Leyla

Leyla didn't know how days went by in the fort in what seemed like just hours. It felt like the Dralan had just told her what had happened, the next moment, two whole days had blown by.

- And she had been sitting still the whole time.

Unable to process the words that seemed to play in her head on a tortuous repeat, Leyla had barely moved, let alone eaten in two whole days.

Everything that had ever happened to her suddenly seemed so puny. Her heartaches with the Dralan, her need to rebel, and lastly, her stupid way of gaining some control of the situation she had no say in, by choosing not to feed.

All of it seemed so... stupid now. The Lady Kahtrina was gone - taken by the cruelty that lied in this world, a cruelty Leyla hadn't taken truly seriously until the moment the Dralan told her what had happened. She had been prancing around like a spoiled female, huffing about the things the Dralan had needed to do to save and protect her from this evil - to protect them all. Mating Lady Kahtrina could've brought him so much power and strength - he could be back in his Kingdom by now, Lady Kahtrina by his side, sitting on his lap as his Dralaq.

Instead, he was here, fixing the mess she had made. If Leyla hadn't distracted him, hadn't acted out against him, he would've been focused on doing what he was supposed to do; Getting his Queen.

The led-weight in Leyla's chest almost crushed her. Now thanks to her, all of this had happened. If she hadn't distracted him, if she hadn't passed out on the beach, if she had been so goddamn self-absorbed... if, if, if...

Leyla suddenly remembered some heavy words that for some reason had stayed in her mind ever since Bhria had spoken them.

His previous Mihrs... They became obnoxious and full of themselves over time. They started to kvetch over everything.

Leyla closed her eyes and had to admit a bitter truth. She had become just like the rest of the Dralan's Mihrs. The Dralan... he was a nurturing male, he did what he could to keep them happy. All this Dralaq business aside, he had been good to her. Treated her nice. Corrected her when she disobeyed him like he should, as was his right. He had taught her, had protected her. And then the second he started showing interest in another female, she had turned her nose to the sky and acted like a jealous brat.

Leyla let out a small sob and pressed her face into her hands. She was ashamed of herself. What had see done? Look at the consequences. Her mother had been right. A pliant female is a perfect female. If she had only stayed pliant - obedient - all of this never would've happened. She shouldn't have allowed herself to feel. She should've realized what this was; a professional arrangement. She was his feeder, he was her protector. No strings attached.

Until that night had happened... there was an attraction between them there shouldn't be there, there was no denying that, and that night, both of their control had snapped. They had given in to the forbidden, in to the lust that roamed within them both. Leyla couldn't say why, but she knew it needed to stop. This was a wake up call. She was going to go back to her pliant nature that she never should've abandoned in the first place, and not disobey the Dralan ever again, for as long as she served him.

Never again.

Leyla looked discouragingly at the tray of food in front of her. Assorted fruits laid beautifully on the plate, but she had not even the faintest hint of appetite. She had hardly eaten in days, and yet even so, she didn't find any hunger at the sight of the ripe fruits. Not even thirst either. She should eat, she knew. She just... couldn't.

Sighing, she looked away from the food and into her lap. The Dralan had barely shown his face since he had delivered the news to her. He was busy with lord Amasgohn and his personal Kathmir Callath, in finding and tracking every possible lead on the Lady Kahtrina's whereabouts. She knew for a fact that he hadn't left the fort to go search for her himself, and Leyla suspected it was because of her. With one Mihrisa gone, he couldn't allow his only remaining blood source to get kidnapped as well. Instead, he therefore spent every wakening moment with the other males and his Lathras, mapping and scouring out locations where she could be kept. Or so Leyla figured. It wasn't like he came back late at night and shared his day with her. They both just went to sleep, none of them truly speaking.

And Leyla, for once, didn't mind.

She felt the guilt fill the void in her stomach where her hunger should've been. Every time he looked at her, she wanted to throw up, simply knowing what she had done. He was fixing her mess and he was a decent enough male to not even blame her. To punish her.

She wished he would. She wanted him to whip her, wanted her to suffer for her foolishness like the Lady Kahtrina was suffering from it. She wanted... she wished...

