Leyla

Awaking next morning to a gentle hand touching her cheek, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up, sleepily.

"My dahna," Her Dralan's voice murmured beautifully in her ear. She couldn't help but hum and smile as he brushed a golden curl away from her face and brushed her cheek with his thumb again. "There's a letter for you."

The words took a moment to register in her tired mind, but once they did, she blinked and abruptly sat up. "A letter?"

The Dralan stood fully dressed besides the bed, wearing a red jacket and black breeches. He must've gotten up before her. As she sat up, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled an envelope out from his breast pocket. Scribbled onto the crisp parchment was her name. She didn't recognize the handwriting.

Who on earth would write her? All her relatives were gone, perished. She had never had the likes of friends as she had always been moving from city to city in fear of being caught by a mihr hunter. Her only friend was Bhria, but she lived here in the castle. She couldn't think of any person who would write her or even know how to find her!

Perhaps reading the quiver of shock on her face, the Dralan took her palm and lifted it to his lips. Kissing the top, he put the letter in her hand. "Since we left Amascahr, I have been keeping in touch with Lord Amasgohn to make sure they remained safe and protected. During our correspondence, I asked about the Lady Kahtrina and her recovery."

Leyla's heart froze up. "Oh." Of course she hadn't forgotten about the tragedy. At the mention of her name, her gut fell heavy. "How... how is she?"

"You can read her letter and find out yourself."

Her eyes widened. The Lady Kahtrina had written to her?!

Before Leyla could snatch the letter open, the Dralan pulled it back. Confused, she frowned up at him and saw him press his lips tightly together. "What is it?"

The Dralan took a moment before he replied. "You never got a chance to see her before we left."

"I know," She answered. "They wouldn't let me."

"They were acting on my orders. I didn't want you to see... what had been done to her."

An uncomfortable ache stretched inside her heart. Leyla had to swallow a lump before she hesitantly asked the question she had long feared the answer to. "What happened to her?"

The Dralan shook his head and clenched his teeth. She suddenly smelt anger wafting from him in thick waves. "I won't ever tell you the specifics, dahna, but take my word when I say it was bad."

When his body began shaking with fury, Leyla automatically reached out and touched his arm. She rubbed him soothingly, taking his pain. He eased under her touch and let out a calm breath.

"This letter is not written by her personally," He finally said and held the letter out to her. "It was written by one of her Kischmirs who has been helping her recover. Due to her injuries, she's not... able to hold a quill," His body tensed up ever so slightly again and he bit his teeth together. "Or talk. As I understand it from Amasgohn, she is only capable of pointing to letters on a piece of parchment. The Kischmir wrote this letter for her from that. The letters may not be hers, but the words are. They are for just you, Leyla."

Unsure of how to feel after his confession, Leyla shakily took the letter. She looked up at her Dralan for a long moment, watching him give her a reassuring nod, before she looked down again and slowly pried the letter open. She tore through the seal and gulped as she unfolded the note.

My dearest Leyla,

Time moves and life is unfair. Everything is a game and it's not up to us, the players, how the outcome shall be. Some survive, while others must be sacrificed. Neither can be blamed for the outcome of the other's fate.

I heard from many, including the Dralan himself, that they blamed themselves for what happened to me, but you above the rest of them. Had he not been seeking you, Leyla, he still would have sought me eventually; As he does all us clean-blooded females.

I know the Dralan forbade you to see me before your departure, and while I think his choice at the time was probably for the best, I regret not bidding you farewell. I never got to thank you for supporting me in the matter of my former engagement with the Dralan, but I do feel I managed to create a friendship with you, even if it lasted shortly.

My injuries has taken long to heal, but my soul even longer. I hardly sleep, and if I do, I see his face.

Leyla. I am writing to you not to pity myself, but to warn you; He is coming for you. He will see no end until he has taken the Dralan down and mounted his throne. Your blood is what stands in his way, and he will do everything in his power to tear you down.

That being said, I want you not to cower away. The first weeks of my recovery, I cried and begged for death to come upon me so the image of his face would never haunt me again. However, upon one restless night, gazing out at the moon and praying to the Blithesome Miss, I realized my fear only empowered him.

It wasn't easy, but I made a choice that night. He might have scarred my body and taken my voice, but he will never take my fire. He tried to make me an example, but instead I've decided to show him just how strong a female truly is. Phlague will see that though he has broken me, he did not break through our fear.

So you mustn't fear him, sweet Leyla. You must be wary of him. Keep the Dralan protected and strong, and make sure he feeds you when you require it. I know that one day soon, his blood will eradicate the blood of his nemesis and free our lands once and for all.

But he needs a strong female by his side to succeed.

