Dohmenic

Where had she come from? He thought.

He had been on his deathbed when suddenly an angel - and he truly meant angel - came to his rescue and offered him her vein.

By the sweet Blithesome Miss, she was beautiful. The paleness of her skin, the goldness of her hair, the deep, hypnotic amber eyes that had been staring at him with so much fright. She had been scared of him and it had been understandable. The minute he caught her scent, a frenzy took a hold of his body, a frenzy he thought he had long ago mastered to control. But he had been so thirsty and her scent had been so euphoric. When that first drop of her blood touched his tongue, he got hard as a diamond, wanting to do so much more than just suck at her vein.

But he had restrained his impulses to just her blood.

He had fed from her until she lost consciousness, but finally he felt sated for the first time in nearly a month. Next time he would feed from her, he wouldn't have to drink that much. But it had been needed today.

After he had attended to his needs, he had licked her wounds carefully, making sure they healed properly, before swooping her tiny body into his arms and carrying her to his bed. He had laid her down gently on top of his sheets and made her as comfortable as he could. She had been out for hours, but she looked truly angelic, sleeping on his pillows.

Like she belonged there.

The Dralan frowned at his atavistic thought, knowing he could never bed her. If he did, she would lose her pure blood, the blood he needed to feed. And as much as he wanted to touch her, to be inside her, he resisted. Instead he made due with just stroking her cheek softly, admiring the pink color that tinted them. She was slowly regaining strength.

His door suddenly burst open and the Dralan sneered, feeling as if his friend had just interrupted an intimate moment between him and his Mihr. Which he had. "What do you want?"

"My lord, I... I heard you were dead!" Callath said, sounding out of breath and frankly, like he had been crying, mourning. "I came as soon as I heard, how did you..." His eyes fell to the female in his bed and immediately a shocked expression replaced his worry.

The Dralan felt a protective pull inside him and covered his view to her with his broad frame, standing up from the bed to face his friend. "It was no thanks to you, Callath. I was minutes away from stepping into The Blithesome Miss's warm Eden when this Kischmir found me and offered her vein to me."

Callath's eyes grew wide with horror. "My lord! Did you... did you accept a vein from a Bahk-"

"She's a Mihr, Callath. A Mihr. In my own castle." He took two steps towards his friend who actually looked more shocked than he had when the realization had struck him as well. "How did this go by you?"

He blinked in shock. "I swear, I thought every servant in the castle had been checked," Callath whispered, trying to eye her out behind his Dralan's frame. "I did a check just last week-"

He grabbed his friend by his robes and yanked him closer so their faces were but inches apart. "You failed me, Callath. Do you know what would've happened if she hadn't found me? Let alone what would've happened to you if I had gotten my hands on you?"

"Dohmenic." His friend said, looking soberly up at him. He placed a hand over his. "I offer my deepest apologies. I nearly killed my Dralan and my friend with my failure and I shan't beg mercy from you for that. I don't deserve it. But know that I have always loved you as a brother, and if you shall choose to spare my life, I vow here and now to never fail you again. You have my solemn word."

He assessed his friend's words and the sincerity of them, setting aside the fact that he had appealed to his kinder side by using his birth name. Nobody addressed him like that, only his true friends who he knew only spoke it with the humility that came with the honor it was to address his Dralan as such. Callath was just such a friend.

"I accept your vow," He said, slowly drawing away from him, letting him go. "But so pray to The Blithesome Miss if you shall not keep your promise, Callath. It can never get so close again."

"My word is my honor, Sire." Callath knelt down before him on his knees and kissed his Dralan's ring, a token of his promise.

The Dralan nodded satisfied and then turned back to his Mihr, glancing at her. She still looked just as peaceful, despite their heated conversation just now. He wondered what her name was.

"I shall set up the facility then, prepare it for your Mihr," Callath begun as the Dralan walked up to the bed again and took a seat next to her. "I shall install new security systems that will ensure--"

"No."

"Pardon me, Sire?"

"She will not stay locked up in the facility. Not this time."

"But Sire--"

"Bring the head Kathmir to me. Tell him his Dralan wants him to pack all her belongings and bring them to me."

"Where will she be staying then, if not with the Kischmirs or in the facility?"

The Dralan looked down at the fragile, innocent beauty beneath him, watching her steady breath come in and out through her slightly parted pink full lips. The rise and fall of her chest brought his attention down to her Kischmir robe, wanting it removed, yet at the same time wanted none other than himself to gaze upon her beauty. She was his to protect.

"With me."

Leyla

Leyla begun stirring, feeling a softness like no other beneath her body. Her hands traced across something that felt like the purest silk, and her head was nestled on the fattest pillows she had ever had the pleasure to sleep on.

Where was she?

Her eyelids parted, but everything was a blur. It took a few moments to adjust to the harsh light that for some reason dizzied her, made her cringe.

Within the next second, all peaks of sunlight were eliminated, blocked out by thick curtains, until only the flames of the indoor candles burned. They were gentle enough to not bother her retinas.

Finally she managed to make shape of the world, but the moment her eyes focused, she saw a giant male sitting besides her, watching her as if his life depended on it. She screamed in shock.

