“There now, isn’t that better? You see what happens when you’re a good girl?” Her master stroked her cheek and someone continued to dry her and he smiled as she pressed her face into his hand, seeking his affection. “I think you’ve learnt your lesson, haven’t you?” For a moment Emily wasn’t sure what lesson he was referring to, then she recalled the last time they tried to change her clothes, her shameful behaviour as she clawed and fought. She nodded frantically, praying he would forgive her indiscretion. “Very good. Then I see no reason why your next dreams can’t be filled of wonder. But do not cross me again, or you will find yourself forever trapped in the realm of nightmares and horrors.”
Wincing as the cuffs were re-secured, she nodded her head, her voice too raw from the terrors of her last trips to even attempt an answer. “Good girl.” Disappointment masked her gaunt features as he left her alone again, her heart fluttering as she heard him speak in a world that seemed to exist beyond her own. “Devon, this Lightning Flash has learnt her lesson, see she is appropriately rewarded.”
“Yes, sire, anything else?”
“Begin the pneumonia treatment. We will require her to be in better form. I think this Tabu will fetch a good price on the auctions. If she shows herself subservient, we could even consider removing the restraints and begin a more salubrious regime.”
“Do you think she’s ready to be moved out of here?”
“It has been a month since her last indiscretion and she is aware of what will occur should she disappoint me again.”
Chapter 5
Ashley gave a weary a smile as she offered one of the drinks from the tray to a young lady who caught her eye. With a promise to return the cup to the cafeteria, the stranger moved on, unaware of the second chance she had just been given. The scent of the hot chocolate upon the trays almost overpowered the acrid chemicals wafting from the chemistry labs she passed on her way to Cryptobiology.
Weaving her way carefully through the crowded corridor, she cringed as her uncoordinated steps caused small measures of the drinks to pool upon the polished trays. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, she slipped through the open door before it had a chance to close, depositing the trays at the front of the room, knowing everyone would help themselves. She was too tired to make the rounds.
“Oooh, biscuits!” Jack grinned, grabbing one from the tray before joining her. “What’s the occasion?”
“Sugar.” Ashley smiled. She hadn’t missed the lingering glances being cast her way by Tess and Jack. The way their brows crinkled in silent conversation confirmed she still looked as exhausted as she felt. Jack sat staring at her, the cookie motionless between his teeth as he paused in mid-bite, a faraway expression drifting across his eyes. “Jack, you okay? Jack?”
“What? Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling the intact cookie from his lips. “I just had the weirdest daydream, sealed tombs and gasoline. I’d ask what you put in them but I don’t think anything is that strong.” He gestured to the cookie, taking a bite before shuddering.
“You hadn’t even bitten it.” Tess briefly turned her gaze towards the ceiling, shaking her head in amusement, causing the two perfectly curled locks left loose from her impressive up-do to swing.
“Exactly,” he muttered around the mouthful of cookie. “Nana said I’m descended from psychics, maybe it’s a secret power,” he jested, pulling out his sketchpad and digital notebook.
“Okay, oh oracle, who’s going to come through the door next?” Tess teased.
Jack closed his eyes. “The devil!” He waved his hands, reminiscent of the flamboyant gestures of the carnival fortune tellers, yet there was something serious about his expression as he turned to the door, waiting expectantly, his hands autonomously sketching.
“A handsome devil maybe,” Tess teased lightly, nudging Ashley as Conrad entered.
The comment chased fire into her cheeks she couldn’t hide, almost making her wish she hadn’t confided her interest to her best friend. Not that she hadn’t realised for herself. Tess said she had never seen two people so obviously compatible trying so hard to keep their relationship platonic. Her words had made her realise that was exactly what she had been doing, that she didn’t want to miss out on something that could be extraordinary. She was determined to wait for him to realise what she had, that there was a pull between them that was impossible to ignore. She had waited too long. Her fantasies of what could be no longer mattered.
He circled behind them, tracing his hand across her back lightly, the gesture barely kindling a smile as she silently mourned what could never be. She attempted to hide the bitter regret that looking upon him caused. She had recently committed herself to telling him everything, and now there was no point, no reason to see if their kiss would ignite the fires promised by her dreams. His touch caused heat to rise as if her body welcomed him, and more than anything she wanted to have one kiss, one real kiss that was her own choice, and it needed to be with him, the only person who had stirred such thoughts and longings. But that couldn’t happen now. It was better she simply disappeared silently rather than creating further complications that would only make her decision more difficult.
“Are you staying behind again tonight?” he questioned, drawing his chair opposite, as had become his habit. She could see the concern in his eyes and was more than a little relieved that Tess had shown her how to cover her bruise. It was one less thing to explain.
“No, I’ve got an early shift at the home,” she lied. She had already decided not to cause her friends any more worry than was needed. Tomorrow, she planned to speak to Tess about visiting her brother. That way, when she didn’t return they would just assume she had chosen to stay closer to him. She had no intention of living as a vampire, so her only option was entombment followed swiftly by a fiery death. She already had the details planned, and her friends would be none-the-wiser. She glanced at Jack, his words about sealed tombs and gasoline weighing on her mind. There was no way he could know.