- You must be that female, Leyla.

My blood might be Amasgohn's and it might hold status, but my blood is no match to the power that flows in yours. For every sip the Dralan takes from your vein, he grows stronger. It is undeniable.

I believe The Blithesome Miss makes no mistakes. She took my innocence away to give me these visions and bring them to you. I have no doubt in my mind the kingdom won't survive without you by the Dralan's side, and that one day, my dearest Leyla, you will sit on the throne with our King and rule alongside him. You might just be a Bahk by blood, but your heart pumps the power of a Dralaq.

I wish you all the best, sweet Leyla, and pray for all the females in the kingdom that the Dralan shall realize this, too. It's time traditions change.

Be safe and protect our King.

With love and strong blood,
Lady Kahtrina

By the time she was done and folded the letter up, Leyla had tears in her eyes. She cupped her mouth and let out a sob, feeling the Dralan lift her and cradle her in his arms.

"No tears, dahna," He whispered. He kissed her hair softly and wiped the wetness away from her cheek. "What did she say?"

Leyla tried to rein in her emotions, but they were all over the place. Hiccuping a little, she breathed in his musky scent, the enticing, dark spice that lingered around him.

Should she tell him? He did say the words were just for her, and they truly had been. The Lady Kahtrina had voiced her thoughts and Leyla had been humbled and shocked by them.

Her, as Dralaq? She had never had the courage to think about such a thing. It simply wasn't possible. Her blood wasn't strong enough, despite what the Lady Kahtrina said.

But she also said traditions needed to change...

It was too much. Too much for Leyla to wrap her mind around. It wasn't for the Dralan to hear, either; if he hadn't deemed her worthy of his throne by now, she didn't want to bring up the matter. She wanted him to make an impartial decision without any outside voices. Besides, the very idea of becoming his Dralaq...

Leyla's heart fluttered, but her gut twisted. She wouldn't know how to rule a kingdom. Granted that was his job, but the title came with demands. What if she couldn't carry his youngs...?

"Leyla," His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. The Dralan lifted her chin up and made her meet his electric blue eyes. "Talk to me."

Gulping, Leyla blinked away her tears. Then, she sucked in a breath. "She... she told me to be strong. That... I shouldn't fear Phlague. She... the Lady Kahtrina has decided to rise above him and not let him destroy her soul as well. She encouraged me to not fall prey to his fear, too."

She saw a glimmer of surprise, but pride inside the Dralan's eyes. Then, with a soft hum, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

"She is an incredible female," He acknowledged, cupping her face. Leyla silently agreed. "Her strength will no doubt rub off on the female community."

Leyla hoped so too, but then realized what the Lady Kahtrina had truly told her.

Leyla was currently in a strong position, soldiered next to the Dralan himself. Her word and her strength could just as equally be shared if she stayed strong and faithful to the King. She was the only female who was currently keeping him alive, and her strength and courage could inspire others. She could be a feminine voice for the kingdom.

"She also told me to protect you..." She therefore said and saw as the Dralan lifted his gaze and met hers. He stared at her through hooded eyes. "To feed you well and let you grow strong from me."

His grip around her body tightened. "You already do, Mihrisa," He purred. A tingle went through her body as he called her that once more. Even despite what they had done together, she remained a Mihrisa in his eyes. "Your blood strengthens me more than you know."

Leyla reached up and brushed a hand over his cheek. The stubbles that grew there scratched against her palm and made her body feel aflame with need. Smelling her scent, the Dralan rumbled.

"Drink from me," She encouraged, tilting her head, exposing her vein. Glancing up at him, she saw his fangs elongate from his mouth and poke out sharply. A look of possession slid over his face.

"Leyla," He growled and gripped her slender neck, letting his thumb slide along her throbbing vein. A deep, yearning sound emanated from his chest. "You make me feel invincible, yet so powerless against you..."

She purred and bit her lip, feeling her own fangs extend as she smelled his arousal and need flowing in the air like perfume. It enthralled her and made her comb her hand to the back of his neck, teasing through his hair. "Feed from me..."

It was all he needed to let go with a groan and dip down to pierce her neck with his fangs.

Long, healthy gulps of her blood left her body and seeped into him. Both of them moaned as they shared the transfer; the sensation of uniting strengths.

Leyla could feel his fangs throbbing in her neck, could feel the throb of his erection jut against her thigh. Reaching down, her hand acted on instinct and unbuckled his belt, sinking into his breeches. Feeling his hard, unyielding length pulse in her hand, she began stroking him, catching a bead of his arousal as it seeped from his tip. The Dralan groaned and grasped her hand, guiding it to the base of his erection. Cupping his heavy sac, she squeezed him lightly and felt him bite harder into her neck.

