He swiped his fingers over the flowing streaks of her precious red nectar and bringing them to his lips, he tasted it. His eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the out-of-this-world taste. No elven blood had the exquisite flavour her blood held.
"Get your hands off me," Aselia's screeched, feeling disgusted by his actions. There was no fear in those daunting orbs of hers. His eyes flew open and he almost chuckled at her boldness, there was no fear.
"I understand now why my son fancies you so much," Phantom removed his hand from her neck.
"Your son?" Aselia was piecing together the puzzle but she wanted to be sure.
"Xiran! I am his father," he leaned back in his chair and relaxed, enjoying her reactions with a satisfied smile.
"I don't know your son, why don't all of you understand that?" So this was the renowned and feared Phantom who was responsible for the genocide of elves. He scoffed at her answer, a malicious glint passed in his eyes as he mocked:
