Bite Me Royal... (Mature Vampire Romance 18+)

Chapter Two

The pic above is of Amir Accad Khalid...

Amir's P.O.V

My men and I finally come upon the powerful iron gates that separate Raiz Kingdom from the dark barren lands outside. The dense doors glide open, and out treads a six-foot-two or so soldier -spear clutched in hand. Once he finally gains recognition of who we are -without hesitation- he jogs back to the thick metal barriers. With the help of two more soldiers just as tall as he, he pushes the doors open for our entry.

"Prince Amir Accad Khalid, welcome to Raiz Kingdom," the three armored lads chant in unison.

They proceed to hammer their spears into the sandy earth twice, before taking a bow on a single knee -a gesture of respect they term it. Then, they are stood upon their feet once more. From the leaping illuminations of the flaming torches by the mighty gates, I am well able to make out their facial expressions -the stoicism that masks the horror that is embedded, the terror that is etched.

I comprehend that much, seeing as my reputation far exceeds me. I have come to terms with who I have molded into over the eons. You do not battle against or cower from the darkness within. You embrace it with a fiery intensity.

Persons pave way as our horses and carriages drag through the multitudes and towards the castle that stands proud under the glaring moonlight. Yes, I can taste the anxiety, the terror that radiates from the throng of spectators, how it flows off of them in waves. I clench my jaws, take in one long whiff of the fear that coats and laces the atmosphere about me.

By now, I assume that Jafari -the imbecile- has received word of our arrival, because I can clearly paint out his plump figure rooted upon the grounds before the doors of his home. In a short moment, I am staring down upon him as he claps palms in fake jolly and chuckles in feigned merry.

"Prince Amir Accad Khalid. Welcome, welcome, prince. To what do I owe the pleasures of your glorious presence?"

Oh, the hypocrisy. I can smell his intentions of my death as clearly as I can the putrid stench that reeks from his mouth. Fake pleasantries when both he and I have knowledge of our mutual loathing. I climb down the overly-energetic stallion, run a hand down its velvety mane. Then, I proceed to face upon the king.

"King Jafari. I am here to make you an offer. One you shan't be able to refute. Shall we?"
"You have not changed one bit, my boy. Come in, come in."

After seconds convert into long minutes, Zyir and I are finally sat upon one of the chaise lounges adjacent to the one Jafari is perched upon.

"Tell me, boy. What is it you wish to discuss?"

I absolutely detest it when he refers to me using such term. Boy! I am millennia older than even the eldest of his ancestors.
He and my father are great allies. But that is as far as it goes.

"Call me that again, and I shalt gouge your eyes out," I work to regulate my tone.
"Oh, is that a threat in my kingdom, under my roof?"

A small smirk curves upon my lips. It dissipates just as quickly as it appeared.
I could easily cause the man unimaginable agony and wipe his memory slate-clean. Still, blood spill whilst a person still holds onto the fragments of the torturous memory is always far better than compulsion.

"It is a promise of hurt, king."

I see the storm that brews deep within his eyes, can envision the invisible leash he has to strap around his neck in order to tame his rage.

"I received word that your mines' men have stumbled upon a copper mining site, no?"
"True that, Prince Amir."
"A good thing indeed. Thus, here is what I seek to bring to the table. The mine site in exchange for fifty thousand pounds of gold, fifty thousand pounds of iron, as well as medicinal oils from my lands. The very best might I add. Has not your kingdom been struck by a peculiar illness, I hear? Executed a good number of infants, no? And your herbalists lack both the expertise and herbs to combat against, I hear. What do..."

I do not get to make completion of the statement. A sudden unfamiliar and yet overly-intoxicating scent wafts and diffuses across the chamber. I fight to keep my thoughts clear from the fog, battle to keep my demeanor composed. Then, a young lass graces us with her presence, makes her way into the chamber -a golden tray clutched in her palms. She is of a dark complexion, her skin as fine as the most expensive of silks.

The hairs of her head are braided and beaded and pour down to the curves of her hips. She wears a single white clothe that covers her bosom, and skirts whose hems kiss the grounds upon which she treads. Beaded strings of silver slither around her waist and upper arms -all the more emphasizing on the loveliness of her complexity.

And upon her ears and nose are silvery rings that glimmer under the candelabras. Her sandals make light noises as she proceeds to where we sit. Her movements are almost gracious even as she pours each man a tumbler of grape wine.

Her feet glide over marble floors smoothly and finally, she stands beside the old king. I see what Jafari is keen on trying to accomplish as he works to pull the lass even closer to himself. His palm glides down her body and gropes harshly her arse, his gaze firmly burrowing holes into my face. She lets out a small whimper at the contact, and gradually, I feel myself losing grip on the calm.

Tranquility, Amir. Tranquility. Another harsh grope and the female gasps almost painfully.

"Release her, Jafari," I speak, I smirk in warning.
"She is just but a slave."
"That you will release, Jafari," smirk turns into smile.
"We have far more grave matters to discuss, king," Zyir chimes in.

Pin-drop silence engulfs the room. My jaws tick. The irrational part of my brain seeks a release.

"Leave!" He commands, and with her chin held high as though in defiance, the young woman makes to exit the chamber.
"Back to that which you were offering, prince. I do accept your proposal seeing as I hold two more copper mining sites in my possession. When shalt I receive my share of the bargain pray tell?"
"They already are in your kingdom as we speak, king," Zyir responds.

I keep mute, I ponder to myself, I draw a new conclusion.

"One more thing, Jafari," I begin.
"What shalt it be, prince?"
"The girl. I should like to take her as well. Name your price."
"Well, unfortunately, she is not up for sale. She is my slave, I own her now."

A peculiar thing, indeed. Jafari is well known for his generosity with his slaves. And his love for wealth. And thus...

"What is so unique about this one?" I question whilst tilting head slightly.
"Nothing."
"Do not deceive me if you know that which is good for you, Jafari."

He chews on his lip, contemplates his words wisely. A good thing. He takes in one long whiff of air, exhales a sharp breath.

"She, Yalifa Mizraim Gamila, is a witch. A gypsy witch. Only I am aware of this fact. Therefore..."
"You seek to use her in times of war for your own gain," I conclude, effectively cutting him off.

Man only nods head.

"I shalt take her with me, Jafari. 'Tis not up for discussion."
"You cannot simply do that. You cannot take her! Go on, take all my slaves, but leave this one!"
"Do not formulate decisions on the mere basis of your stupidity, Jafari. You, better than all, should fathom the depths of my fury. Tread carefully."

He jerks from his seat as though burnt, then works to strike my cheek. I grab hold of his wrist, my grip tightening by the minute. He winces at the hurt, grimaces, then bellows as the agony consumes. There is just something about a man who slaps his fellow. I cannot tolerate that sort of absurdity. Oh, how I yearn to snap his fragile little wrist, the human. My hold falters, weakens and ultimately, his arm drops to his right side.
He looks upon his purpling skin, rubs on it. Then, he glowers upon me, his brows knitting.

"Get out of my home, Amir! Get out this instant! How dare you make your way into my home unannounced, then demand to take with you my most prized possession? Guards, see them out! Oh and, I render the negotiations void, you filthy rat!"

Armed soldiers clad in regalia of an amber hue flood the chamber. Oh, how sweetly the blood calls out to me, how sweetly it whispers promises of bliss in my ears. I rise from the seat and Zyir follows suit. I look upon the king, smile.

"No need for the commotion, King Jafari. I know where the exit lies. Have yourselves a pleasant eve."

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