Dohmenic

Night had fallen over Amascahr and now the creatures of the night starting coming out to sing their lullabies. Crickets sung from the bushes, the nightingale's trilling could be heard from the woods and the soft waves from Dohmenia Bay washed up on shore and created a smooth, enchanting sound. Stars twinkled from a cloudless night sky and the last of the sun's amber rays were dipping down below the horizon.

The Dralan looked out across the seas from the balcony and had to truly admit he loved the south. On a clear day, one could see all the way to The Sanctum Island and gaze upon the holiness that was the island itself. Legend told that it was the birthplace of The Blithesome Miss; that at her first breath, she created air and as she took her first steps, nature below her feet was born.

But then upon climbing up a tree, she cut her finger on a branch. When she watched the red drop of untarnished blood tickle down her finger, she had leaned forth and licked it away. And thus the lust for blood had been born.

After her death, she had risen to the sky and now protected her people from the clouds. She could no longer take a corporeal form, and that's why she had pointed to one of the strongest, most purehearted males that roamed Drala at that time, those many, many years ago. She had touched the vein in his neck and removed every spec of impurity from his blood, thereby purifying his soul, before bestowing upon him the honor of becoming her people's earthly leader; their Dralan.

He was to watch over them and protect them, but not only that, he also had to be her earthly representation - a model figure to look up, someone whom everyone knew not to go against, for that would mean going against her.

That's why, upon his holy word, the first Dralan to ever exist, solemnly swore to The Blithesome Miss that he or any of his descendants would ever drink from anyone but ones as pure as her - Mihrs and Mihrisas. To be a worthy male of representing her and protecting her people, his blood would remain as pure as when she created him.

- He was the first Dralan ever. Since that day, that vow of purity had been upheld right to this current day - or night as it was, as the Dralan sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

The law of him not drinking from anyone less than pure was centuries old. Him touching a Mihr or a Mihrisa or laying with one was beyond just a rule; It was a sacred promise to The Blithesome Miss, a promise that all his predecessors had accomplished and lived up to. They had gone down in history as wise and great leaders, all of whom he had to live up to - honor.

But how, he thought, just as he turned around and watched the Lady Kahtrina come through the doors to the balcony, dressed in a long red dress. How had they all managed to stay in control when temptations were all around them? He had to believe they had gone through the same struggles he was going through now. Of course Mihrisas weren't as sparse then as they were now, but still. How had they done it?

Or rather, how had they not done it.

More than anything, the Dralan wanted to go to his Mihrisa. The Lady Kahtrina was a beautiful, interesting, sweet and humble female, but she just didn't appease him. It made no sense. She filled all his requirements, yet his head swirled solely around his Mihrisa.

Her long, soft, golden hair. Her pink cheeks and arched, plump lips. Her eyes that always seemed so frightened, yet so deep with unadulterated lust for him, lust she tried to hide but was as clear as the stars currently winking at him in the sky. Just like them, they sparkled and shone at him, made him want to never stop looking at them.

The Dralan closed his eyes again and cursed himself silently in his head, feeling how the Lady Kahtrina now stopped up next to him. He had to stop thinking about his Mihrisa and focus. He wouldn't--couldn't let his people down, and most importantly, his ancestors. One female had crept her way under his skin and so he had to get her out. The Blithesome Miss knew, he had to.

And he knew just how to do it.

"How is his lordship feeling?" The Lady Kahtrina carefully spoke next to him, obviously seeing the deep crease between his brows. "Did the dinner not please his majesty?"

The Dralan took a deep breath, then straightened his back, meeting the Lady Kahtrina's with resolve. "Dinner was fine, however I had expected dessert."

The Lady Kahtrina's eyes widened a little. "Oh? Well, I can call up the kitchen and have them whip up a--"

"No," He interrupted her and took a step closer to her. Instantly, he saw how her lips screwed together. "I want dessert from you, Lady Kahtrina. I'd like to feed from you."

