[I'm in tears! 😭 My FIRST EVER fan-art made by the AMAZING @Sweetishlove I'm so happy I could cry! ❤️ Thank you, I love it!]

Dohmenic

The next many days, the Dralan hardly ever left his Mihrisa's side. After what had happened, there was no way he was leaving her out of his sight. Every hour he wasn't working, he spent in his bedchamber with her, watching her as she sewed. He had provided her with some light entertainment to pass her time, such as some sowing equipment and fabrics. His Mihrisa had thanked him greatly and deeply, and then taken to sewing herself dresses with the expensive material he had provided her.

It was hypnotizing to watch her work. She fidgeted around because of him and he liked it. It meant his presence made her giddy and nervous, as it should. She kept shooting him fleeting glances to see if he was looking, and every time, she wasn't disappointed. The Dralan's stare was glued to her persona and watched every suture she made and every prick of the needle.

Torture was the feeling he felt when he watched her. Pure torture to see her work so silently, elegantly and pliantly, without being able to walk over and praise her in the best way he knew how. His cock got hard every time her amber eyes looked up at him, widening every time they met as if she was equally surprised each time she found he was still admiring her. He watched her throat bob and her chest rise and fall, anxiousness rattling inside her. It pinched the air and made him lose focus.

Sweet Miss, he thought as she bent over the mannequin doll she was sowing on, giving him a perfect view of her slender, yet round arse. He could just picture himself bending her over his table and pounding into her, releasing his loads into her tight temple.

He closed his eyes and cursed silently in his head. These fantasies... he had to stop with them. They only fueled the fire he for some reason felt for her. He had to put his mind to something else, use it for something good other than fantasizing about his Mihrisa in every sexual position possible.

He therefore let an hour pass where he read one of his many books from his shelves. When that didn't work, he knew it was time to leave the room, even though it pained him. But if he didn't find a way to get his cock to stop swelling every time she moved her limber body, he would damn well lose his mind and do as his fantasies craved.

He abruptly stood up, causing his Mihrisa to let out a small startled gasp as the screech of his chair surprised her. She looked nervously at him as he stalked past her and towards the door.

"I'll be back in an hour," He informed her. "To feed. Be prepared and cleaned by then."

He was at the door when her sweet whisper of a voice caught his ear and made him stop up.

"M-my lord?"

Leyla

She had been with him for three weeks now. Time had flown by so fast, it was hard to believe just three weeks ago, she had never laid eyes on the Dralan's glorious person. Now, as he marched straight past her, power and strength emanating from his body, she couldn't fathom how she had ever lived without him.

"I'll be back in an hour," He told her in a gruff voice. "To feed. Be prepared and cleaned by then."

But she didn't want him to go. Leyla struggled to find the courage to ask him to stay. She didn't know what to do. She just knew she had gotten so used to his presence, she felt lonely without it. She enjoyed Bhria's company a lot, but it wasn't the same with the Dralan.

The way he looked at her... it set her skin on fire. Her body flamed up and everything she did suddenly felt as though she was doing a performance; nothing she did could go wrong and she felt strangely aware of her every move. His undivided attention made her nervous but somehow it strengthened her, too, made her want to... do something. She fantasized about reaching for his hand - what would he do to that? Would he punish her again? Touch her? Or simply just ignore it, because she was nothing but a female amongst a sea of females who craved his attention.

Now as the Dralan was leaving her, Leyla panicked. She didn't want to seem needy, but she just didn't want him to leave.

"M-my lord?" She stuttered in a dry and nervous voice. When he stopped up and glanced back at her, she licked her lips when they felt so dry. "May I... speak to you?"

He looked at her for a long moment with a hard gaze. His eyes bore into her body that trembled slightly under it, but then he slowly gave a curt nod. "You may."

Leyla bravely gathered her courage. She swallowed a lump and then fell to her knees, kneeling deeply before her Dralan. "I wish to apologize to his majesty for my disobedient actions. His majesty took me in and promised me safety for obedience. I failed my Dralan and I am sorry with all my heart."

Leyla exhaled a shaky breath when she felt the Dralan turn to fully face her, even though her eyes no longer met his; she submitted to him in every way she knew, to state her sincerity and to show this wasn't just flummery. She owed him a true apology for what she did. She was a female in a male's world and no matter what the situation had been, in the end, the Dralan's word was final. If he said she had made a mistake, it was hers to bear. Therefore, hers to repent.

