Dralan [On Hold]

Forty-Seven

Leyla

Leyla kept her eyes firm on him. The Dralan didn't look away either, but stared intensely back at her, almost daring her to even blink.

She swallowed loudly and felt as the blood of his best friend seeped down her throat, dulling the ache. With a shudder, she felt her body's yearning fire dim down and become a weak flutter. She eagerly drank more, filling herself with the nourishing red liquid.

"Just a few moments more," Callath told. His words didn't separate their gaze, but rather intensified it. The Dralan's eyes darkened and his pupils dilated as he watched her lips suck on Callath's skin, not letting a drop go to waste. A low growl sounded from him and his fists clenched.

He didn't like it any more than she did. That being said, Leyla owed her gratitude to Callath. She felt wrong drinking the blood of another male—a male whom was courting her own Kischmir. She felt uncomfortable, awkward, but most of all, she felt like she was doing wrong by the Dralan, even though he was the one who set up the arrangement.

The circumstances were unfortunate, but the fact of the matter was, there was no other male he entrusted to feed her.

Now that Leyla was stronger than ever, it was imperial that she remained as so. To such affect, she had to stay physically strong as well, meaning she needed to feed more regularly. Since her first day at the palace, her feeding had always been a complicated affair. Finally, the Dralan had set up an arrangement with his Kathmir who willingly had agreed to give her his blood, despite the fact that another female had claimed his vein. Leyla had voiced her distress to Bhria as well, who like Callath humbly had told her there was no other way. It was for the greater good.

Leyla sighed and retracted her fangs from Callath's arm when she finally felt full. The second she was done, the Dralan had her in his arms, holding her to his chest. He growled possessively and clenched her tightly while Callath licked up his own wound and rolled down his sleeve.

"Thank you," Leyla breathed and tried to look up at him through the blurry haze of her eyes. The Dralan instantly growled and turned her eyes to his, pinning them back on him. She hummed softly and crooned when he rubbed his cheek against hers; He was reasserting his scent on her, wiping away the fresh scent of his friend's blood running through her veins.

"It's my honor. Sire." Callath gave a bow to Dohmenic who granted him a brief nod back. That was as far as he could thank him. Male possessiveness was a fickle thing, but Leyla suspected this was more about pride; His best friend feeding his female because he couldn't. It had to sting his ego, but she knew as well as he did, there was currently no other way unless they wanted her to thirst to death.

Callath left them be in the Dralan's chamber and closed the door behind him. The second he did, the Dralan lifted Leyla up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down softly, he peeled off his shirt and laid down on top of her. Slipping a hand under her, he applied pressure to her lower back and pulled her up to his groin. Smiling, Leyla arched and wrapped her arms around him, letting him slowly grind against her to reapply his scent.

She needed Callath's blood, but she didn't want to smell like him.

She hummed in delight as she detected the Dralan's mating scent begin to evolve. It tickled her nose and made her lungs burn; her legs clenched in need and she wrapped them around him instinctively. He rumbled into her neck with satisfaction and kissed her vein - sucked on the delicate skin until it left a pink mark.