Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1)

by Kathryn Jayne

  He wished he could have come earlier, but he hadn’t known then what he did now. He had thought she’d be at work. Another lie. He, Tess, and Jack had watched a movie as planned. They had enjoyed a relaxing evening together and, with them parting ways so close to the time Ashley was due to finish, he had decided to surprise her and walk her home. It would have given them plenty of opportunity to discuss what was really going on.

  He had stood under the nursing home’s eaves for half an hour, sheltering from the rain, when the matron had stepped outside, asking if he was in need of assistance. It was only then he discovered Ashley had still not been cleared for work. With his stomach churning and heart pounding, he sprinted to her home. He needed answers and he didn’t care if he had to drag her out of bed to get them. That mark had been distinctive. There was no denying the Y-shaped wound tied in with bloodletting, and yet Will’s story sat uneasily, because he knew Ashley would never risk doing something so stupid. Not after what his mother had told them.

  When she had opened the door, his heart had stopped. Her eyes were red from tears, their almost black shade of grey stirring his own sorrow. All his fear, all his concerns and questions, were pushed aside the moment he saw her, and the only thing that had mattered, the most important thing in the world, became holding her and making her feel safe. He didn’t know how long he had stood there, grasping her firmly, enveloping her in his protection while his soaked clothes left a pool of water on the floor. He would have stood there all night, clinging to her as desperately as she did to him, but as her sobs calmed he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the sofa before wrapping the blanket that hung across the back of the beaten leather chair around her. When she calmed, he lifted his arm from around her shoulders, hunting his way around the kitchen in order to make her a warm drink.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered between sniffles. As he placed the cup down he felt her trembling hand grasp his wrist, almost as if she was worried he would leave. The welling tears in her eyes caused his chest to ache to the point where he found himself subconsciously rubbing it. When he found out who had caused her to shed these tears, there wouldn’t be enough left of them to identify. He would tear them apart. It was a few moments before he trusted himself to talk.

  “Does this have anything to do with what we saw at lunch?” he ventured. She nodded, her rust-coloured locks falling to hide her profile from his view. Stooping, he tucked her hair behind her ears, his hand cradling her cheeks as his thumbs wiped away the escaping tears. “Can you tell me about it?” She shook her head, her eyes shifting to look anywhere but upon him. “If I took you home, would you feel safe enough to tell me about it then?”

  Her nod spurred a flurry of action. Pulling out his device he requested a cab, his vision panning the room until it fell upon the backpack she had left abandoned just inside the door. With a reassuring smile—he internally prayed it did not look like the snarl it felt like—he rushed upstairs to pack whatever she might need for an overnight stay. He stared at her laundry basket, filled with clean clothes next to her bedroom drawers and grabbed a few items before throwing in anything else he thought she might need. If he forgot something, he was sure his mother would be more than happy to lend it to her. His sole focus became getting her out of this house as quickly as possible and uncovering where he needed to direct his building rage.

  Conrad cradled her arm tenderly. Now that he’d applied some anti-inflammatory ointment and cleaned the wound at her elbow, he could see many criss-crossing silver scars. When she’d lifted her nightdress to reveal the latest one, she flinched as he growled, his hands trembling so much it took him three attempts to remove the ointment lid.

  “Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?” Conrad seethed, his finger examining the wound on her leg, noticing how it had sealed. He heard the protesting groan of wood as he realised his other hand gripped the chair’s leg, and he attempted to slacken his grasp. What he didn’t understand was why this monster was toying with her. The wounds had been healed, and yet the irritation on her arm confused him.

  Vampires used saliva to seal their victims’ injuries. Often the regenerative power meant no scars or marks were left. Yet this man—who had apparently saved her in the park as well—always left scars. He couldn’t tell if it was his way of marking her, ensuring she remembered him in some twisted form of torture, or if there was something else going on that he wasn’t quite seeing. There was no reason she should be scarred so badly, or have any reaction to the use of siphons, if he was sealing the wounds afterwards. Another question that bothered him was why this vampire was using this method to extract her blood when he obviously craved the intimacy.

  The chair cracked again, a reminder for him to take a deep breath. “People like him never stop, not once they know you’ll give in to them. He’ll just take more and more liberties. Ashley, you should have said something.”

  “Why? It’s not like it would make a difference. He knows about me, he knows everything.”

  “I could protect you.”

  Grasping her hand, he searched her eyes, wondering if she even realised there was not a risk he wouldn’t take or a sacrifice he wouldn’t make for her. He would protect her with every ounce of his being, every gram of his power. If she would let him, he would make sure no one ever hurt her again. He would make her strong, teach her all he knew. She would be able to stand alone, and yet he would always protect her; not because she was weak, but because without her he would be nothing.

  He dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling his desire building. He could lie to himself no longer, he loved her, he wanted her for his own, but fate was cruel, it mocked him. He loved her so much, yet he knew anything beyond friendship would be impossible as he would not be able to suppress his need, his desire, enough to keep her safe. She was everything to him, and he could never forgive anyone who brought her harm, especially if that someone ended up being him.