The Dralan was silent for a long while, seemingly thinking. Leyla didn't dare look up at him, but she felt his electric eyes sear into her from above. The suspense made her tremble, but then, finally, he spoke.

"Arise."

Slowly and shakily, Leyla climbed to her feet again but didn't lift her eyes. She kept them down but felt how the Dralan came closer.

Suddenly his hand came to her cheek, and his thumb to her chin, forcing her to look up. "Mihrisa."

She met his glowing eyes. Like always, they seemed to take her breath away when the intensity of his blue orbs bore into her. She grew weak in the knees when she saw his nostrils flare, clearly breathing in the sweet scent coming off of her.

His lips parted as a low, guttural and pleased sound grated from the back of his throat. "Feed me, Mihrisa. Now."

Leyla blinked twice. A Dralan needed to feed every day if customs were to be upheld. Commoners could survive narrowly by feeding just once every third week or so, but the Dralan needed to be stronger, better nourished. He needed pure blood every day to keep him strong, as their leader. Ironically though, he was the vampire who could live longest without blood in the whole kingdom. A whole of three gruesome months, the Dralan could survive without blood, but by then, he would've been weakened so much, calling himself a Dralan would be abysmal.

"How does the Dralan w-want me?" Leyla now carefully asked as he looked down upon her with his intense stare. She could hardly breathe - coordinate if she should breathe through her mouth or her nose. Her lungs seemed to have forgotten how they worked as well.

But the Dralan seemed unfazed. If anything, his dominance strengthened and made the room feel thick with his musk. He slowly brushed his thumb across her lower lip, then changed his gaze to them as they parted. "Turn around."

Turn around. In truth, that meant turn away. However, Leyla didn't question his command, even if it saddened her that she wouldn't be able to be pressed against him as he fed. It was a selfish thought, but she longed to be close to him. Longed to feel the contours of his masculine body, feel his athleticism and the power that roared within him. It both intimidated her and made her feel safer than she had ever felt.

She slowly turned around to his pleasure so that she was facing away from him. Her pulse rose when she felt him take a small step forward, closing the gap between them. The heat of his chest now radiated into her back and made her gulp. Perhaps this was even better. The disadvantage of not being able to see him made her feel more giddy inside her body. When she felt his hand come around her, grabbing her slender neck, she stopped breathing. Not because she had forgotten how, simply because the air seemed to evaporate from the room.

She gulped nervously again and the Dralan felt it behind his hand. A low, satisfied growl rumbled from him. He trailed his fingers up to her chin and then slowly craned her head sideways, exposed her neck.

Her heart was hammering away. Leyla could barely stand still as she felt the Dralan now lean down to her, his warm breath fanning her exposed vein. It was no doubt throbbing powerfully at him, temptingly.

He took a deep inhale; A slow exhale followed while another deep rumble thundered inside his chest. "Some day, Mihrisa..."

Leyla waited anxiously for him to continue his sentence when his voice drifted off. She realized then he wasn't going to. Some day what? She therefore curiously wondered. Her mind ran wild with her.

Some day he would take her. Some day he would have her on his bed and be inside of her while feeding from her neck, as the old customs would have the act of feeding to be. Some day.

- But not today.

She closed her eyes and froze when she suddenly felt something hard press against her lower back. Something warm, throbbing and massively jutting--

She swallowed a cry when he struck without warning, latched onto her vein with a feral growl. Her lips parted in a garbled moan as he drank from her, pulled at her vein. His other arm cinched around her waist and dragged her closer, forced her to come in contact with his hard arousal.

She gasped, but then realized what her hands had just done; She had gripped onto his arm and dug her nails into it when he began rubbing his hardness against her while hungrily gulping down her blood to his repletion. Wetness and warmth nestled between her legs and made her shake with a need only he brought out in her. As the Dralan pressed his erection to her lower back, dangerously close to her rear, she felt her resolve crumble. That, combined with the erotic, powerful pulls he assaulted her vein with, was enough to leave her panting.

She realized then, she wanted him. The Blithesome Miss knew she wanted this male to claim her, to take her to his bed and do with her as he wanted. She would grant him anything, do anything for him if he would just promise to keep this sensation inside her body forever; she never wanted to lose that feeling. That overwhelming, heart-throbbing, strangling sensation that current seized her heart in a iron grip. The one the Dralan and only the Dralan made her feel.

