The days spent in Istralis flew by, and she was enjoying herself far too much. The humans fascinating her in the way they interacted, and it left her wandering how they could be so similar, and yet so completely and utterly foreign to her.
They ate almost constantly, and she had been convinced to try to eat several of the foods they had, though none of them had been to her liking except for one, a very large and very orange and yellow fruit with stringy flesh and a large seed in the middle.
Malik had convinced her to try a piece, and in the time it had taken him to turn around to pick up something else and turn back, the bowl was empty and her mouth was full, chewing happily while trying not to choke on the flood of nectar that filled her mouth.
He had burst out laughing at the sight and she glared, though the effect was ruined by her bulging cheeks and furious chewing.
She had been told it was called a mango and when the human had turned away, she had stolen as many as would fit in a basket and tucked it behind her back. He had known, of course, but had let it slide in his pleasure that she had found something she liked.
The rest weren't as good, though she only tried a few and repeatedly refused the rest, regardless of how many times they insisted on her eating more and constant complaints that she was too thin.
Smirking at Malik when the subject had come up, he only shook his head and tried not to cringe as he remembered the sight of her last full meal.
Russo hadn't gotten any nicer to her, but she didn't care all that much, even though she felt him watching her when Malik wasn't paying attention. She had met his stare several times, a little disturbed when he hadn't looked away.
Deciding to keep it to herself as not to ruin the harmony of their family, she had told Malik that she would be leaving, and he had dropped the bowl he was carrying for the fifth meal of the day.
"Malik… be careful," she sighed as she crouched down and picked up the horrible spiky fruits that she had tried once before, dropped them into her shirt as she held the fabric out from her stomach.
"Why are you leaving?" he demanded.
She looked up at him, the attention of the room turning to them and his indignation.
"What do you mean 'why'? I told you I would stay only for a week at most. It's been six days."
He was frozen and when she stood, he was still simply staring at her with his mouth turned down into a scowl.
Placing the broken bowl on the table, she glanced up at the family that had heard his shout, but not her response from across the room, curious to know what was going on but too polite to interrupt.
"You can't leave," he said, his warm fingers curling around her wrist.
She looked down at it, his tanned skin contrasting sharply against the paleness of hers.
"Why not?" she asked, giving her arm a small tug, but he refused to let go.
"You're safe here. You've been enjoying yourself here," he said and when she tried to pull away again, his fingers tightened until it started to hurt.
"Let go, you're hurting me," she said, trying to keep her voice low as she saw Russo inching his way closer, hopeful that Malik might try to hold her.
"You have to stay, we can keep you safe, protect you," he said.
She shook her head, twisting her wrist in an effort to get free. "Malik you need to let go. I don't belong here; this is your world, and they'll find me."
"Who will find you?" Russo asked with a gleeful smile.
Malik jumped and looked up at his big brother, neither of them aware of just how good his hearing was.
"None of your business. Malik, let go." She tugged at her wrist and his fingers tightened until his knuckles were white and her arm ached, making her flinch.
"You never did say why you were on the run… are you an outlaw?" Russo seemed to be jumping to any conclusion that would allow him to detain her, and she frowned, refusing to let that happen.
"It's none of your business, Russo," she snapped.
The king and queen glanced at one another and the king stood, frowning when another of his children held out their arm to watch the tension growing between the three of them.
"Malik, if you don't let me go, I will have to force you," she said quietly, trying to reason with him. She could see his panic, that need to keep her close that she suspected was the same as what her own kind felt, only it was less dominate and more protect.
"What are you running from, little queen?" Russo purred.
"Don't call me that," she said, irritated by the endearment used by so many of the Gods in her life.
"What are you running from?"
"It's none of your business, Russo."
"Tell me!" he boomed, and she flinched, her eardrums quivering painfully at the volume of his voice.
"Russo!" the queen shouted, angry at him for daring to raise his voice at her.