The words tasted sour on his tongue, but what choice did he have? His obsession with his Mihrisa had taken over his good senses and it had begun the second he tasted her blood. He had continued to drink from her and thereby nourished not only his thirst, but also his infatuation. He had strengthened it.

So... perhaps drinking from the Lady Kahtrina would break it. Tasting her, getting nourished from her blood, that would change things. He'd wipe his Mihrisa's taste off his tastebuds and replace it with the Lady Kahtrina's. It was the only way he could get this to work.

The Lady Kahtrina looked perplexed for a moment, but quickly recovered and cleared her throat. "Are you sure, my lord? Should we not... wait as customs would have it if we do get... mated?"

He had had just about enough of customs by now. "Customs say that mates shall drink from each other's veins during the bonding, it doesn't say that one can't taste the other beforehand. Now are you questioning my knowledge or simply my orders to feed from you, female?"

That put her into place. The Lady Kahtrina bowed her head apologetically and lowered her eyes. "I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I did not mean to question any aspects of his majesty's ways. If his highness wishes to drink upon my vein, so be it."

He made a satisfied sound. His teeth were gritted as the Lady Kahtrina slowly turned around, tilted her head to the side and swept away her red hair to expose her neck to him. Her alabaster skin shone vaguely in the moonlight, showing the blue vein that nestled just below it. It throbbed so gently, so invitingly.

No matter the female, blood was blood. You could bash a person for all their flaws and incompatibilities, but a throbbing vein presented before you was something you could never look away from.

Enthralled, the Dralan slowly stepped up behind her and circled his arm around her thin body. She felt wrong in his embrace, something a female's body never had before. Her proportions weren't the same as his Mihrisa's. The Lady Kahtrina was more plush, more shapely, whereas his Mihrisa was thinner, slimmer, more fragile.

Stop, he ordered himself and squeezed his eyes shut one last time. He had to drink from her now and get it over with before he changed his mind. For the sake of his people, he had to let go of his Mihrisa.

And that's why, without allowing himself another single moment of hesitation, he extended his fangs, and in one solid lash, bit into the Lady Kahtrina's vein and drank.

Bhria

Bhria was exhausted. Between traveling and arriving and at all times avoiding Callath whenever she spotted him, the first day in Amascahr had been long. Her and the two other Kischmirs had unpacked most of the wagons with help from some of the Kathmirs, then spent the rest of the day learning their way around inside the fort and then filling out orders that only seemed to keep coming.

Through it all, Bhria had hardly had any time to sit, much less check up on her Mihrisa and make sure she was alright. She hadn't seen her since - yes - Callath led her away, up to the Dralan's chamber. Now the evening was falling and Bhria knew it was too late to visit. She would just have to check up on her first thing tomorrow morning and make sure she had everything she needed. All of this couldn't be easy on her. Bhria cold only imagine what she was going through.

Now, with a long yawn, Bhria struggled the last few feet to the tiny bedchamber she and the two others had been assigned. It only really had a bed and a nightstand with a candle for each of them, but then again, that was all Bhria needed. She was so tired by now, all she wanted was a good night's sleep.

The two other Kischmirs that had traveled with her were not in their beds. Bhria knew they had snug off to be with some of the Lathras, to stay in their beds for the night. She had no idea where they found the energy. Then again, she didn't care. It wasn't her business anyway.

Tiredly, Bhria stepped into the little bedchamber and closed the door behind her. The candle flame flickered a little from the gust of wind, but then settled quietly. Bhria had just begun untying her corset when a voice behind her suddenly spoke; "You've been avoiding me all day."

Almost screaming and feeling her heart fly into her throat, Bhria spun around and found Callath lurking in the corner behind the door. He stepped out into the light when her eyes widened into saucers.

Panic crept into Bhria's system. With cautious eyes, she watched as Callath came all the way up to her and stopped up in front of her.

