painful. She cried out and arched, but once again, the Dralan pushed her down.

"You're glistening for me," The Dralan's voice was a dominant rumble, coated in lust. "You're making all this just for me. For my cock. You want me right here, dahna."

His fingers moved inside her and bent against a spot that made her slam her hand over her mouth to muffle a scream. He continued striking mercilessly against it until her entire core was convulsing around him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here one day, sweet Leyla," She suddenly felt his breath on her clit; he whispered his promise to it, as if it was going to be their little secret. "I'm going to make you come so hard and so many times for me, you won't be able to move for days after I've been inside you."

"Dohmenic!" She cried and clenched around his fingers as her climax washed over her in pure, endless tides of ecstasy. She moaned out nonsense, but kept pleading his name, feeling his fingers torture her spot till the wetness inside of her dripped out. Just as she thought he was done with her, his mouth closed around her clit and sucked it harshly into his mouth. She screamed out as his tongue teased the burning little nub till she grew dizzy and disoriented from the pleasure. Her core was contracting in spasms around him and her clit was throbbing under his assault, but there was no stopping him.

And that's when she realized; he was never going to be done with her.

A sweet, sugary scent started exuding from the pores of her skin. Gasping, her eyes flew open when the Dralan stilled between her legs, smelling it as well. Then, with the deepest rumble, he started rubbing his cheek against her thigh.

Her mating scent was fermenting the air and the Dralan was willingly rubbing it on his body, claiming it. He let her taint his skin and mix with his scent, allowing it to combine with his own. She felt him hum in appreciation—in pride as she claimed him.

"Dohmenic..." She whispered. She felt like crying, but didn't know if it was happy or sad tears. She had claimed him—had coated him with her scent, but was that really a good thing? Her mind was supposed to have claimed another man, a man who could one day give her what she needed; blood and love.

"Leyla," The Dralan arose from between her legs and climbed in over her, pulling her limp body to his. He cupped her face and pressed his forehead against hers. "You're mine and I'm yours. I'm proud to wear your scent, dahna. I'm proud to have your taste in my mouth. I'm proud to have you in my arms right now. Whatever happens from here on out, know that no matter what my responsibilities are, I will always be yours."

Leyla squeezed her eyes shut when he lightly pressed a kiss to her cheek, a feathery sweet one that told all the unspoken words between the lines.

His heart would always be hers, no matter who he was bound to give it to.

She turned her head and caught his lips - kissed him and tasted her own sweet nectar on him, the sugary flavor like honey. It was so unlike his own, dark, spicy and male. She had never tasted a sweeter thing.

"I have to go," He finally said and dragged his lips from hers with a deep exhale. "Be ready for me tonight, dahna. Bathe for me. Dress nicely for me. I'll be back in your arms before you know it."

With a last kiss, he then stood up and smoothed down his jacket. He left before she changed his mind again and therefore watched him go, feeling her body call out to him as his did. Her heart twisted when the door closed, closing her in to the coldness of his absence.

But strangely enough, she felt warm all over.

*

"I don't know what's happening. Is it him or is it me who's changed?"

Leyla looked at Bhria as they sat in her parlor, sewing. After the Dralan had told her he was embracing the day of his birth, she knew she had no time to waste; calling Bhria to help her with her project, the two females had gotten busy with measuring, designing and sewing what they needed. During the whole thing, Leyla had divulged how things between her and the Dralan had changed.

There was no more conflict between them. Only the impurity of her blood separated them now and his duty to his kingdom. Yet somehow, they had found a way to coexist.

But for how long until neither of them could avoid the inevitable?

"I think... you've both changed," Bhria replied. "The palace feels it too. The Dralan seems more determined and stronger than ever, and it's coming from the strength of his Mihr."