Russo reached for her and she jerked back, trapped by the panic frozen Malik and she lashed out, leaving four deep cuts on his palm.
He yelped and jerked back in shock, looking at the blood.
The smell hit her, and she looked down at her hand slowly, his blood seeming to glitter on her fingers. Slowly, she lifted it to her lips.
The humans watched in horrified fascination as she licked the blood from her fingers, and she felt the sudden hunger come raging up through her.
Malik had come back to himself at the splatter of blood on his face and he looked at his brother, then at her and the blood on her lips, the bloodlust in her eyes.
He shouted even as she growled and lunged for the giant, the enormous man staggering backwards while Malik jerked her backwards so that she missed his arm by almost a foot.
The smell of him, oh it was good. It was so amazingly good, and she wanted more, more than just a taste of him. She wanted all of him, his blood and his flesh. She wanted to see the life draining out of his eyes while she tore into him.
Arms went around her, and her own arms were trapped against her sides, reaching for the giant man who yelled for something,
Malik was shouting and then pain ripped through her. Looking down at the rope, she lifted her eyes and followed it along to its source, the other brother holding a large, very heavy looking crossbow.
The king had moved in front of the queen and was protecting her, the female children all clustered at the back of the room with two of their brothers standing between her and them, keeping them safe. The sight was ridiculous. Men protecting women, it was laughable when any one of those women could have protected themselves.
Reaching down, she tugged at the rope and then whimpered when she felt it tugging at her back, the stupid thing having gone all the way through her and….
Looking behind her, she frowned at the sight of the blood that was not hers and looked up at Malik, his eyes wide in pain.
"Malik?" she asked nervously.
It took her a minute to realise that he was in fact human, and while the damage to her would heal, he may not recover.
Snatching the knife out of his belt, she cut the rope and pulled it free from her back, turning and grabbing the man before he could fall.
It had gone clean through his navel and out the other side, the claw digging into his lower back. He was most certainly going to die.
"Malik!" the queen screamed when she saw the blood and the crossbow hit the floor with a clattering that was terribly loud in the sudden silence.
What did she do? She couldn't kiss him… she couldn't do anything… but she could.
Looking into his eyes, she ran her tongue across the second set of canines and the thought populated in her mind. Did she dare try that? She had never seen it done fully, but she knew the theory. The twins had spoken about it before, but did she dare test out her own possibilities?
"Malik… can you hear me?" she breathed.
He nodded, staring at her with terrified eyes as the rancid smell of his intestinal by-products flowed out of him.
"I can save you, but you won't be human anymore."
He tried to speak, but no words came out, his pain too much and she clutched him to her when his legs gave out.
"Yes or no Malik," she whispered, feeling his life draining from him.
He nodded once and she let out a slow exhale as she ran over what she knew.
Lowering herself and him to the floor, she ignored the desperate screaming sobs of the women around her and laid him out, her eyes trailing over him. She didn't have much time; he was mere minutes from death.
"You have to take in as much as you can, no stopping," she ordered, and he made an unpleasant gurgling sound.
Meeting his eyes for a moment, she lifted her wrist to her mouth and bit into it, her canines tearing the veins open with enough damage that it would take a few minutes to heal.
Digging her fingers into his jaw to get it to release from its agonised clench, she pressed her wrist to his mouth, and he shuddered, whimpering.
"Drink, idiot!" she snapped at him, and he obeyed.
Turning his head to the side, she bent over him and sank her teeth into his throat, the taste of him flooding her with the need to drain him.
Forcing it down, she drank greedily, and the sensation was incredibly odd, she had bitten so deep as to find the vein and she could feel the frantic pounding of his heart through her teeth, her own heart speeding up to match it.
Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to ignore the weirdly delicious sensation of sharing herself with him while he shared with her and the way it started a burning between her thighs. She knew then why so many vampires existed, the sexual rush of the deed was incredible, and it was all she could do not to rip his clothes off and fill herself with him.