Dralan [On Hold]

Four

Leyla

Hours passed by. Leyla regained her strength and was up and walking about in the Dralan's room in to time, but she was afraid to touch anything. His furniture were gilded in gold and were of the finest handcraft she had ever seen. She wondered just how much of it he had made himself.

His bed, the one she had been resting on, was the size of a pond; Big, round, with a headboard solidified and encased by gold, and pillars that went into the high ceiling and were draped with light blue curtains that could shadow the bed if needed. The rest of his space was ginormous with a fireplace, two luxurious couches, closets, and most importantly, a marbled bathtub that stood proudly in one corner behind a golden divider. The bath salts and soaps were endless inside a cabinet that was stuffed with all things essential for cleaning; Towels, cloths, a ceramic jug, rose petals, candle wax for hair removal and shaving foam for grooming.

Leyla could hardly believe what she saw, but she knew now why The Blithesome Miss had led her here; She was to serve the Dralan in whatever way he saw fit. From what he had spoken to her, she had understood he just wanted to feed from her, but something inside his electric blue eyes had told her he wanted more from her. So much more.

Shuddering by the thought, she chose to focus on what was the plan for now; All she had to do was be at his disposal whenever he needed her vein, and in return, he would offer her safety.

Safety. A thing she had sought out her whole life, but never found. Maybe this was where she would finally find it. Who better to be protected by than the Dralan of their kingdom, the purest blooded vampire in the world? A legend said that the purer the blood, the stronger the vampire. If that was true, that meant the Dralan had to be incredibly powerful. But if he didn't get his daily dosage of blood, he would lose that strength. The way she saw it, he needed her so he could protect her. Her own blood would help keep her safe.

The door to the Dralan's room got opened and Leyla spun around, only to find the very Dralan himself finally return. He was wearing his ceremonial robe, the ones that the highest priests wore when they payed tribute to The Blithesome Miss. Perhaps he had been praying in her honor, the finding of a Mihr, or a Mihrisa, as he had called her.

Leyla dropped to her knees and knelt deeply before him, leaning her forehead against her hands, which she rested against the clean floor. She heard his footsteps approach her, before she saw them stop before her fingertips.

"Rise, my sweet Mihrisa."

She did, slowly getting to her feet, but kept her head and eyes tilted down. It was only when his hand caught her chin and forced her head up, she met his eyes.

She held her breath when the electrical blue eyes looked down deeply at her, piercing her body like two small, but powerful knives. He was so tall, she had to crane her head back. His lips twitched, as her own lips parted, when her lungs began to beg for oxygen. "Breathe, Mihrisa. It's time we talk."

On his command, she willed her mouth to suck in a breath and then swallow when her throat felt awfully dry.

"Good. Now tell me, where do you stem from, Leyla?" He conversed, dropping his hand from her chin. He walked around her to his closet.

"I-I... I stem from Eraldrulth, my Lord," Leyla truthfully replied, not daring to turn around when she heard the sound of fabric being manipulated.

"Why did you come to my castle?" More ruffling of clothes. She could only imagine what he was doing.

"I-I was on the run from the Mihr hunters," She stammered, swallowing hard again when she heard the rattle of metal now. What was he doing? "They invaded my village and raped every Mihr they found."