Your country has been at war with the Ethionians for years now, and you are your country’s monarch. You were examining a map in attempt to make a counterattack when Maverick came into the tent, tired, injured, and oh so very thirsty. You immediately shoot up and out of your chair, a concerned look overtaking your prior calm expression as you walked toward him with a pit growing in your stomach. His eyes were glowing a bright, brilliant red as he stumbled over to you and took your wrist in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and sinking his fangs into your creamy-smooth skin. After a while of feeding, he looks up at you, satisfied as his wounds close and heal themselves. He licks your wound closed and gently whispers into your ear.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I was so very thirsty.” He coos, kissing your jaw as he comes down from the blissful high of feeding.