Midnight Pleasure [THE PLEASURE SERIES BOOK 1]

Chapter Thirty - Drystan

Drystan stood at the edge of the compound, looking out into the night. He didn't want to step out into the woods tonight. He looked back toward the direction of his house, knowing that his mate was waiting for him. He shook his head as he stepped out into the night. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness around him. Drystan patted his sides, making sure that he had his weapons.

Drystan didn't believe that Alathic would come close to the compound now, but he wouldn't put it past him. He wanted his mate. Drystan knew that Alathic would do whatever he could to get her back.

He didn't think Melora's father would give up on the money Alathic promised him. Drystan hoped he was wrong and that Melora's father was traveling back to his clan, but he had doubts. Her father had always talked to him about needing money to buy more land for his people. Drystan had talked him out of adding more taxes to his people but didn't think he would go as far as selling his daughter to a monster.

"To someone like me," he spoke aloud. And now she's like me, he thought to himself. He moved further into the forest, keeping a sharp eye on the trees. He prayed to whoever would listen that the morning would come soon so he could get back his mate. He licked his lips at the thought of tasting her again. Her taste was intoxicating to him. For years he had dreamed of how she would taste and feel to him, and now he knows. He would never let her go.

Sharp movement came from the right. He whirled over in that direction but saw nothing. He felt the air around him and noticed the thickness for the first time. The animals of the night weren't scurrying across the forest floor or moving in the trees anymore. Something was in the forest with him. He moved his hand over his knife, hoping that whatever it was, he would be able to kill it quickly.

"You thought you could hide from me?" a thick voice resonated through the trees. Drystan whirled around, knife blazoned in his hand, trying to find the voice's owner. Deep, dark laughter echoed around him. "You won't be able to find me, but I found you."

Drystan growled, frustrated that he couldn't find the voice's owner or even recognize the voice. "Who dares threaten me?"

"I'm not threatening," the voice chuckled again. "I'm warning you."

Drystan stopped moving and gripped the handle of his knife tighter. "Warning me about what?" he growled.

"You're precious, little mate," the voice whispered. Drystan whirled around but still couldn't find whoever was talking to him. "She's not safe. You left her. You left her unprotected."

Drystan shook his head, his heart beating hard in his chest. "You're wrong. She's safe."

"How do you know she's safe?" the voice chuckled around him. "I can see her now." A deep sound moved through the forest. "She looks good enough to eat, doesn't she?"

"Shut the fuck up," Drystan growled loudly. He slashed the knife through the air, trying to hit whatever was threatening Melora. His mate. His.

The voice laughed loudly. "You can't hurt me, you fucking fool. But I could hurt you." Before Drystan could figure out what the voice meant about what it had just said, he felt a sharp, stinging sensation on the back of his neck. "Now," the voice chuckled. Drystan felt his body drop to the ground as his vision started to blur. "Nothing can stop me from having what is rightfully mine." The last thing Drystan saw before blacking out was Alathic's face sneering down at him.

----

Drystan's eyes snapped open as white-hot pain seared his skin. He screamed out in pain and bared his fangs at his attacker. A man dressed in black with a hood over his face held a brander, the tip red hot. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as his eyes stared at the brander. A single letter was on the end of the brander - A. Alathic. The man started to come at him again with the brander but stopped short when Drystan moved toward him. His limbs were tied tightly, making it difficult for him to move.

Drystan's eyes moved over to the man sitting across from him. Alathic sat there, his eyes red with fury as he leaned back in his chair. His long, brown hair held streaks of grey; age was finally starting to catch up to him. He smiled at Drystan, showing him his long fangs. "How entertaining is this," he chuckled. Alathic stood up and walked gracefully in front of Drystan. He gripped his chin, making Drystan look up at him. Alathic's nails grew and dug into Drystan's skin. "You've caused me quite some pain, son."

"Fuck you," Drystan hissed as Alathic's nails dug deeper into his skin.

"I don't think you understand, Drystan," Alathic growled. He pushed Drystan's head to the side sharply. "You stole my property."

Drystan growled. "Do not call her your property. She's not yours."

Alathic rolled his eyes. "I bought her, Drystan. She does not belong to you. I know you claimed her, and she's probably changed because of you, but none of that matters to me." Alathic smirked at him. "Your little mate will bring me many heirs." He leaned closer to him. "And I mean, many heirs."

Drystan's response was only a growl. He started to see red. "You'll never get a chance to touch her. I will kill you if you lay a single finger on her."

Alathic chuckled. "I don't think you realize how easy it was to get her back." He turned around and started to walk toward the metal door. "Bring in my Queen."

Drystan's eyes widened as Melora was pushed through the door by a large guard. She was wearing a tight white dress and white heels. His heart dropped as he took her in. His eyes roamed the visible skin, but he saw no bruises. Good, he thought to himself. His eyes continued to roam up and stopped at her face. Her cheeks were tear-stained, but her eyes were covered with a white blindfold.

"Melora," he gently called out to her. Her body instantly straightened at the sound of his voice. She started to open her mouth when Alathic grabbed her chin.

"You do not answer him," Alathic growled at her. "You will never answer him again. He is nothing to you anymore." He looked up at a man who was walking into the room. "Nice for you to finally join us, Ba Coford."