Leyla felt strange accepting such a compliment. All she had done was love him - a male she couldn't love. "I just wish..." Her eyes fell to the red fabric in her lap. "I just wish that things could be different. I have no right to say that, I know," She whispered. She was being so selfish. She knew in her heart that no other female would ever love him like she loved him. No matter who he found with pure, royal blood, her weak blood would forever love and nourish him better. She wanted to tell him that, but how could she? It wasn't her place, and it wasn't fair to the kingdom. He needed strong heirs, and her mediocre blood could never give him that.

Sometimes, love just wasn't enough.

"It's not wrong," Her Kischmir carefully leaned forward and laid a hand over Leyla's that trembled ever so slightly with grief. It was hard loving a male whom you knew could never be yours, truly. "Everyone can see you belong together. No old laws can deny that."

And yet it still did. Blinking away a few tears, Leyla sucked in a breath and strengthened herself. She should enjoy the happiness she had now instead of counting the days till her luck ran out. She decided to change the subject to distract her thoughts.

"Speaking of belonging together," She said and let a little smile curve on her lip. "How are things with you and Callath? Has he tried anything further with you?"

The female in front of her grew into a pink shade. Grinning at her guilty expression, Leyla's mood perked up instantly.

"He did! What did he do? Can I know?" She was curious as to what had her Kischmir blushing to such a delicate shade. Watching her squirm a little, she waited till she was brave enough.

"He... he gave me control," She finally whispered. When Leyla's eyes grew wide, she timidly continued; "H-he... shackled himself down and... submitted to me. As an act of trust."

Leyla cupped her mouth. She was in complete shock. Males never surrendered. Ever. Especially not when it came to these sorts of things. It was their way of asserting themselves as the dominant; mounting their females and making them expel sounds no other male could make them say. They even loved to brag, Leyla knew. They loved sharing stories and comparing how and in which crude ways they made a female submit to them.

But as she now heard, it appeared Callath had broken through his ego to allow Bhria a sense of control she had lacked in her horrible past. To do such a thing... it was unheard of. She definitely couldn't imagine the Kathmir bragging to his friends about this.

But perhaps he wasn't a braggadocios male.

"That... that's incredible," Leyla finally pushed out after the initial shock evaporated. "What happened next, what did you do?"

"I, we..." The female stumbled over her words and clumsily got them out. "We... we m-made out, and I... I slept besides him till the morning."

Leyla's heart swelled. Her friend had overcome so much, and the sheer and utter patience and restraint the Kathmir was showing was unparalleled. It spoke depths to Leyla of how much the male was truly whipped; The lengths he would go to to be with her.

Looking at her Kischmir, Leyla discovered she wasn't smiling like she was. Warily, she frowned and paused her sewing. "But that sounds amazing, Bhria. How come you aren't happy?"

"I am," She quickly whispered back. But there was something in her voice that still didn't sound right.

"What is it then?" Leyla softly asked. Something was bothering her.

"It's... it's my brother," She finally confessed. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her sewing kit down. "He's been acting different lately. I think he's been avoiding me. I don't know why."

"Oh," Leyla sat up and quickly scooted her chair closer. "Acting different how?"

"I can't explain it," The Kischmir shook her head, hopelessly. "I think... I think it has something to do with the war. He could be leaving any day, and I think that's why he's distancing himself from me. Maybe... maybe he knows..." The female's voice broke, "M-maybe he k-knows he's going to d-die."

"Don't say that!" Leyla wrapped her arm around her friend as she broke down into tears. "He's not going to die. Nobody knows that. He could maybe just be busy preparing?" Leyla suggested. "The Dralan is working his Lathras harder these days. He could just be exhausted and focusing on his duty."

Bhria slowly sat up, wiping her cheeks. "Y-you're right... you're probably right." She bravely tried to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you with my trouble, you need to stay happy and strong," She begun pulling away to dry her eyes, but Leyla only wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in for a hug.

"I will always be there for you, Bhria." She hugged the female tightly, feeling her tremble ever so softly. "Just as your brother will. I'm sure whatever he's going through will pass and he'll return to his normal self. Everyone is just stressing over the war these days."

