Clash of the Females

Ibree:

It was my duty to feed the King. The Primale, as well as Lassiter, had asked it of me many years before when the Queen died. Feeding him had been one of life's greatest pleasures. The King was a helluva male and I couldn't help but to desire him for myself, but knew he had to get over Queen Beth's passing first. So I bided my time. I stayed in the Sanctuary so that she wouldn't go into my needing.

Tonight was different though. The Primale summoned me and I transported to the manse instantly. Normally they met in one of the spare rooms, Wrath unwilling to share his mating chambers with anyone but Beth. When I arrived, the doggen ushered me into the medical suite where I saw a female with hair the color of flames on the King's chest, trying to get him to feed. A small, rumbling growl building in my chest. That was MY duty. Whoever this other female was, was out of line. The doctor tried to talk to, what did she call her? Ah, yes. Whicked. Tried to get her to let up and allow me to help, but the growl that came from that female was booming.

Ibree's green eyes narrowed into slits as she watched another do her job for her.

Whicked:

My eyes flashed over to the Female in the white robing,  clearly a Chosen. Her eyes locked with mine as I sat crouched over the King.  She looked almost pissed at me being all over Wrath. Was I taking her place by feeding him,  probably. Did I care? Absolutely fucking not! I removed my stare from the petite blonde and nailed Jane with my cold eyes.  “Sorry...Jane. No one is feeding him but me right now. I am not moving from his side until he wakes up."

The King still showed no signs of life, but the blood that was dripping from my wrist was definitely sliding down his throat.  I looked around the room, the worry and anxiousness was palpable. Almost like a blanket weighing on everyone. Part of me didn’t want to move because just like the night at the Audience Room, I felt some sort of connection to the King,  what it was I didn’t yet know but I wanted to. Badly. The other part of me was terrified that he would die, that my blood wouldn’t be strong enough to bring him back. I knew that I should let the Chosen feed him because her blood was pure but something deep and almost possessive refused to allow me to step down.

Ibree:

My years of training as a Chosen nearly went out the window at her words. We were known for our grace and, yet, I felt very much like attacking this redhead. The only thing - well, things, actually - that kept me in place were the fact that the King was getting sustenance from her, and Lassiter's hand on my shoulder. When he arrived, I had no idea. All I knew was that without his grounding influence, I probably would have tried to rip this female's head off.

My blood was pure, stronger than her tainted blood. I bit my tongue to keep from speaking out, though, because if Wrath heard me dissing Whicked's blood, he would be pissed. His shellan had been a half breed. His son was one quarter human. Lassiter slid his hand over my mouth and pulled me back into the corner, whispering in my ear that Whicked would need me to relieve her in a bit and not to rush things. Had the angel-deity read my mind?

Whicked:

A wave of pure aggression rolled over me and I glanced over to Vishous and the blonde Male standing a little behind him next to the King’s young and the brunette Female.  But they seemed to be completely at ease while I fed Wrath. I frowned wondering where it came from, I looked over my shoulder and caught the red hot stare of the Chosen.  She looked at me as if she wanted to stick one of the Brotherhood’s Daggers deep into my chest. A smirk danced over my lips. Oh look the little Chosen is getting all territorial over her job, I matched her stare, eyes locked onto the demure Female. “Chosen,  if you have something to say, you better just say it, otherwise stow your work-related bullshit because I don’t have time for your shit, we clear?”

Ibree:

My lips peeled off my fangs at her words, a snarl released through the room. Holy … was that me? Lassiter's arms became like iron bands around my midsection and he physically picked me up and carried me out of the room. Writhing in his arms, I managed to sink my fangs into his skin. I didn't really care where, just that I caused pain. Why hadn't I ever taken up something physical? Something that would have taught me how to fight back?

"Dammit, Ibree!" Lassiter's voice rang in my ear and as his blood hit my tongue, I found myself losing consciousness. Whatever was in the angel juju was gooooooood.

Whicked:

*As the Male with the long blonde and black hair manhandled the feisty little Chosen from the room, I couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of smugness and pride that the Brotherhood was choosing to let me give the King my blood rather than the pure untainted blood of a Chosen which surely was stronger and more potent that my own.  That feeling didn’t last long though. My blood had been running small streams of blood into Wrath’s mouth for what felt like an eternity, I was growing weak. My body started to sag closer to that of the prone Male below me.

I shook my head as if trying to clear it of the heaviness that was sweeping over me,  I heard a Male groan and felt slight movement below me. But that was all I knew, I had given too much blood of my own to save the King,  damn me and my stubbornness. I should have let the Chosen take over. That was the last thought I had before I passed out.

#ClashoftheFemales