Dralan [On Hold]

Twelve

Dohmenic

Everything had gone so well. The Bhrakla Aurora went on without a hitch, and his Mihrisa, as he had predicted, enchanted the whole room with her beauty and voice. He had felt the musk of every male in the room change into lust as they laid eyes upon her and it had made him see red with anger.

But as he locked eyes with his breathtaking Mihrisa, she had sight for nobody but him. She looked so scared and tiny standing up on that huge stage, but as if merely looking at him, he had seen how her tense body visibly relaxed. She had let out a small sigh of relief she probably didn't even notice she did, but it meant all the world to him.

She found strength in him, her Dralan, the only male she was allowed to look at, talk to, and touch. And from the look in her eyes, she craved to touch him. Her body was shaking with a need that only he could satisfy and she knew that. She was his.

Her beauty had momentarily stunned him as well as all the other males. The minute she stepped out onto the stage, his heart accelerated. She looked absolutely mouthwatering and beautiful in her pure white dress, her golden locks and porcelain skin a sweet contrast. He had been completely dazed for a whole of 30 seconds, but then he remembered that she was waiting for his mark. That's when he had nodded and his Mihrisa had begun singing to him. Throughout the whole song, she never mispronounced a word and not a tone was out of key; she made him swell with pride. Literally.

As his Mihrisa backed off the stage after the performance, he felt in his breeches how he was rock hard, throbbing with need. He needed his Mihrisa, craved to touch her, damned if it was only on her hands and thighs. He needed to feel her in his arms, hear those small sounds she made whenever he did things to her that aroused her.

He was just about to excuse himself when he felt a chill go through his body. As if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over him, his entire body cooled.

Something was off. Hell, something was so fucking wrong that he for some reason wanted to kill someone. He tasted blood in his mouth, and that's when he knew.

His eyes shot open. Without even thinking of the celebration he was the host of, he shot out of his chair and stormed out of the ballroom. His guests glared shocked after his lethal form stalking out of the room, everyone clearing a path for him, but nobody dared speak a word to him. As he with a rigid body and clenched fists left the ballroom, he let his body guide him where he wanted to go.

His Mihrisa's blood was within him, that meant he shared a sacred bond with her; he could pin her down even if she was miles away, seek her out like a moth to her flame. Like a magnet, her blood within him pulled him to its owner, led him out into the hall, behind the stage, where his whole body then froze up.

The doors to the balcony stood wide open, and there, by the railing, his Mihrisa was kneeling before another male, drinking the blood from his vein. She moaned delightfully as she suckled, just as the male, whom by his appearance was one of his Kathmirs, cupped the back of her head and encouraged her to keep drinking.

Something exploded within him just then. An invisible force of energy burst from his body, expanded until everything within a fifteen feet radius got either knocked over, blow out or shattered. His body was shaking so fiercely, it felt as if the ground beneath him did, too.

Red was all he saw.

With a roar that carried all the way through his castle, maybe even his kingdom, the Dralan launched forward. The puny Kathmir didn't even see him coming before he was beneath him, fighting for his breath. His Mihrisa collapsed on the floor next him, out cold. Even in his hazy urge to do nothing but kill, his attention was brought to his Mihrisa who now laid lifelessly on the cold ground, barely breathing.