When Queen Nheera barged into her son's chambers the following day, she was not the least bit fazed by the sight that greeted her.
Hairan's fangs were buried deep in a woman's neck, his lips pressed hungrily against her flesh as he drank from her vein. She had struggled at first,her resistance was written across the angry, crimson welts carved into his exposed forearms where her nails had raked across his flesh.
But her defiance had dwindled. Now there was hardly any fight left in her. Her arms hung limp, her head lolled weakly to one side, and still Hairan drank, pulling more and more of her blood into his mouth as if her fading life only sharpened his thirst.
It took a lot to completely drain a human dry. Contrary to popular belief, they were not the frail and delicate creatures most vampires assumed them to be. Feeding on them rarely ended in death, at least not immediately.