Bhria nodded quietly, hugging her friend back. "You're right." She repeated. "I'm sure I'm making a fuss over nothing. He's probably fine," She pulled back and Leyla finally allowed her to dry her tears, giving her a small smile. "He just needs to get his head straight."

Byhron

Wrapping his hand around the slender, soft neck, his muscles tautened as her moan echoed through the hall.

Swaying into the female in front of him, he tried to block out her sounds and sentences. Every small, breathy moan from her mouth seemed to go in tact with his cock striking deep within her. She cried out in pleasure, arching herself perfectly for him.

The Kischmir had been willing. Just like the one before her. They all hummed in delight as he had leaned down to their ears and asked them if he could have their company. Being that he was a respectable male and never took advantage of their approaches, they had all but thrown themselves against him as he knocked on their doors.

Tightening his grip around her throat and hip, he kept her body bent forward and locked against him. His hips rocked behind her and plummeted his cock deeply inside her with each sharp thrust. The Kischmir cried out again, her voice controlled in no way as he took her behind the pillar.

Byhron gritted his teeth and shut his eyes as he felt her inner walls clench around his starved cock. For months he had restricted himself—chained himself. The sensation that went through him as the Kischmir tightened around him held only a semblance of something pleasure-related.

The images in his head never left him. They tormented him. He tried to shove them away, block them out, but they reappeared as stubborn hallucinations in his mind.

He hadn't been there when it happened. There was no way he would ever know what they had truly done to her, but her injuries and the state they had left her in had painted a much too vivid picture.

Her, being forced down, begging for mercy. She had been so young. So goddamn little. Grinding his molars, Byhron suppressed a dark growl and pressed the tips of his fingers into the hip of the unknowing Kischmir before him. Her sporadic and erratic cries were proof she was still enjoying herself - blissfully unaware of the torture streaming through his head.

He felt sick to his stomach as the images in his head evolved to the sound of the Kischmir's moans. He could feel himself losing his own battle, the hallucinations taking overhand. Pushing harder into the female, she cried and clenched around him, calling out his name.

Just like that, he felt her inner walls grip around him, the thing he had been waiting for. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pumped a few more times, but then stilled, feeling the tremors overtake him as well.

His cock spilled inside her and her convulsing core milked him for all that he was. Breathing raggedly through his teeth, he let the sensation pass through him in seconds before finally feeling her release him from her tight prison.

Slipping out, he buckled up his pants and helped the female stand up straight. She cupped her lower back and moaned a little, wincing as she moved. With a dazed eyes, she then turned towards him and smiled up at him, licking her pink lips. "T-thank you, Milord. It was an honor serving you."

Byhron shut his eyes.

An honor serving him.

An honor - as if the act of them fucking had been nothing but a shoe polishing or a breakfast well-cooked, she thanked him for letting her do this for him.

But hadn't it been?

Nodding woodenly, dismissing the Kischmir, Byhron turned and ran a hand through his tousled hair. The female curtsied behind him, as if it wasn't enough. He instantly remembered why he had stopped sleeping with the Kischmirs, apart from the obvious reasons.

Walking away, leaving the Kischmir behind the pillar to fix her unruly hair and messy dress, he strode down the hall in a fast a fast pace, the sound of his heavy boots thumping against the stone floor.

His orgasm had been as empty as the act of their fucking; a simple means to a simple pleasure. It had been almost non-existent, as graspable as air. He should've learned by now.

Real pleasure didn't exist. It was a figment of imagination, a tale exaggerated from heavy spirits and alcoholic beverages. Pleasure was a lie. There was only one thing in this world that was real.

Pain.

And unlike pleasure, pain was something Byhron enjoyed. Pain was his best companion; his only true friend.

And after this disastrous attempt to prove an asinine point, he was going to go and get nicely reacquainted with his best friend.