  “From a vampire that’s who knows how old, who has measures in place to ensure my cooperation? I can’t even fend off his thrall.”

  “Thrall? What did he…”

  “Nothing. He wanted to make sure I knew he owned me.”

  “He does not own you.” She flinched at the venom in his voice. He could feel the molten fury of his other-self begging for release. She had been wronged and, as an ifrit, he was not only aware of it, but was duty-bound to execute justice.

  “He does. It’s not just the thrall, or him knowing what I did. He knows about my friends. He said if I don’t give him what he wants…” she shook her head, “and he knows about you, how I…” She trailed off but it was impossible not to notice the flushing of her cheeks.

  “I won’t deny he has us at an advantage,” Conrad mused. “That doesn’t mean we can’t track him down. You said he uses syphons instead of biting. That means he has access to a Taphouse, or a supplier, and he knows about your personal life, so he probably attends or maybe teaches at the academy. Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything that stood out?”

  She began to shake her head, pausing as a frown creased her brow. “It sounds silly, but I keep thinking I should know him. It’s hard to explain, but when I look in his eyes I feel like I’ve done it before, and he has this way of putting his hands on my shoulder… it’s hard to explain.”

  “I’m going to start looking into it. Why don’t you take the guest room, get some sleep. You know you’ll be safe here, right?”

  She gave a small nod. “Conrad, this is bad, isn’t it?” she whispered, accepting the hand he had offered to help her stand. He was reluctant to release her, his fingers disobeying his wish to pull away for longer than they should have.

  “I think if he were going to tell someone he would have done so by now.” He led her to the guest room, pausing at the solid oak door awkwardly as he bid her goodnight. As he turned to leave, she reached out and the way her fingers caressed his arm stirred a shudder from his core. She was making this impossible.

  “Will you
stay with me, please? I don’t want to be alone.” Her witch eyes held him under her spell, rekindling the desire he fought so hard to dispel. She stepped closer, erasing what little distance there had been between them. The floorboards creaked as she lifted herself onto her tiptoes, her hands sliding behind his neck, setting his skin aflame. It would have been so easy to steal the kiss he so desperately craved. All he needed to do was to stay still. But he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted to protect her, not destroy her.

  Her presence was like a drug, and he knew if he surrendered, if he allowed her soft lips to rest upon his own for even a moment, he would be ruined. It took all of his resolve to resist her, to turn his head aside and step away. Hurt and confusion flickered through her eyes as she looked at him questioningly. He saw the pain his rejection caused and closed his eyes. She would never understand. She was his world and to kiss her now would be to one day watch her burn. Few other beings could truly withstand the true power and passion of an ifrit, and there was one thing he knew for certain, regardless of her new preternatural status, and that was the fact that she was neither an ifrīt, or incorporeal. Anything between them would be disastrous. The way her heavy lashes dropped her gaze towards the floor ensured he regretted his refusal. The way his heart and mind fought caused him to seek a compromise.

  “We could always watch a film until you’re ready to sleep.”

  Emily could hear the struggle, the loud scraping of the metal-framed bed against the concrete floor, and knew the newest Tabu was awake. One of the dream-weavers—as she called them—had left him just moments ago, leaving them alone again. She tried to call to him, to tell him that if he was still, if he was good, they would treat him well, and remove him from the darkened prison to a place filled with light where he would be looked after. Since she knew better than to raise her voice above a soft whisper, she doubted he could hear her. She wondered if anyone had tried to tell her the same when she had been in his position.

  A thunderous crash reverberated in her ears, the deafening sound causing her heart to hammer in her chest. Pushing herself up slightly, she peered towards her old cell, watching in horror as a form crawled from the darkness. She raised her arm, trying to gesture him back.

  The way the light glistened on his dark, matted hair as he crawled spoke of his fever. She cringed as she heard another noise, the grating of a broken chain scraping across the floor, getting louder the closer he came. She whispered a warning, telling him to return to his room, to be good, but he kept coming, the noise getting louder, closer, until she could smell the offensive odour of his perspiration and turned her head away, hoping his actions wouldn’t cause the master to be angry with her.

  “H-H-Hold still, I’ll have y-y-you out soon,” rasped the voice through chattering teeth. His movements were uncoordinated, as if his limbs were too heavy to be properly controlled. Closing her eyes, she lay still, hoping if she ignored him he would go away, but the tugging at her ankle, accompanied by the damp grasp of his trembling, clammy hand, betrayed his continued presence.

  Opening one of her eyes, she peeked towards him, watching beads of sweat dripping from his jaw while his hand jerked during his uncoordinated attempts to push a needle into the manacle around her ankle. She hadn’t given her bindings much thought, but had watched them being removed enough times to understand what he was attempting. She could see the crimson fluids on the needle’s tip as it jolted from side to side with each of his attempts to push it into the place where the magnetic pin sealed her restraint in place. The trail of blood from his arm began to stain her bed, spreading out across the soft sheet she had recently been given. She gathered it protectively around her before casting a glance to her arm and confirming her own needle was still safely inserted.

