A surge of fury battled the weakness coursing through Vladya’s veins. Leaning back, he shut his eyes. “Leave. I did not-“
She gasped. “You’re bleeding!” She gasped again, more urgently. “You’re hurt!” The next second, her scent engulfed him, unbelievably close. The sweet notes of rose mingled with vanilla bean.
“It is nothing,” Vladya ground out through clenched teeth. “A mere scratch-“
The words died on his lips as the sharp rip of fabric pierced the air. Eyes snapping open, he stared at her. Aekeira had torn a strip from the hem of her dress. Her movements rushed and determined, and she stepped closer, holding the torn cloth like a weapon.
“What madness is this?”
“We must stop the bleeding, Your Highness,” she said firmly. The improvised bandage brushed against his fevered skin, sending an unwelcome jolt through his system.
The scent of her blood, sweet and heady, washed over him like a breaking wave. Like a blooming field of wildflowers. His nostrils flared, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.
Every fiber of his being screamed for sustenance; his weakened state, blood loss, and the poison gnawing at his control. His vision blurred, her vibrant life force a beacon against the encroaching darkness.
“Get away from me, Aekeira,” Vladya snarled, the words ragged through his lengthening fangs. “Go, before I-” He couldn’t finish the threat, the hunger a burning coal in his gut.
Aekeira met his gaze, her own widening with a flicker of fear. Her face paled, and she swallowed nervously. But something else held her ground-a stubborn defiance laced with compassion.
“I can’t. Not until this is bound.” She tightened the makeshift bandage, her touch feather-light against his burning skin.
Where did she find such courage? The question gnawed at him as a strange sensation rippled through him. A yearning for much more. A craving for the very thing he must deny himself.
“Your brother was attacked. Poisoned arrows in the woods. I sent him to his chamber to rest.”
Aekeira went still, a gasp escaping her.
“Em…” Her voice cracked, choked with a new fear.
“Do you have another brother?” Vladya pressed sarcastically, a sliver of cruelty slicing through the haze of need.
Her hand fell away from his wound. Aekeira spun away, skirts swirling as she lunged for the door.
Vladya nodded. “I thought so,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes slid shut, and his head fell back, a weary sigh escaping him.
But her steps faltered. “Wait. You saved Em? You?” Incredulity laced her voice.
Vladya’s eyes flew open. Silence fell like a shroud.
“I did not say that,” he stated at last.
“But that’s what happened, isn’t it?” Aekeira murmured. “It would explain the wounds, the poison.”
Vladya was too exhausted for this confrontation. Were all human royals this stubborn, or was it a trait solely found in this female and her brother?
“Fine,” he conceded, the word heavy with resignation. “I saved the boy’s life. Are you satisfied? Now, go tend to him and leave me in peace, Aekeira.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his voice as he added, “Please.”
She only stepped closer. Her movements were infused with a strange, hesitant grace.
“You saved his life. You saved Em’s life,” she repeated, wonder warping her features.
Vladya sighed.
Her eyes locked with his, a torrent of emotions swirling within them-concern, a fierce protectiveness, and a strange glint of… fascination?
“I can’t leave you like this.”
“Of course, you can.”
“Let me help you,” she whispered.
He laughed, a harsh, empty, mirthless sound. “You cannot help me.”
Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rasp of Vladya’s breath.
“You can drink from me.”
He stopped breathing. The words, soft yet loaded with shocking resolve, sent a tremor through him. His inner beast roared in response, and a primal, deep hunger filled him, threatening to drown out all reason.
In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall. His large form a looming threat, fangs glinting in the dim light.
“Are you mad?” he snarled, his voice a rasping echo against the stone walls. “Do you tempt death so freely? Do not utter such words again. Ever.”
Yet, she met his gaze without flinching. “I wish for you to drink from me,” she repeated in a soft whisper.
His body throbbed in eagerness. Hunger clawed at him. His control weakened, fraying with every beat of her heart.
If her blood were as sweet as it smelled, he would drink her dry.
“Speak those words again, and I may take you at your offer,” he warned in a low tone.
“Your kind, you need permission to drink from a person the first time? Without it, the blood tastes bland and useless?” He nodded.
“You need blood to heal. And so, I give you my consent,” she said, her voice steady.
A flicker of surprise coursed through him. Most people fled when he was like this-witches, Urekai, werewolves, all of them. Yet this tiny human princess always held her ground. A perplexing blend of bravery, stubbornness, and an iron will.
Qualities he’d once adored in a female. A lifetime ago.
“Drink from me, Your Highness,” she urged, eyes closed as she tilted her head in a gesture of complete surrender. “I give you permission.”
Her throat, pale and vulnerable, pulsed under his gaze. There are certain battles a man simply cannot win. This was one of them.
A groan of surrender escaped him as he took her neck, positioning her as he wanted. As his fangs pierced her skin, he infused her with his elixir, dulling the inevitable pain of penetration. Then, his fangs fully sank home. Aekeira’s cry was a startled gasp, then a shuddering moan of pleasure.
Vladya groaned, the sound raw and uncontrolled. His eyes closed as her blood sang to him. Sweetness bloomed on his tongue, richer than any wine. The tang of iron, laced with a sweetness like sun-warmed honey, and a stark, elemental purity like a winter sunrise.
She was intoxicating. A heavenly delight.
He drew from her, feeling the throb of her pulse against his lips. Her body writhed in his grip.
“Oh, Lights!” she cried, fingers clenching into his shoulders.
Vladya was lost in a dangerous paradise. It had been too long-too long-since he had experienced such bliss. He drank deeper, his own control hanging by the thinnest thread. Her pulse thrummed beneath his touch, mirroring the frantic beat of his own heart.
“Please…” her cries a broken plea. “Oh, please, please, please.”
The haze of pleasure was overwhelming. His body, rock hard and pulsing in his breeches, made the bulge visible through his clothes.
Just as her nakedness had enticed him, her blood enthralled him. It held him captive, a slave to his desires.
He drank greedily. Helplessly.
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