She wished she had been taken instead of her.

Just as she was about to break down in tears, the door to the bedchamber opened. Quickly blinking her agony away, Leyla sat up straight, kept her head down obediently as the Dralan walked in, sighing heavily. She heard the door close, then the sound of his boots walking across the floor. The metallic clatter of his weapons belt being taken off, then the sound of water being poured into a goblet. Then a throat bobbing.

Leyla didn't look up. She kept sitting still, exactly where she had been sitting for the past two days. She woke up, she bathed and got dressed, then she went to this chair and sat down. And then... she sat there.

The goblet was put down and then Leyla heard more footsteps. She heard them approach her until the Dralan's shadow cast itself over her, made her crimp in her seat ever so slightly. She felt his eyes looking down at her, taking in her statuesque posture.

"You haven't eaten," He then noted. His voice sounded tired, but deep, rumbling at the statement he just made.

Leyla gulped, but didn't reply. It wasn't really needed. Instead she stayed seated silently, keeping her head and eyes lowered to the floor where she watched his boots, slightly muddied and scraped. They needed a polish...

"Get up."

Woodenly, Leyla obeyed his command and stood up, never raising her head. She felt the Dralan shift and then before she knew it, he had walked around her and sat down on the very chair she had been sitting in. Then, startling her, he took her wrist and dragged her down, made her sit on his lap.

Stiffly, Leyla stopped breathing as he situated her on his lap, pulling her rear to his crotch, just like he had back in his castle. She gasped when she settled there, pressed against him, then gulped as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Her spine met his big, warm, rock-like torso and Leyla squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a sparkle inside her body.

Wrong... wrong, this was wrong. Even after everything that had happened, even after the Lady Kathrina - his rightful female - had been kidnapped, her body still had the audacity to respond to him. Still felt herself flame alive to the touch of his. To his strong, protective persona. To the aura he exuded.

Wrong.

Trying to distract herself, she saw the Dralan now reach for her plate of food, picking a carefully selected grape from the bunch. He then slowly lifted it and brought it to her lips. "Eat."

Gulping, Leyla obeyed his command again and let him put the grape into her mouth. His thumb stroked across her lip as she closed around the ripe fruit, biting and chewing it slowly. She tried not to let the touch affect her, but she felt a shiver run through her. She could feel his stare burning her as he observed her closely, almost as if making sure she swallowed.

She did.

Rumbling in satisfaction, the Dralan picked the next item off the plate - a thin slice of peeled orange - and brought that up to her lips next. Without his command, Leyla opened her mouth and chewed automatically as the food landed on her tongue. She tasted nothing as he kept watching her work on it.

"Good," He said as he saw her swallow that too, now going for the next small bite for her to eat. He selected a slice of melon and brought it to her lips. "I need you to stay strong, Leyla. I know you are hurting for your friend, but I need you to remain healthy, dahna."

Leyla froze mid-chew on the melon and squeezed her eyes shut. Her friend... Gone, abducted, taken, raped...

The guilt had to have reeked off her body, for the Dralan now suddenly squeezed her tighter to him and brought his lips to her shoulder. Placing a warm, but firm kiss on the single patch of skin, he exhaled. "Dahna... I'm doing everything I can. My Lathras are searching day and night. Callath gets hourly reports. If there's even the slightest sight of her, we will find her. In the meantime, we must all remain strong. Particularly you, Leyla. Don't wither away on me."

Leyla dryly swallowed the melon in her mouth, feeling it go down on a dry throat. She nodded automatically to his words, but her mind wasn't there with her. "Yes, my lord..."

The truth was, no matter what he told her, the Lady Kahtrina was gone, and the Sweet Miss knew only what she was currently being put through. While Leyla sat and got hand-fed by the Dralan himself (a gesture far too significant for her to fully process), the Lady Kahtrina was getting brutally tortured and violated...

All because of her stupidity.