  His frown deepened as he tried again to drive it into the shackle. This time, despite the unsteadiness of his limbs, he was rewarded with true aim. When she heard the pin drop, she realised the familiar weight on her leg was gone. “C-C-C-Come on,” he stuttered breathlessly.

  Emily stared at him in dismay before turning away, not daring to look in his eyes for a moment longer. His dilated pupils made him look possessed, like a demon in the flesh. He was trying to tempt her, to make her disobey the master. But she knew better.

  He grasped her arm, audibly swallowing back whatever fluids had given his breath the sour, acidic stench of decay. “C-C-C-Come on.” He tugged at her, yet she refused to budge, refused to be part of his rebellion. The master was good to her, he looked after her, helped her get well, and saw she had wondrous dreams instead of haunting nightmares from which there was no escape. She would not jeopardise what she had.

  Emily heard her sigh of relief as he finally gave up. Using her bed to pull himself to his feet, he staggered over towards the solid wall. Orange vomit sprayed from his mouth as he rested, panting as his tremors become visibly worse. She watched as he staggered a few more steps in the direction of the exit holding a distant staircase. He had made it only a few more steps when his eyes rolled backwards into his skull and he struck the floor, his body racked with spasms as vomit bubbled from his mouth. After a few moments he was still. Turning over, Emily tried to put him from her mind, pulling her blanket back around herself as she curled up and attempted to sleep.

  “That’s the second OD this week.” Emily startled as she heard Devon’s annoyed voice. She turned over to see him and another figure hunched over the body.

  “You know not everyone is cut out to be a Tabu. They can’t all be like our little Lightning Flash here.” The figure saw her watching them and winked, his compliment bringing a smile to her lips.

  “Take him to the ghouls. They always enjoy a good O.D.” Devon’s vision turned towards her, noticing the loose chains on the floor.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want him to, Mister Devon, I promise,” she whispered, fear turning her skin cold at the thought he would blame her.

  “Don’t you worry, the master sees all. He was so proud of you. He says you’re ready for a new home, a place with your own room, and a comfortable bed. He’s making arrangements as we speak.”

  “The master doesn’t want me any more? Did I do something wrong?” She felt the tears track down her cheek. “I’ve been good. I didn’t want him to come near me. Please, I can be better.”

  “It’s not a punishment, the master is rewarding you,” Devon responded. He stooped down, lifting the shackle, giving her a smile as she presented her foot without being asked.

  Chapter 10

  Will entered the cafeteria, his gaze searching each crowd for Ashley. He had lingered outside her Cryptobiology class, keeping just out of sight, waiting for her, but she had been nowhere to be seen. Neither had Conrad, which had annoyed him no end. He knew it would have been impossible to overlook her, she was like a beacon to him, more so now than ever before. He licked his lips, his thoughts lingering on the kiss. The warmth of her lips on his was everything he had ever imagined it would be. In time, he was certain he could divert her affections and, if not, he could use the healer’s voice on her again.

  It was only since partaking of her blood that he had discovered this new ability. His grandmother’s handwritten texts said it was common for a healer to possess a thrall-like quality in order to better calm and aid those in need, and to encourage people out of a dangerous situation. It had many applications, including a hypnotic effect. He hadn’t meant to use it on her last night. He still remembered his own surprise as her hand went to her gown, unfastening it. At first, he had eagerly misinterpreted it as an invitation. Despite what he was doing, he thought his kindness, his easy conversation had won her over. After all, she seemed to like a bad boy if her history was anything to go by. It was only when she tensed at his touch that he realised what had happened. He had masked his disappointment well. If she wouldn’t warm to him of her own accord, then he could use his new-found talent to possess her in other ways.

  Since last night, he had been experimenting. It seemed his healer’s voice o
nly worked for short times, and outside his aura of influence the effect was rendered useless. He wondered if he could find a means to extend it, to plant a thought within her mind that would grow each time he nurtured it.

  “Well, if it isn’t Liam7.” A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. It belonged to a voice he would never forget. Devon. “I must say you surprised us last night.” The wicked grin turning the corners of Devon’s lips made him falter and, shrugging from the vampire’s touch, he took a moment to compose himself, passing his hand through his golden hair. He would have tried his influence again, but he and Devon had matters to attend to.

  “New diet.” He shrugged, dipping his hand into his jacket pocket to remove his device. “I was looking for you. I want to settle the loan.”

  “I guess business was profitable last night.” Devon’s arm snaked around his shoulders as he inhaled. “You still smell delicious. Tell me, does this new diet have a name?”

  Will once more shrugged free of his touch, lifting his device, hoping to return to the business at hand. “I-I told you. It’s a new diet, detox.”

  He hoped the heat coursing through him wasn’t betraying his lie. His heart sped as a consequence he hadn’t even considered reared its ugly head. The Taphouses issued their own aliases for privacy reason, to ensure things such as this didn’t happen, but Devon knew him, he’d been the one to introduce him to the establishment as a way of making payments in the first place. All at once he was relieved Ashley wasn’t here. If Devon could still smell the effects of her blood on him, surely he’d have no problem tracking it back to the source.