He drank her blood with fervor while she pleased him and moaned for him. She could feel the power building inside him, spreading, soaring. He hissed painfully when she rubbed his tip and captured his seeds as they ruptured. He groaned and detached from her vein with a hazy look in his eyes, blinded by the taste of her blood and his climax.

Not wasting a second, Leyla pressed her mouth to his and softly bit into his bottom lip, capturing it between her fangs. His eyes opened and he sat still, crazy lust darkening inside his orbs. When she sucked on his bottom lip and tasted her own blood, he growled and grabbed the back of her head, pushing her lips to his. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and stole her flavor back, drinking her blood from her lips. Leyla moaned and trembled as she felt him curl his arm around her body and then throw her down on the bed. In nothing more than a second, he was on top of her, kissing down her neck, licking up her wound.

"My Leyla," He growled, possessiveness and claim echoing firmly in his voice. He kissed her spent vein and breathed her in with defeat as his mating scent began seeping from his pores. "My female... you make me... crazy..."

Leyla hummed, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin as he sighed deeply against her neck.

"We need to talk, dahna," He then surprised her by saying. His next words surprised her even more. "I need your advice."

When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, Leyla was sure her own were as big as saucers. She quickly sat up as he ran a hand through his hair, his telltale sign when something was bothering him.

"You want... my advice?" She wouldn't believe she had heard him correctly. A male was asking her for advice—the Dralan himself. Was she dreaming?

"The twelfth Moon is coming up," He coarsely replied. "My advisers and my councilors are all in a battle on whether or not I should host the annual celebration. Even Callath has given me his opinion, but I need yours. You're the only one without an agenda. Tell me, Leyla. What do you think?"

A warmth inside her, unlike anything she had ever felt before, spread everywhere inside her. Her chest tightened and made her loud heartbeats seems so much louder. He wanted her to help him decide... what to do about his birthday.

"You're at war," She said, taking his hand and softly lifting it to her lips. She kissed his ring and then released a breath. She understood his worries without him voicing them. "But to me, that's all the more reason to do it. Show the people you will not be taken off your throne or shaken away from your traditions. You are the Dralan; Our protector. Show us your strength by showing us you aren't scared of him."

The Dralan growled lowly, but turned towards her and gently cupped her cheek. "I'm not. He will pay for what he has done to my kingdom and my females in it, but I do not fear him should he come to my palace tomorrow morning and face me like a true male. I'd fight him and show every traitorous vampire in this kingdom who has aided him what strength truly is," The Dralan snarled and stood up, but leaned down to her ear. "My pure blood conquers his any day."

And then, with a burst, all the candlelights in the room went out, just as the curtains shifted and the chandelier above them shook. The Dralan rose up and fixed his red jacket with a stone cold face. Leyla smiled up at him and felt pride ooze from her pores.

This was the King she knew and loved.

- Loved.

Callath

Even without his sight, any male with the slightest idea could tell on the Dralan, he was a male in love.

Callath watched his friend as he fought against Lathras who had taken up his challenge. Four against one pureblooded vampire was hardly a fair fight; The Dralan was chopping them to the ground like crops on a field.

As the last Lathra fell, there ran a collective clap and cheer of approval through the soldiers for their leader. His Lathras didn't question his strength. They looked up to it. Besides from keeping the Dralan exercised and his skills sharp, these little training sessions in the dirt circle outside, it keep the Lathras motivated and reminded them whom they were fighting for and whom they would lose against if they ever switched loyalty.

The Dralan was the King. The only rightful ruler of Drala there ever would exist until the day he produced his first male offspring.

Callath shifted on his feet as the Dralan left the circle and walked towards him. Dirt and sweat tainted his skin, but the Dralan merely walked up and grabbed the canteen from his hands. Gulping down the water, Callath waited till his king was hydrated again.

"Had enough for one day, Sire?" Callath smirked as the Dralan shot him a glance—a glance that told him everything he needed to know. One more word and he would find himself in the mud, too, ass first.

"There's an important matter I need to discuss with you," The Dralan informed him. The tone of his voice was a low thing, irritated. It sounded ominous.

Without question, Callath gave him a courteous bow with his head and then followed his King back up to the castle. They walked down the halls, the other Kathmirs and Kischmirs lowering their heads and bowing for their Dralan as they passed them. Callath stayed a respectful 5 feet behind him, never questioning his place in life.

Even with having grown up alongside the Dralan, Callath had never envied him once. Being the Dralan came with unlimited power, but it meant certain sacrifices and restraints that Callath knew he never could've abided.

The top being the matter of choosing any female he wanted.