“I have to stay late tonight, but you’re welcome to borrow my bike. You have to be careful. My dad was saying another person went missing yesterday. You should try to avoid walking alone, especially since the number of Atelís is on the rise across the country.” The three friends exchanged a quick glance, not unnoticed by him. “Don’t tell me you were buying into the PB malarkey?”
“Not at all, but we didn’t think anyone else had realised its cause,” Jack interjected, before anyone could stop him.
“They tried to pass it off as PB in my last academy, too. I don’t see why anyone would fall for it. I mean, you just have to look at the tongues.” He licked his out as if in demonstration. Without pause for thought, the three of them mirrored his gesture. Ashley saw his face pale and drew her tongue in quickly, her eyes growing wide as they locked fearfully with his. She felt heat chase through her as his eyes smouldered with anger.
“You okay, Ash?” Tess questioned, seeing the sudden change in her friend’s demeanour. Flustered, Ashley moved quickly, cramming her belongings into her bag, her elbow colliding with her drink, sending its contents spilling across the tabletop. Jack produced a bundle of tissues from his pocket, frantically mopping up the expanding mess.
“I just need, I… erm… excuse me, I’m not feeling so good,” Ashley whispered, snatching up her bag as she rushed from the class.
As Jack mopped up the spilt drink, Conrad grabbed his things, hurrying after Ashley. He questioned how he could have failed to notice. All things preternatural had a scent or a pressure about them which made them easy for him to identify, but he had sensed no change in her, none at all. It hadn’t taken long for him to realise Ashley only ever wore make-up to the academy when she was exhausted. It was her way of hiding some of the more obvious signs of her fatigue. This week, she had worn it every day, but that had not been all he noticed. She had been quieter than normal, withdrawn, and now he knew why.
He could hear her footsteps in the stairwell and quickened his pace. Reaching the
landing between floors, he grasped her wrist, invoking a startled yelp as she turned to face him. There was a fear in her eyes that had no place there. She flinched from his touch, but not before his skin was enveloped with the familiar heat that came from contact, and with it came the realisation that something was very wrong.
Having moved back and forth in his mind about what he should do about his growing feelings towards her, he had decided it was safer to keep her at a distance, but that didn’t prevent his body from betraying him. His hand would reach out, tucking away a stray strand of her hair, stroking her arm, squeezing her hand, or brushing her fingers with his as she lifted a drink from his grasp at lunch. Any excuse to touch her and his body would betray his wishes and exploit it. His mind raced back to every time he had laid his hand upon her for the last few days, and with a sudden chill he realised all contact had been absent of the warmth associated with touching her, and it was only now he realised why. He hadn’t actually been touching her. Sure, it had felt like his hand had rested upon hers, that his fingers traced across her back, but the pressure was from her aura not her skin, as if it were shielding her.
His heart sank as he saw the tears streaking her face and the unmistakable hint of a bruise once concealed beneath the layer of running make-up. He placed his fingers to her face, tilting her chin to bring her gaze to his. He was trying not to display the anger burning in his core; it had no place here, she had no cause to see it.
“You’re…” She nodded, there was no reason to voice what they both already knew. “How?”
“I was attacked,” she whispered. Without a thought, Conrad felt himself take her within his arms, holding her close. She rested her head upon his chest, her voice never rising above a whisper. “I don’t think they knew what I’d been doing. It was just random.” She choked out a strangled laugh. “I always thought someone would realise and deal with me, but I… I never thought I’d be like this because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Conrad eased her back, his hands on her shoulder so he could study her face as a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His beautiful witch really did possess some magic beyond the spell she had over him.
“You’re the reason the PB figures are low, why this territory has fewer unwanted transitions. How? I mean…” He breathed in her scent again, tasting the air around her and still finding nothing. Ashley crossed an arm across herself protectively, her gaze not lifting from the floor as they resumed walking.
“I found out in high school. Me, Tess and Jack have always been close. One day, there was this air about him, sullied, wrong. He’d been jumped a few days before and they took more than his money, they made him Atelís. I don’t know why but something told me I should kiss him. A day later, his fever broke and he was back to himself, with no trace of the change. Even the bite tag had been removed. The funny thing is, no one ever remembers it was me who kissed them, except Jack. After that, the three of us decided to use what I could do to help as many people as possible.”
“That’s your bet,” he whispered in understanding, feeling more relief than he knew was appropriate. “You use it as a precursor, a dare in case you have to explain yourself.” She nodded, confirming his suspicions. “But”—he circled her, studying her throat, collar bone, wrists, all the normal places a tag would appear, but her skin was perfect, unblemished—“I don’t see a bite.” He studied her shoulders, once more noticing how she recoiled against his touch.
“It’s not there,” she whispered, and he saw her eyelids droop towards the floor, the tears threatening to spill from her heavy eyelashes, and he understood.
