The audacity you had, he thinks. His eyes render to narrow slits at the sheer thought of needing your touch. Such weakness is so mortal—so beyond a being like him.

How easy it would be to prove he didn't need your attention. Centuries would pass by without so much of a glance your way, lest you kneel before him and beg for his mercy.

Centuries… last a good two hours.

Two hours before he's upon you, face buried in the crook of your neck with his body pressed so desperately against your own. Any movements to pull away elicit a frustrated growl from his lips.

"I've waited long enough." He grumbles. Curses spill from him the moment his fangs graze your skin. "Accursed, and utterly shameless... I am your king, and yet you dare ignore me..."