As they finally stepped into his study, the Dralan ordered his guard to lock up after them and keep anyone else from entering. Callath felt his suspicion and curiosity rise, but stayed mute while the Dralan walked up to a cart and poured up two goblets of red wine. He handed one to Callath who took it and rose a brow. They only drank together when they had something to celebrate. "Sire?"

The Dralan rose his goblet and gave him a tight smile. "To better times."

They both drank, though Callath still wondered what had the Dralan in such a great mood. Judging on his scent, he hadn't taken his female yet, so at least he could rule that out; Nothing brought a smile to a male's lips like pussy.

"Forgive me for asking, but what are we celebrating?" He finally implored. He was never one to pass up good wine, but it was high noon and before lunch. If the Dralan was toasting, something good had to have happened.

"The Lady Kahtrina." The Dralan took a seat at a table and offered Callath the seat across from him. "She is recovering well, according to Amasgohn. Her health is growing each day."

Callath gripped his goblet and now felt the urge to toast again. He vividly remember the damage she had been exposed to. "That is indeed good news." But as great as it was, he knew it wasn't what had the Dralan smirking.

"She took it upon herself to reach out to Leyla. She wrote her a letter."

Now they were getting to the core of things. "Oh?"

"She had help from a Kischmir, but the letter was her thoughts nonetheless. I handed it to Leyla this morning."

"Did you read it?"

The Dralan shook his head. "It arrived with a letter of my own, wherein the instructions said the letter was for her only. I was there when she read it."

Callath's curiosity was brimming over the edge. "And?" What had been in that letter that had caused such a rise in the Dralan's mood?

"Whatever the Lady Kahtrina wrote..." The Dralan smiled as he looked at his goblet. "It has strengthened her, Callath. It has strengthened Leyla. After reading her words, something inside her has changed. I can sense it."

And there it was. His female was thriving and her empowerment was rubbing off on him. There was an old saying; One is only as strong as the blood one drinks. It was derived from the ancient times and originated with the Dralans cardinal rule to only drink from the purest females there existed; virgins. They were untarnished and unsoiled, therefore still pure as The Blithesome Miss had created them. By drinking their blood, you were drinking from The Blithesome Miss's holy tap.

But, in other translations, the saying also meant the mental strength of the blood. Heart, mind and blood were all connected. If the owner of the blood was weak and fatigued, the blood, no matter how pure, would never strengthen you. If the owner was strong, however, fierce and empowered, the blood was close to invincible.

His Mihrisa—his Mihr—had been slowly falling apart after the incident in Amascahr. Kisses and affection could only do so much; in the end, the female had to rise to her own strength and battle her own demons. Just as any male.

Leyla, for whatever reason, had found her new strength in the Lady Kahtrina's uprising and channeled her words and them fuel her soul. The Dralan, by the looks of his healthy glow and strength in the circle today, had fed from her this morning and nourished off that power.

Leyla was strong and she was strengthening their King.

"That is truly remarkable," Callath said, a smile of genuine happiness tugging on his lips. He rose his goblet and let the Dralan clank his own against it. "To better, stronger times."

The males both drank and emptied their goblets. The Dralan then set down his own and let a pleased smirk taint his features, obvious pride emanating from his aura.

Her strength meant his strength. His strength meant victory over the whole of the kingdom.

"I understand you have been finding strength of your own," He suddenly voiced and looked at Callath. At seeing his knowing glance, Callath pursed his lips, neither confirming or denying anything. "My Leyla's Kischmir. Are you feeding from her?"

Callath leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. There was no point in hiding it. "I am."

"Have you taken her to your bed?"

He shifted, but finally met the Dralan's eyes when he kept staring at him. "No."

"Do you intend to?"

"It's complicated."

The Dralan nodded, apprehensively. For some reason, he tensed up. "I have never had a blood brother, but you know I consider you my closest family, Callath."

Callath shifted again and felt a tightening in his throat. He cleared it a bit. Why was he bringing that up? "I am honored, Sire."

The Dralan sighed and closed his eyes. "You know I wish you happiness. Don't you?"

"Yes...?" He watched as the Dralan gritted his teeth and finally stood up, pacing back and forth. There was clearly more to his interest in his love life than just knowing whether or not he was getting laid. "Sire?"

"You know I wouldn't ask you if I had any other options, but given the new developments, I don't."

"I am always at your service," Callath watched his friend pause up and sigh heavily through his nostrils. "Whatever you need, I will always serve you, Dohmenic. You know that."

The Dralan finally gave up whatever rested on his chest. He gripped onto the edge of the chair and leaned over. Then, he sighed one last time and voiced his request.

"I need you to feed Leyla."