Leyla

Hours passed by. Leyla regained her strength and was up and walking about in the Dralan's room in to time, but she was afraid to touch anything. His furniture were gilded in gold and were of the finest handcraft she had ever seen. She wondered just how much of it he had made himself.

His bed, the one she had been resting on, was the size of a pond; Big, round, with a headboard solidified and encased by gold, and pillars that went into the high ceiling and were draped with light blue curtains that could shadow the bed if needed. The rest of his space was ginormous with a fireplace, two luxurious couches, closets, and most importantly, a marbled bathtub that stood proudly in one corner behind a golden divider. The bath salts and soaps were endless inside a cabinet that was stuffed with all things essential for cleaning; Towels, cloths, a ceramic jug, rose petals, candle wax for hair removal and shaving foam for grooming.

Leyla could hardly believe what she saw, but she knew now why The Blithesome Miss had led her here; She was to serve the Dralan in whatever way he saw fit. From what he had spoken to her, she had understood he just wanted to feed from her, but something inside his electric blue eyes had told her he wanted more from her. So much more.

Shuddering by the thought, she chose to focus on what was the plan for now; All she had to do was be at his disposal whenever he needed her vein, and in return, he would offer her safety.

Safety. A thing she had sought out her whole life, but never found. Maybe this was where she would finally find it. Who better to be protected by than the Dralan of their kingdom, the purest blooded vampire in the world? A legend said that the purer the blood, the stronger the vampire. If that was true, that meant the Dralan had to be incredibly powerful. But if he didn't get his daily dosage of blood, he would lose that strength. The way she saw it, he needed her so he could protect her. Her own blood would help keep her safe.

The door to the Dralan's room got opened and Leyla spun around, only to find the very Dralan himself finally return. He was wearing his ceremonial robe, the ones that the highest priests wore when they payed tribute to The Blithesome Miss. Perhaps he had been praying in her honor, the finding of a Mihr, or a Mihrisa, as he had called her.

Leyla dropped to her knees and knelt deeply before him, leaning her forehead against her hands, which she rested against the clean floor. She heard his footsteps approach her, before she saw them stop before her fingertips.

"Rise, my sweet Mihrisa."

She did, slowly getting to her feet, but kept her head and eyes tilted down. It was only when his hand caught her chin and forced her head up, she met his eyes.

She held her breath when the electrical blue eyes looked down deeply at her, piercing her body like two small, but powerful knives. He was so tall, she had to crane her head back. His lips twitched, as her own lips parted, when her lungs began to beg for oxygen. "Breathe, Mihrisa. It's time we talk."

On his command, she willed her mouth to suck in a breath and then swallow when her throat felt awfully dry.

"Good. Now tell me, where do you stem from, Leyla?" He conversed, dropping his hand from her chin. He walked around her to his closet.

"I-I... I stem from Eraldrulth, my Lord," Leyla truthfully replied, not daring to turn around when she heard the sound of fabric being manipulated.

"Why did you come to my castle?" More ruffling of clothes. She could only imagine what he was doing.

"I-I was on the run from the Mihr hunters," She stammered, swallowing hard again when she heard the rattle of metal now. What was he doing? "They invaded my village and raped every Mihr they found."

The rustling stopped for one long moment and when he spoke again, his voice sound strained, furious. "They shall pay for that. They all will."

Leyla held her breath until he begun fiddling again with whatever he was doing. She exhaled shakily and kept her eyes focused on the wall ahead of her.

"Continue speaking, Mihrisa. Why did you choose to come to me and my castle?"

"I-I asked The Blithesome Miss for guidance. S-she led me here and I took a job as a Kischmir to ensure myself some safety." She told in a rush, trying to keep her voice calm. She failed. "I-I offered to work for free, if they would just grant me a warm safe bed."

The Dralan finally finished whatever he was doing and she now heard footsteps coming closer. She sensed his strong body right behind her, but she didn't dare look.

"Turn around, Mihrisa."

On his command she did, facing him, but again felt caught up by his powerful eyes. They were glowing more so than usual.

"I promise you, nothing will ever happen to while you are under my protection," He said, slowly cupping her cheek. He leaned closer and made her breath falter. "You are my Mihrisa, and as of right now, you are the most important thing to me. Trust me when I say, you will never be scared again, as long as you do as I command."

Leyla nodded shakily and pressed her lips tightly together. He was wearing real clothes now, a dark purple button-up shirt with a pair of black breeches, both of which suited his muscular frame and accentuated just how masculine his body was. Further more, he also wore a thick leather belt around his waist, a belt which held an assortment of daggers; One dagger had an ominous red blade.

He finally released her head after a long moment and begun walking around her. She didn't move.

"You are a Mihrisa now," He said, his deep voice vibrating through her bones. She felt his hand connect with the back of her Kischmir robe, tracing a line across the many buttons on her back. She shivered. "That means you won't have to wear this anymore."

He popped the first button at the nape of her neck, the second one following soon after. Leyla's breath caught and she completely froze.