“Come home with me, now,” he commanded, growling as he grasped her hand and led the way, leaving no room for argument, no chance for her to object, and to his relief she simply followed. He didn’t trust himself to say any more. His temperature was rising, his blood boiling as his other-self demanded justice, vengeance, and blood. He would hunt down anyone who had laid a hand on her and deliver them personally to hell.
Conrad had thought many times about bringing Ashley to his home to meet his parents, but never in any of his imaginary scenarios had it been for this reason. His parents didn’t harbour the same caution about what they were as he did, and he knew under normal circumstances he couldn’t have risked bringing her here, not before telling her the truth of his origins. But none of that mattered now.
He had spoken to them about Ashley covertly, probing to discover if there was any way a human and one of their kind could become anything more than friends. He had seen the pain in his mother’s eyes as she broke the news to him. In all their history, never had one of their kind been able to partner safely with a human, or many of the preternatural species. His love would destroy her. It ran too hot, too deep for something so frail to survive. They had told him, for both their sakes, that he should turn his focus to creatures of a sturdier composition.
Ashley had hopped on the back of his bike without reservation, sliding the spare helmet on and pressing herself against him in such a way that, had this been any other day, any other situation, he would have taken the long road home just to spend a few more moments so close to her. He imagined his presence offering her strength and warmth, reassurance that whoever wronged her would be destroyed, and purged from existence. As if sensing these powerful feelings of protection, she seemed to relax, leaning closer, holding him tighter, and all too soon the mechanical clanking of the gate’s gears were opening.
The home they lived in was amazing. Even now, he loved the remote isolation he felt from the large walls barricading their own little corner of the world from trespassers. The grounds were maintained by a gardener, who kept the main paths and gardens pristine and manicured, while the raw force of nature could be witnessed in every direction beyond their home.
The farmhouse mansion had come complete with wraparound porches and swinging seat to the rear. The two forward-facing gable windows were eye-catching features, rarely visible in the houses he had seen around the city. It offered a unique flair to the property, and the large windows allowed ample light to stream inside. He thrust his key into the lock, surprised to find his mother in the hallway, papers in hand.
“I didn’t expect you home until—” His mother’s face instantly morphed from concern into a welcoming smile. “Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Selene, Conrad’s mother.”
“This is Ashley, I’ve spoken to you about her.” He hoped she would get the hint and keep at least part of their life private. “She needs your help.”
“Of course, come in, come in. What can I do for you?”
Once the door was closed, he saw Ashley hanging back awkwardly. His hand slid into hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he led her inside. Unsure exactly what to say, where to start, Conrad launched straight into an explanation.
“Mum, you know how you came here to study the statistical phenomenon relating to PB and unwanted transitions?”
“Well yes, dear, that and—”
“She’s the reason—or was, before she was attacked.” His nostrils flared as he tried to suppress his rage, drawing comfort from the pressure of her hand within his. “Ashley”—he turned to look at her, meeting her eyes as he spoke—“please, you can trust us. We would never let anyone uncover what we know. Let my mother examine you, she’s a specialist in preternatural genealogy and has experience in… you know, trauma.” He watched his mother’s eyes mist as she understood what he was saying.
“Your father’s working from home today, too. Conrad, go help him in the kitchen, tell him to set some extra places.” Her gaze dropped briefly to his hand that was still intertwined with Ashley’s. It was then he noticed he’d stepped before her, shielding her from the discomfort he felt radiating from her. “Go on.” She waved him away as she placed her hand gently on the small of Ashley’s back, encouraging her towards the door leading downstairs into her work space.
Conra
d stood behind the door, his forehead resting against the wood separating them as he imagined her tearful eyes. Whoever had forced her to shed those tears would pay for each and every one in blood and pain. He froze, his hand raised to knock as another thought assailed him. He had seen the tears streaking her cheeks; why hadn’t he thought to mention it? When someone became an Atelís, they lost the ability to cry. It was one of the first symptoms, not as recognisable as the altering shape of the tongue, but a symptom nonetheless.
Lowering his arm, he turned. His mother would have noticed. With an enraged growl, he stalked away, feeling the fury building within him. His kind were known for their righteous rage, the need to bring justice. He tried to focus his gaze upon the kitchen, to channel his attention elsewhere, but it was hopeless. The pressure building within him was unbearable, like no other need he had felt before. Pulling a stool from beneath the central island, he focused on his breathing, aware of the sheer heat being forced from his body. His gaze burned into the polished black granite counters, focusing on the smallest fleck. Breathe in, breathe out, an exercise he repeated for several minutes. When he felt more in control, he lifted his gaze to the outer parts of the enormous kitchen, where his father stood watching him, a look of concern deepening the wrinkles on his brow.
“What’s happened? You smell wronged.” He could tell from the way his father assessed him with a look of concern in his hazel eyes, that he had not yet managed the level of control he needed.
“I’ve brought a friend home,” he muttered.
“Am I laying an extra place?”
Conrad nodded, watching as his father swept the dark brown hair from his eyes with the back of his wrist, clearly fighting back further questions. He wasn’t sure what his father had seen, but it was unlike him to be so quiet.
Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) Page 7
