51. BLOODFEEDING
Chapter fifty-one
BLOODFEEDING
Grand Lord Vladya slumped in his study chair, his gaze fixed blankly on the weathered stone wall. He had sent a soldier to summon Merrilyn.
The soldier's report resounded in his skull. Lady Merrilyn has been in labor for hours, and thus unable to make the journey.
The next thing to do was clear. He needed to hurry to his bloodhost before the poison reached his heart, while some strength remained, and get the much-needed blood himself.
Even if it meant a sip from a goblet, just to sustain him until the healer arrived. Any other male in his position would have done it.
Not him.
His eyes fell to the ravaged flesh on his shoulder. The wound throbbed, swollen, black veins pulsing outward, tracing a macabre path toward his heart.
While hunting in the woods with his soldiers, he had spotted an assassin. He'd sent Yaz and the others ahead, then gave chase. He wasn't surprised to learn they were targeting Emeriel.
He had known yesterday's events would put the boy in greater danger. He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Was it Zaiper? Or were there others?
The door creaked open, and Yaz entered, his scent thick with concern. "I shall hurry to Lady Merilyn's dwelling and inform them of your poisoning, my Lord. She would bleed herself dry to save you, even amidst labor's agony. She is unaware of the severity of your need.”
"There's no need. Send for the healer." Vladya dismissed with a wave of his hand.
Yaz remained rooted in place. "The poison will reach your heart before the healer arrives."
"Just do as I said, Yaz." Vladya leaned back, his eyelids fluttered close. He was so tired.
"But—" Yaz's protest hung heavy in the silence.
In the end, however, the scrape of wood on stone marked Yaz's reluctant departure.
Aekeira tended her garden with a watering can. Sunlight dappled her skin as she moved, pouring a stream of water to nourish the plants below. Tending to the vibrant array of flowers and vegetables. Sound of water meeting the soil always brought her a sense of comfort.
The sharp crack of a footstep approaching shattered her tranquility.
Startled, Aekeira whirled around.
Lord Vladya's head soldier stood rigid, his familiar face hard.
"Lord Vladya summons you," he stated in a clipped voice.
Aekeira's heart skipped a beat. "He does?" It had been two days since that disastrous night, and she hadn't seen him since.
The soldier clenched his jaw, flicking his gaze away. "Yes. Make haste."
His behavior was strange. "Is everything alright?" she asked tentatively.
"Everything is fine," he retorted, the words as sharp as a blade. "Now, come."
"Just a moment to—"
"No, come at once."
Dropping the watering can with a clatter, she removed her apron and hurried after him. What was going on?
They strode towards the grand entrance, and inside the vast residence. The soldier halted before an imposing set of doors.
"I will leave you here. He awaits within. Enter," he commanded, and with a brisk turn, he was gone.
Watching him retreat, Aekeira shook her head. Too serious, too rigid. Like master, like soldier.
She rapped hesitantly on the wood, but with a groan of ancient hinges, the door swung inward, revealing a sliver of shadowed space.
Venturing into the study, her steps was hesitant. She crossed the threshold, the scent of old parchment filling her nostrils.
"Your Highness?" Aekeira's voice shook despite her attempt to be calm. "You called for me?"
Her scent hit him.
Grand Lord Vladya eyes opened, like twin pools of darkness.
It has always been alluring, but now, mixed with the fragrance of roses, Aekeira smelled unimaginably appealing.
"No, I did not" he spoke through clenched teeth.
"No? But your head soldier... he said—"
Yaz? He had brought Aekeira here?
Anger surged, battling the weakness in his body. Leaning back, he shut his eyes. "Leave. I did not—"
She gasped. "You're bleeding! You're hurt!"
The next second, her scent engulfed him. Unbelievably close. The sweet notes of rose mingled with vanilla bean.
"It is nothing. A mere scratch—" The words died on his lips as the sharp rip of fabric pierced the air.
