MALIKYE demon - iromar - imprint - mate

There is a waking silence within the murk; a deep impediment of the perpetual dark. Shadows seem to cling to the surfaces before letting loose and finding themselves a new target of desire. It is as if they have a mind of their own these leaching tendrils of black. They are soundless, though sounds can be heard if one knows how to listen. They carry with them the screams of the tortured and the moans of the killers. They tell tales of battles fought and soldiers reborn from pools of blood and disintegrating bodies. They are so very loud; the black whisperers, to those who can hear them that reside within the swamp lands. But, when the demon walks by, they grow silent.

Silence falls upon the murky obscurities. A silence that only could mean one thing; death is coming. In what form that is for the other to find out for he is the creature of death. He is a vampire; drinking the blood of his very brethren and feasting upon the flesh of the unborn. He is a cannibal; desiring to feed on those that take the appearance of his very self. None are safe from this beast of murder. Only those within the lands, hidden behind his very protection are the ones allotted to be dubbed ‘úntouchable’. As for those outside of these borders, as for those who do not bear the scent of the only other who has dominion over this beast, they are not safe for he will come like he always does.

A howl disrupts the quiet.

The beast rises from the earth like a corpse lifting up from his very grave. His massive charcoal streaked form lifting easily from the ground as dirt falls from his untainted pelt. It has been awhile since he has feasted for Andras has not selected one available for the kill to satiate his dog’s hunger. Muscles ripple under his usually bloodstained coat. At each powerful stride, talons creep out to dig into mother earth’s bosom and he smiles, relishing in her nonexistent screams as he tears into the soil as he moves. Crystals remain forward, locked on to where the howl came from. Steam falls from his nostrils with each breath, saliva dripping from a slightly open mouth as jaws remain parted lazily. His teeth are stained from years of killing, as are his nails.

A scent floods his nares and he inhales the perfume like a crack addict. Eyes roll into the back of his head as he falters in his swift movements. It is seconds before he readjusts, shaking his thick skull gently and pressing forward ad his practically white eyes narrow. He is heading for the border which means that this damsel is about to be in distress. She is in no safety net, no good graces with the king nor with Malikye himself and right now, all the wraith can think is if she is fit enough to be even called a meal. Females are weak, skinny and he preferred a fight when he fed. Males, they were thick and fought hard till the end. Their death was more appealing than a vera’s.

It isn’t long till crystals come to rest upon her dark frame. He doesn’t cease in his movements as he allows his gaze to hungrily stroke her features. She was well muscled, defined and the saliva within his mouth pools, dripping to the earth and soaking the soil. Once ago he was a lustful beast, but then a different lust came over him, the lust for blood. He moves forward, large frame coming to rest at an angle from her, towards her left. He pauses, a mere half a foot from her and almost able to reach out and snap her small neck. The temptation is thrilling, his stomach daring to growl slightly only to be drowned out by his very own growl. The sound emanates within his chest, vibrating out through gritted teeth as ears flatten against his massive skull. He would not speak, would not ask foolish questions.

He will test her, waiting for her to dare voice a word while he imagined the taste of her very blood within his mouth..