"Dahna..." The Dralan murmured again. He sensed her anguish and now squeezed her again, bringing his other hand up to her face to turn it his way, over her shoulder. Leyla's eyes fluttered down obediently, not meeting his gaze as he sighed and brushed his thumb over her lip. "Talk to me. I know I haven't been here the last few days, but you know why. It doesn't mean my mind isn't with you all the time. When we find the Lady Kahtrina--"

"What if she's dead?" Leyla hoarsely whispered, his fragile voice cutting him short. Those were the words she had feared speaking--that all of them had feared speaking out loud. They all thought it, but who dared say it? Perhaps the one who had brought death upon her. "What if... he killed her? What if she died f-from... her injur--"

"Stop," The Dralan ordered, his voice hardening. His grip around her tightened, but it wasn't a squeeze this time. It was dominance. "If she has passed on, she is with The Blithesome Miss in the sky now, safe and protected. If she isn't, we will find where he his keeping her and we will torture him," He growled. "I will torture him. He will feel exactly what he did to her and every other female. And much worse. Much, much worse."

Leyla's stomach twisted. The food he had managed to get her to eat now threatened to come up again, but she kept it down. Pressing her lips tightly together, she turned her head away from him and looked down at her hands. All her fault...

The Dralan now sighed once more and then abruptly stood up, lifting Leyla into his arms. She squeaked at the suddenness, but then let him carry her to the edge of the bed where he sat down instead, slinging her astride his lap again, both her legs now dangling over his left thigh. He then cupped her face and made her look at him, made her meet his hypnotic blue eyes. They were much milder than before, almost tender as he brushed a lock of her curly blonde hair out of her face and then let his hand rest at the nape of her neck. His eyes trailed over all her small features, took them in. Finally, they landed on her lips.

"I never kissed you properly," He quietly said, completely switching the topic. He leaned in towards her. Leyla's breath caught in her mouth as she felt him press his forehead against hers, their noses slightly touching. She gulped.

"You did kiss m-me," She shakily replied, swallowing heavily again when she felt his forehead crease against her own. She didn't understand why, though. It was the truth. He had kissed her hard and thoroughly that day, claimed every part of her lips that was to claim.

And it had been wrong.

"Not properly," He replied, now brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. He exhaled on her lips and Leyla couldn't help but shudder. "That wasn't a kiss. That was lust. This," He whispered and now let his lips hover right above hers, "is a kiss."

Before Leyla could do anything, he gently pressed his lips to hers and kissed her. Leyla's world stopped and her eyes fluttered shut as he lightly slid his tongue along the seams of her lips, just barely touching her, before dipping deeper, angling his head and pressing his thumb under her jawline. He lifted her mouth to his, but kept his pace slow and deep, his lips parting and nibbling on hers.

Leyla trembled under his touch and felt herself melt. Her own lips, traitorous as they were, responded to his and met his sweet thrusts as their tongues found each other, tangling slowly. He broke apart and shifted his head to the other side, then repeated his pattern. All the while he kept one hand at the back of her neck and one hand wrapped around her waist.

Leyla heard herself choke on a moan. His lips were so generous and plump, so slow and yet so hungry. They erased all her pain, numbed her. Made her forget. Passionately, they moved against hers, let his tongue dip into her, before he drew back again. She could tell he wanted more, but he also wanted her to have this; A true kiss, untarnished by sexual desires or anything else - just a kiss. 

After when seemed like eternities or mere minutes, the Dralan slowly drew back, his lips twitching gently at Leyla's small, involuntary whimper of protest. He pecked her lips one last time, then completely withdrew, taking a slow, deep breath. "The things you do to me, Leyla."

Leyla's heart throbbed in her chest and she then realized how her hand had gripped tightly onto his tunic, right where his heart was, almost as if trying to claw its way through to it. She licked her sensitive and swollen lips, tasting his hypnotic taste still there; how could something so wrong taste so sweet?

Dohmenic

Nothing could ever distract him from the fact that a female under his protection was missing. It was a constant voice in the back of his mind that wouldn't quit nagging him like a pounding headache until she was found safe and sound.

However, his thoughts were momentarily misdirected when he sensed the bleak aura that hung around his Leyla. He had sensed it growing stronger the past few days, ever since he told her what had happened.