Eyes snapped open, he stared at her. Aekeira had torn a strip from the hem of her dress. Stepping closer hurriedly and determined, she held the torn cloth like a weapon.
"What madness is this?" Vladya snapped.
"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 sweet, heady scent of her blood flowed over him 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. Her blood called to him.
"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 with a flicker of fear. Her face paled, and she swallowed nervously. But her defiance held her ground.
"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 plagued 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.
"Em…!?" her voice choked with a new fear.
"Do you have another brother?" Vladya pressed sarcastically.
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 with a weary sigh.
But she halted. "Wait. You saved Em? You?" Incredulity laced her voice.
Vladya's eyes flew open. Silence fell.
"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 shared solely by this female and her brother?
"Fine," he conceded, angrily. "I saved the boy's life. Are you satisfied? Now, go tend to him and leave me in peace, Aekeira."
She only stepped closer. Hesitant. "You saved his life. You saved Em’s life." Wonder warring her features.
Vladya sighed.
Her eyes locked with his, a lot of emotions revealed in 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.”
The hush was only broken 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 deep hunger attacked him, almost drowning all reason.
In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall. "Are you mad? Do you tempt death so freely? Do not utter such words again. Ever.”
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 was weakening 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 need permission to drink from a person the first time, do you not? Without it, the blood tastes bland and useless?” she nodded. “You need blood to heal. And so, I give you my consent.”
Vladya was surprised and it showed. Most people fled when he was like this—witches, Urekai, werewolves, all of them. Yet this tiny human princess 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 male simply cannot win. This was one of them.
Taking her neck, he positioned her as he wanted, piercing her skin a bit to infuse his elixir into her neck, dulling the 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 dick as hard as granite, pulsed in his breeches, 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.
"I need, I need..." Sobs of pleasure racked her throat.
Had she never experienced pleasure before? Did she not know what her body needed? Did she not realize she was on the verge of climax?
But the innocence in her helpless movements, the clumsiness in her jerky motions, made it clear she didn't. The realization shook him to his core.
He extended his thigh, parting her legs, and pressed it against her aching core.
She whimpered, grinding against him. Her actions driven purely by instinct—uncoordinated yet utterly addictive. “Oh…Ooh…”
A plaintive whine escaped her throat as she climaxed, grinding furiously. The heat of her release soaked his thigh, her scent a heady musk driving him to the brink of madness.
Then she sagged against him and Vladya held her tenderly. Only soft mewls broke the stillness as he continued to drink.
But he really had to stop now, or he would drain her.
With sheer willpower he didn't know he possessed, he forced himself to stop. Retracting his fangs, he sealed the ragged puncture marks with a swipe of his tongue.
She lay limp in his arms, breathing raggedly. Utterly at his mercy. The sight stirred something within him.
His eyes observed her, and a growl emerged from deep within him. She was blood drunk.
Eyes drooped, lips slackened, unintelligible words tumbled from her mouth. Her head rolled from side to side, lost in a euphoric haze.
A feeder getting blood-drunk wasn't rare, but it didn't happen all the time. It had been so long since someone had become intoxicated from his feeding.
A knock shattered the languid silence. Yaz's head peeked through the opening. "My Lord, apologies, but I bear urgent news. Maids whisper of assassins in Blackstone, hunting the human prince. He's rumored to be fleeing towards the southern wing."
Vladya's head snapped up, the lingering haze of satisfied feeding shattered. He tightened his grip on Aekeira, preventing her from slumping, while his gaze whipped around the room. "Emeriel?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Aekeira released a soft giggle, her unfocused eyes wandering above with the hazy focus of confusion and utter happiness.
"High as a kite," Vladya murmured.
Then, he scooped her up, crossed the room and deposited her on the couch to sleep it off. Slipping into his robe, he followed Yaz out. A strange lightness filled him.
His wounds ached less, and he could feel the beginning of the healing process.