"Calm yourself," The male said and pressed a hand to her cheek. She immediately flinched. "You are still recovering."

"W-who are you?" Her memory was failing her. She couldn't remember what had happened that brought her to where she was now. One minute she had been scrubbing the floors in a foyer, the next--

Her memories swarmed back and nearly drowned her as realization struck her. Her eyes widened as she looked upon her master, her Dralan who had accepted her vein. "M-my lord, I-"

"Shhh..." He brushed a thumb across her bottom lip which immediately shut her up. She looked timidly up at him, watching how intensely he was studying her. His eyes... they were so electrically blue, they looked like thunderbolts. But they softened as they gazed upon her, taking in her features.

After a moment or two of simply playing with her bottom lip, he tilted his head to the side. "You saved your Dralan today by offering me your vein, female. Do you know that?"

She gulped down hard and nervously nodded. His hand felt warm against her face, almost scorching. "I-i-it was my honor, your majesty."

He lifted a brow as if not expecting her to answer like that. But in truth it was an honor; He was the last of the pureblooded vampires left on earth, the only one whose blood had not been tasted or contaminated by anyone. No male or female was allowed to drink from him, and he was only allowed to feast on the ones with pure blood. Ones like herself. To have his majesty drink at her vein was truly an honor that humbled her. 

"What is your name, female?"

She blinked up at him when she had been caught up in her thoughts. "Leyla, my lord."

"Leyla. Tell me Leyla, does my touch scare you?"

He stroked her cheek and brushed down to her lips again, tracing her Cupid's bow with his thumb. She shuddered.

"It does, doesn't it?" He whispered, leaning closer to her. Her breath caught. "Has any male ever touched you?"

"T-touched m-me?" Leyla stammered. She could smell a dark scent seeping from his body, flaring into her nostrils like a strong, dark spice.

"Has any male ever used his lips on your body, here?" His hands fell to her throat, resting over her vein. She gulped and shook her head. He frowned. "Has any male ever besmirched your breasts with the warmness of his mouth?"

His hands moved down to the valley between her breasts, over her heart and Leyla shook her head, beginning to sweat. His heat was penetrating her body like a thousand small swords, stabbing her. It was terrifying, yet she didn't want the sensation to stop.

"Has any male ever tasted the sweet nectar between your legs, let alone gazed upon your naked glory?"

His hand swayed down to the curve between her legs and cupped her heat on top of her dress. She gasped and clenched her legs shut when a wave of moisture began soaking her, drenching her.

"Nobody has." He said. It was not a question, it was a statement. He removed his hand from her heat and instead leaned in to her face, brushing his thumb over her lip once more. He was so close, she could feel his warm breath tickle her chin, his scent engulfing her nose. "Has anyone ever even kissed you?"

Frozen, unable to either speak or breathe, Leyla shook her head ever so slightly, not daring to look away from the eyes that were solely focused on her lips. After what seemed like hours but were probably just seconds, the Dralan slowly pulled away and removed his hands from her body. She immediately felt cold.

"You are not just a Mihr, dearest Leyla. Your are a Mihrisa."

"W-what?" She managed to breathe. Her parents had been knowledgable people and they had educated her well, but she had never heard of such a title. "What is that?"

"You are an Untouched," The Dralan replied, standing up from the bed. "Someone who has never been tarnished or touched in any unholy way, someone who is beyond a virgin. No male has had his mouth on you, which means you've never had your mouth around a male yourself, am I right?"

She blinked confused. "W-what?"

"Have you ever taken a male's hard organ into your mouth and nourished on his semen?"

Heat spread everywhere inside her body, also on her cheeks. She felt herself crisp up completely by just hearing him speak so bluntly, so calmly about such filthy things.

"I take your shade of red as a no," The Dralan spoke, a twitch of amusement curving his lips. "You are perfect, dear Mihrisa."

"P-perfect?" She stuttered, trying to will her blush to disappear when it clearly amused him. She did not want to embarrass herself in front of her king. "Perfect for what, my lord?"

"For me," He said, his eyes clouding over with something dark, something carnal. "I want you to be my Mihrisa, Leyla, my feeder. You will give me your veins to nourish from and I will promise you safety in return. Nobody will ever touch you. Nobody but me."

Leyla's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. "W-what? But-"

"This is not a question, it's an order," The Dralan spoke, his voice hardening. "I am your Dralan and you will follow my command, Mihrisa. Is that understood?"

Leyla opened and closed her mouth, but not a sound passed her lips.

"You will stay here with me. I will give you my protection and in return, you will do my every bidding without a question. You are not to talk to another male, you are not to look at another male and you are not to touch another male," He growled out, clenching his fists. "You are mine and mine alone, Mihrisa. Understood?"

Leyla could not breathe. Could not speak. Could not blink. There were no words on her tongue, nor in her head. For once in her life, she was speechless.

"You are forbidden to leave this chamber," The Dralan then said and picked up his ceremonial black robe from a dresser. He folded it over his arm. "Consider this room your new home. When I get back, we are going to get acquainted."

And then he left, leaving Leyla with nothing but a million soundless screams in her head and just one big, fat why?