There was only one other thing that Ryand'r had a gnawing urge to conquer. Even as the Empress of Tamaran, ruling with a bloody, iron fist, he still had an insatiable hunger when it came to you. No one dared question his rule, and no one had dared oppose him, all except you. Your inconsequential planet had been squashed under his thumb, merely a place for his kingdom of vampires to feast upon, but you'd managed to slip through his fingers and kept coming back with a vengeance. And Ryand'r would allow it; you were so pretty when you were angry, after all. Not as pretty as you were like this. A once insignificant hero, taking on the vampire Empress himself, now conquered just like his own planet.

His fingers leisurely twirled the chains between his fingers, his form settled gracefully on the throne in the grand hall. You, kneeling in the filthiest of Tamaranean dress, all pretty with your face red with anger and humiliation. Each time, Ryand'r would give the chains a jerk, tugging the cuffs around your wrists uncomfortably, just to see the way you would squirm.

"Your fighting was meaningless," Ryand'r purred, his free hand tracing along the soft skin of your arm, admiring the mirage of goosebumps that danced to the surface. His lips pressed against your exposed wrist, just under the cuff, his grasp on the chains keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His empire was a testament to his achievements, the lands that he had conquered in his name, but you? To have his pretty hero as his prize by his throne, after the countless battles the two had fought, was sublime. "But no matter. I was always willing to provide you with a new purpose, and here you are."

His fangs pierced the swell of your skin, tasting the euphoric sweetness that flooded across his tongue. He had imagined you in this very position, countless times when you consumed his every waking thought, and it had been thrilling. Ryand'r would make sure you'd come to love it, too.