A few minutes passed where Leyla was caught in a place between heaven and Earth. She was floating hazily between the two realms, the Dralan's hands on her, her only anchor to keep her feet rooted. She wouldn't find her way back without him, wouldn't mind staying there forever. For him, she would let him feed until every drop in her body was inside his. Until all of her was claimed by him.

Finally, with a heavy gulp, the Dralan detached himself from her, pulled his sharp fangs out of her neck and made her release another small gasp as she came out of her trance. His tongue sensually glided over the puncture marks he had made and lapped up the residue, as well as treated the wounds to a quicker heal. The soft purr at the back of his throat made her struggle for her breath. How could he do all of this to her with just the simplest things? How?

Leyla couldn't let go of him. She would collapse if she did and surely lose her footing, but then again, the Dralan wasn't pulling away from her. She realized that when she didn't feel his tongue against her skin anymore, but still felt his warmth.

His hand around her waist then suddenly dipped lower and nestled over her stomach, just on the boarder of where his limitations lied. Through the thin fabric of the silk dress she wore, Leyla could feel his thumb rubbing a circle around her belly button. It elicited all kinds of sparks to ignite inside her body.

"Some day..." The Dralan then huskily said again, his voice nothing but a breathy whisper. It was hoarse from the act of feeding, relaxed, yet charged with something... fervid. "These are the only moments I may touch you, Mihrisa. The only time I do not break the rules that make you a Mihrisa."

Leyla let out a garbled sound and shivered when he pressed his throbbing arousal further against her back. She couldn't breathe again.

"You feel that?" He rumbled lowly in her ear. "Of course you do. You are the cause of it," He whispered, so close to her that his lips grazed her shell. "You should be proud, Mihrisa. Your Dralan is thinking of you. Very much."

The tiniest moan left her lips and her head leaned back. He was thinking of her. Her. Nobody else.

He growled primally in response to her moan. His other hand, the one that held her chin, trailed down to her throat and softly squeezed it, just enough to leave her gasping again. Nothing about it was harsh. Simply just... dominant. Leyla was two seconds away from losing it. She wanted to jump him. Have him. Let him have her. Be damned her title.

- Only just then, a loud knock sounded on the door to the Dralan's chamber, and as if the sun had slid behind a cloud, the room turned almost arctic cold.

Dohmenic

The Dralan growled angrily in the back of his throat and gripped tightly on to his Mihrisa's dress when the knock echoed through his chamber.

Who dared disturb them when he had specifically asked for privacy?

The female in his arms immediately tried to straighten up and move, clearly wanting to get free. He kept her firmly in her place. "M-my lord--"

He growled again, infuriated. He had been so close to breaking everything, to screwing everything up.

He had wanted to have his cock thrust deep inside her precious untouched temple and hear her gasping again, only much louder. He wanted to feast on her breasts, the ones he had kept himself from touching, and had wanted to feel her hands that had grabbed his arm, run down his back as he drove into her. Then he wanted to sink his fangs into her throbbing vein again and drink from her until she could move no more.

And he could tell she wouldn't have protested. At all. The room was bathed in her sweet arousal, mingling with his own. Their scents could combine, why couldn't they?

Someone had disturbed him from doing that. Perhaps that was a good thing. No, scratch that, it was a good thing. He had promised himself and her that he would not touch her. It was for his own good and hers, too.

- She wouldn't be able to handle a male like him, even if she thought so. She was too innocent.

After a short moment, he reluctantly let his Mihrisa go and let her straighten her dress out, the one which he had crumbled in his hand. He turned to the door in the meanwhile, growling, though he knew he shouldn't be mad. Still, he didn't like being disturbed in the middle of his feeding. Whoever it was was playing with their own fate. "Who dares disturbs their Dralan?"

The door opened and Callath walked in, bowing deep and apologetically. "Forgive me truly, my Lord, but... this could not wait."

"Callath," The Dralan said, growling his name out. "This better be good."

"I received a letter from Merram. He has completed your task, Sire."

The Dralan now solidified completely, all the fresh blood in his veins freezing. "Are you saying what I think you are, Callath?"

His friend held out a small bedazzled shrine for him, a shrine he knew would contain the customary white handkerchief with the blood of a worthy female on it. A handkerchief for him to smell so he could get a glimpse of what the female had to offer.

"A potential Dralaq has been found."