At first, he let the female grief. He knew females shared an indescribable bond in this world, a bond he could only ever compare to his Lathras that fought side by side like brothers through cold wars.

But these two females... he knew they had created a friendship the day before their beach trip - he knew Lady Kahtrina had used the excuse to get his female out of her room, to stretch her legs. She was a clever and sweet female. Having chosen to reject her had been on his conscience since the moment he learned of her kidnapping.

The Dralan felt the agony in his veins. Because of his failure as a Dralan, she was suffering. He knew that Callath blamed himself. He even knew that the female in his arms blamed herself. But there was only one bitter truth; the fault was his.

It was his job to stay superior at all times. To foresee things. To sense them. To never let his guard down.

But he had. Leyla had crawled under his skin, but he didn't blame her. He blamed himself. She was a female, he was the male. It should've been his responsibility to put her in her place if she overstepped her bounds. Instead... he let her come closer... and closer... too close... and he had all but encouraged her.

For one brief minute, he had played with the idea that she was his Sahl Amorsa... that she could be his Amorsa. But everyone knew that a Dralan could never let himself depend on anyone or anything. Dralan's didn't have Sahl Amorsa's, they had Dralaqs. A female whom to carry their next of kin, a female whom to feed from endlessly. That was it.

But he had always been curious about having a... what it would feel like if he ever got a Sahl Amorsa... the dependency... the possessiveness... the need...

And now he knew. He now also knew why Dralan's couldn't have them; The Lady Kahtrina was the answer.

Pushing the thoughts out of his head, he focused on the female sitting on his lap. The one whom despite everything still let him kiss her, still allowed him to touch her.

He knew he shouldn't. His hands were red with the blood of Lady Kahtrina's innocence - her life. Another day with no results had passed, and now as night fell upon his kingdom, he was forced to go to sleep while The Miss only knew what what she was going through. It killed him, murdered him every single second.

And that's why, staying close to this female had become his everything.

She had to be safe. She had to be happy. She had to eat. She had to live.

Without her, he would truly fail his kingdom. Without her...

... He would fail his people.

Gently caressing her face, he drew back from his female's soft lips and rested his forehead against hers. She was breathing shallowly, her temperature warm. Aroused.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he refused to let himself get prickled by her scent. The one that drew him in, had his heart beating faster. His fangs poked him in his mouth, but he ignored it all.

Tonight wasn't about pleasure. It wasn't about lust or anything primal.

It was about comfort.

She needed it. Hell, maybe he even needed it, too. Without overthinking it, he swooped the female up again and carried her to the edge of the bed and put down on the mattress, folding the silk sheets over her. Her doe eyes looked up at him in the dim light, made his whole body ache with the need to bury himself on top of her. In her. Not for pleasure. Just to be near her. To protect her.

He had failed Lady Kahtrina; he wouldn't fail Leyla as well.

Walking around the bed, he reached over his head and grabbed his tunic; dragged it off his body and threw it away on the floor. He then climbed into the bed from the other side and scooted all the way over to her, until their bodies touched under the sheets and her small figure was pressed tightly against his.

He heard her small gasp as he slinked one arm around her waist and locked her in, then heard her slender throat bob as he settled his head against her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the skin. And then... he heard her exhale. Softly. Her whole body went from stiff to relaxed and then he felt as she snuggled closer, accidentally pushing her rear to his crotch.

Fire lighted in his loins as he felt her two soft globes grind against him.

Damn, he cursed and gritted his teeth - willed his cock not to respond. When she finally stopped moving, he sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to give her the wrong impression of what this was.

It wasn't lust. Wasn't arousal. It wasn't... love.

It was protection. Comfort. Safety.

"Dohmenic..." The female against him softly sighed, her voice so feeble, tired. He was positive she was falling asleep for the first time in two days. Good.

But the way she had said his name... Now his cock definitely swelled, but still not with arousal; it was with pride, male pride from hearing his female say his name in such contentment. She trusted him.

"Leyla," He murmured back, closing his eyes, but not falling asleep.

His Leyla.