Dralan [On Hold]

Three

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."