Oh no. She couldn't. She just couldn't.

"Did you hear me, female?" He said.

Bhria gulped a mouthful of fear down. "W-what?"

"I said, you've been avoiding me all day," He repeated and rose a brow. "I saw you turn and walk in the opposite direction at least four times today whenever you spotted me. I'm no fool; you're avoiding me."

He was no fool alright, but neither was she. Last night, back in the tent, he had implied more than enough about this so-called punishment she deserved. Even if his words weren't clear enough, the scent that had come off his body had been answer enough; he lusted for her.

Bhria still couldn't believe that night actually happened. She thought she had gotten away with visiting Byhron - that nobody had seen her. Obviously she had been wrong. Callath had seen her and must have followed her and heard her private conversation with her brother. He had heard what she had asked him to do, hence the punishment that now awaited her. Her words had been traitorous and Callath were in his full rights to act as he were.

Still, that didn't mean Bhria felt comfortable. At least he hadn't told the Dralan, which she had been grateful for, but now it meant that he was going to deal with her all on his own.

- And it appeared he wanted to do so tonight.

Callath begun walking in a circle around her, just like he had back in the tent. It made Bhria freeze up and hug herself, feeling his intense stare scrutinize her. His presence here in her chambers this late spoke all for itself. She knew what he wanted from her, but he didn't know she couldn't.

Wouldn't.

"Is it because of the punishment?" Callath now asked her and stopped up behind her back. "Are you scared of what I might do to you?"

Bhria didn't move. Anxiety tickled like ants down her back, bit her skin and made her tremble. Callath stood closely behind her, looking down at her over her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her skin.

"Do you make it a habit of not replying when getting asked a question?"

Instantly, Bhria shook her head. She didn't trust her voice, actually she was pretty sure she didn't have one at the moment. Even if she did, he would probably take it from her.

"So answer me, Kischmir. What do you think your punishment should be?"

Bhria gulped. She knew very well it was a rhetorical question, but she wanted to reply.

Please let me go. I'll never do it again. I'm begging you, just don't touch me.

The panicle voice inside her head was shrill and frightened. Just like she felt on the outside. She couldn't order him to go away, but she wanted nothing more than to be alone. To creep up under her covers and never come back out - scared, like a young, little female.

"Hmm..." Callath thought out loud. "I could... make you scrub every inch of the Dralan's castle with a brush the size of a toothpick when we get back."

Yes, please, let me do that, Bhria pleaded in her head.

"I could have you muck out the stables using nothing but your hands as tools."

Even that Bhria would've been able to handle. Just not his next proposition.

"Or..." He said and walked around her, stopping when he was right in front of her, only inches away from her. His hand came and cupped her face. "You can take your punishment with pleasure and get on your knees before me."

Bhria whimpered and instantly pulled away when his other hand reached out to her hip. Panic zinged through her and caused her to violently step away from him and wheel around, clutching herself. A flashback flashed before her eyes and now all she could see was how those males had touched her as well, ripped her clothes of and... and...

"Fuck," She suddenly heard Callath say behind her. She screwed her eyes shut when she heard the tone of his voice. He had finally figured out what she had been trying to hide. "You're one of them."

Callath

She was one of them.

He couldn't believe it. How blind had he been? Of course it all made sense now and he cursed his own stupidity for not seeing all the signs that were right in front of him.

Oh, but this right here had been a dead giveaway. No female whimpered like that without having been through what so many young females had been through these days; rape. And not just any kind.

Brutal rape - Mihr hunter rape.

Callath couldn't help but take a step back, shocked to his core, as he watched the female before him silently hide her face in shame. In humiliation.

Sweet Miss, no, he heartbrokenly thought, feeling his insides twist and turn. Not this innocent beauty. Not her.

He couldn't wrap his head around this petite, fragile female before him having been through... that. Those five males he had smelled on her... fuck, it had been them. They had been her assailants. Her rapists. They had taken more than just her innocence and her blood from her; They had taken her trust to other males.