"I will bring you clothes, Mihrisa. Proper clothes, to suit your status. In the mean time, I want you to bathe," He leaned in to her ear and his breath caressed her neck and shoulder. "I want you to clean yourself for me. Prepare your skin and body for my next feed. Mihrisa, I want you to bathe for me as if I was there with you."

Leyla's lips parted as a soundless moan escaped her. Her body felt more and more alit with every button he popped, slowly making his way down her spine, to the curve of her back. Each button he popped exposed more of her skin to the bitter cold, yet it was that part of her skin that felt the warmest, the most scorched.

"Will you do that for me, sweet Mihrisa?" He purred in her ear, making all the hairs on her exposed back and neck rise. "Will you bathe your body tenderly and thoroughly for me with your sweet touch, so that I may indulge myself the next time I wish to feed from you?"

Shakily nodding, Leyla felt her stomach and the spot below it tingle with something wild, something that made her knees feel wobbly and unstable. Her hands were itching to touch something, but she didn't know what.

"Good girl," He whispered to her, before popping the last button at the base of her back, close to her rear.

He took a step away from her and immediately left her feeling cold. But just then, a concern popped into her head.

"My lord?"

"Yes, Mihrisa?"

"What about... my needs?"

She couldn't see him, but she felt the air shift and the mood change, suddenly feeling arctic.

"Who did you feed from before?"

"A Kathmir named Ahrron," She replied, now suddenly thinking about where he was. Did he wonder what had happened to her or did he know already? Gossip went fast, after all.

"Did he please your taste?" The words seemed hostile, even angry. But they were still sincere.

"Y-yes," She nervously whispered. "But only if it pleases the Dralan's as well."

The mood changed again and suddenly she felt him right behind her again. His nose traced the curve of her neck, making her shudder and her body throb.

"So pliant," He whispered, his lips grazing her skin. "A perfect female..."

There was a long pause where all he did was take in the smell of her skin. She felt like he wanted to do more, the thick musky scent in the air anything to go by. But he controlled himself and finally pulled back.

"I will find a solution for you, Mihrisa. I want you only feeding from someone I see fit. Until then, you are only to eat normal food. Understood?"

Leyla nodded and felt the tension ease. "Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now bathe," He hummed, gliding a single finger down from the nape of her neck to the juncture of her hips. She shivered again. "Bathe for me." And then he left her.

Leyla had never wanted to bathe so much in her life.

Dohmenic

He had never met a woman so pliant.

The very thought of her obedient, submissive behavior was making the blood rush to his loins, hardening him. She was perfect. When he had asked her if she liked the taste of that Kathmir's blood, she had replied yes, but only if it pleased him, too. She showed her respect for him. Her loyalty. She knew what she should say, and when to speak and when not to speak. A part of him wanted her to disobey him just once, just so he could see what she would do to please him again; The lengths she would go to, the punishment she would mercifully receive... Would she spread her legs to him? He bet she would.

Shaking his head, he ridded himself of his impure thoughts. She was too precious to waste on something as unholy as fulfilling his carnal needs. He would never penetrate her sacrosanct body with anything but his fangs. Even if he craved to bite into her fulsome breasts and feast on the fluids between her legs.

Growling when his erection begun pressing painfully against his pants, he readjusted himself and kept walking down the deserted hallways.

He couldn't think of her like that. She was a Mihrisa, even the slightest touch he administered to her body could rob her of that title. He had to be careful. Touching her back was just on the limit. Looking at her naked would be a true violation. Kissing her would demean her to a Mihr again. And feasting on the juices between her legs would definitely make her nothing but any other Mihr he had had over time. None had been as pure as her.

So he would stay away from her. And so would everybody else. He was concerned about what to do when she would need her thirst sated. Before her, he had always used Lathras to sate his Mihrs. But he couldn't trust any of them anymore.

He didn't like the idea of her drinking from another male, in fact it drove him nearly insane. The thought of her sinking her small fangs into another male, bowing before him while he offered her his blood, it made him see red. Whoever this Ahrron was, he was positive he wouldn't be able to stand him feeding his Mihrisa. But what was the alternative? Letting her starve? No way. But she also couldn't drink from him.

Damn customs, He thought to himself. He understood why they were there, but they didn't make it easy for him. He had never had someone drink at his vein before, he wondered what it was like. From the look on all of whom he had fed from, it was something otherworldly.

Pushing all of his thoughts out of his head, he focused on where he was heading. There were things that needed to be done, all of this blood business could wait. While his Mihrisa was bathing herself for him (he took a short moment to imagine exactly how she was doing it - running the wet cloth over her smooth, naked skin, cleaning it with such gentle precision it made her shiver - before he threw it out of his head and focused again) he was going to do something that had caught his ear while they had spoken.

Slamming the doors open to Callath's bedchamber, he found him naked on his bed with a female on his lap, both of them sweating from their carnal activity. They both looked shocked to see their Dralan barge in on them, but he could care less.

"Callath, I want you to take an army of my Lathras and go to the village of Eraldrulth. Kill every Mihr hunter you find and bring their heads to me."