Page 162 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

"Do not die," Emeriel whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "They're going to kill you tomorrow, and I... I cannot bear it. I refuse to believe you are as mindless as they say. I wish I could save you. I wish I could save you."

Emeriel pulled back, his face pale. The beast lowered him to his feet but did not release its hold. Emeriel did not mind.

"I know you're in there, somewhere. I just...don't know how to reach you," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow.

The beast rumbled again, its gaze slowly moving to Emeriel's neck, fixing there pointedly.

Emeriel held his breath, his heart pounding. Was that some sort of...communication?

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Helplessness mingled with desperate hope. "I wish I could understand..."

And then, he felt something else.

His blood surged through his veins, and a tingling warmth followed. Suddenly, Emeriel yearned for the beast to drink from him once more.

He tilted his head, baring the vulnerable curve of his neck. "Drink," he rasped, "Please, I want you to... to drink from me again."

It seemed the beast had been waiting for the invitation. A rough tongue lashed across his neck, followed by the sharp sting of a fang.

The beast had begun to feed.

Grand Lord Vladya stood frozen, hidden in the shadows. He watched, his hand gripping Yaz's arm. Stunned. Speechless. Unable to tear his gaze away.

After centuries of existence, filled with so many experiences both wondrous and horrific, very little could genuinely surprise him anymore.

He had borne witness to the full spectrum of the world’s nature – the beautiful heights of goodness and the abyssal depths of evil. Yet, even with a past scarred by darkness, he had never, in all his extensive life, envisioned a sight such as this.

Daemonikai had broken free to answer the boy's call. The boy'sstrangecall.

Vladya's voice caught in his throat, a strange knot of emotions twisting in his chest.

"Your Highness, did the feral beast of the grand king just... communicate with that boy?" Yaz's voice, though hushed, held a tremor that betrayed his normally unflappable demeanor.

Even in the low murmur, Vladya could detect the disbelief edging into his trusted soldier's tone.

Daemon had just saved Emeriel.Again.

His untamed, best friend hadhuggedsomeone with remarkablegentleness.

The boy was bloodfeeding a feral. Willingly.

Overwhelmed by the scene unfolding before him, Vladya struggled to process the sheer improbability of it all. His mind raced, each thought tripping over the last.

His eyes were wide with astonishment, jaw slack in awe. A lifetime of carefully cultivated composure fell apart, his mouthopening and closing soundlessly, unable to form words. He was a master of self-control, nothing truly got to him anymore, yet this...

The beast clung to the boy as it drank from him.

Its paw did not dig into the boy's skin. Instead, it delicately used a fang to draw blood from the boy's pale neck.

He knew.Somehow, the feral knew using fewer fangs while bloodfeeding in beast form would reduce the risk of harming the feeder.

Soft moans of pleasure emanated from the boy, his body writhing restlessly as the beast's elixir coursed through his veins. But, if the feral did not stop soon, it would drain the boy completely.

The boy came with a throaty whimper. Shudders rippled through his small frame. He squirmed evencloserto the beast, burrowing deeper like he wanted todisappearinto that bronze skin.

And the feral placed a hand on his back andcaressedthe boy.

"Ukrae," Yaz's voice broke the silence once more, filled with astonishment. "Your Highness, if the grand king continues, he will drain the boy."

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