"Sweet Merciful Miss," Callath breathed, completely lack of words. He ran a hand over his mouth as he watched the Kischmir slowly turn away from him. "I didn't know, Bhria. I swear I didn't. If I had, I wouldn't have..."

Fuck, he now felt horrible. He had tried touching her - had tried taking advantage of her vulnerable situation for his own selfish benefit and amusement. Just like a fucking Mihr hunter.

- No wonder she had cowered away from his touch.

Had the conditions been different than these, it would've been acceptable. Any other female should've dealt with their insubordination and accepted his punishment, but he just couldn't... couldn't get himself to ask a female who had been forced to go through something so horrifying, to do things with him that surely would awaken those memories once more. He didn't want that. That wasn't the idea of punishments.

Punishments, however hard they had to be, could never end in the female crying. At least not from pain. Punishments were made for correcting them, lecturing them. Not hurting them.

The Kischmir in front of him slowly shook her head, obviously still crying. She was still so scared, the smell coming off her like volcanic fumes. Callath despised it.

"Please... please, w-will you just g-go?" She pleaded him, her voice barely audible. It broke something deep inside Callath, but somehow also ignited a wrath within him.

Those Mihr hunters... they had ruined her. They had touched her places that should only have been touched to bring pleasure. Because of them, she didn't know what kind of pleasures she was missing out on. They had ruined her thoughts on intercourse between male and female, and unless someone proved to her that it didn't have to be like that, she would live with this fear forever.

- And he couldn't stand that thought.

"Bhria..." He softly said. "Bhria, look at me."

He didn't want it to sound like an order, but he wanted her to know he wasn't messing around anymore. He gave her a few seconds, almost a full minute, before he noticed her body slowly shift, finding the courage to turn and face him. When she finally did, her eyes didn't meet his.

"You won't ever have to fear me," He carefully said. "Ever. I won't ever touch you in a way you don't want me to."

His words - as gentle and as reassuring as they were - did little to settle her. She sniffed a little and dried the tears off her face with the back of her hand, before slowly shaking her head again. "I c-can't. P-please. Just g-go. All I want to do is s-sleep."

He knew he had fucked up tonight. If only he had known - if only he had noticed and not been so fixated on getting her into his goddamn bed - he could've treated her right. All of this had been a game to him, a tease, but he saw now that she wasn't cut out for these things. She was damaged goods, broken inside. Done.

And he wanted to fix her.

A need inside him - something powerful - urged him to embrace this female, protect her. She needed to be done right, to be shown what intimacy was supposed to be, and he didn't want anyone but himself to be her teacher.

It wasn't a claim. It wasn't a bonding-thing. This was purely wanting to not see this beautiful female miss out on what he knew was one of the greatest things The Blithesome Miss had given them to enjoy. Being connected, being so incredible vulnerable in the arms of another person, yet never having felt stronger than in that moment. He wanted her to know what that felt like.

But not tonight. He could tell she had had it to her limit - and he didn't blame her.

No, he blamed himself. He had been a real inconsiderate jerk tonight and tomorrow he was going to make up for it.

Looking at her for just another short moment, he forced his eyes away from her broken posture and reluctantly turned towards the door. He reached for the knob and twisted it, cracking the door open, but then paused.

He felt the need to say something, but he didn't know what. For a male who dealt with victims of Mihr hunters on a daily basis, he suddenly found himself completely void of words. What could he say to her? What would help?

And then before he really gave himself time to process it, he spoke the three words that no male ever spoke. Not if they had any pride, whatsoever. "I am sorry."

Before she could respond, he had walked out of the door and was stalking away down the hall. Almost running.

He never thought he would say those words to anyone besides the Dralan. And never to a simple female who was below his status and rank. Below his blood.

Yet here he was.

And he didn't regret it.