Flipping through the pages, he saw as many vague and bizarre images as he did ones he could identify. He stared at the tombs and gasoline for a moment, before flicking forward to a moonlight sketch of the bandstand, with a figure lying on the steps. This he now recognised as a scene from Ashley’s attack. If he had realised sooner what it was trying to tell him, perhaps he could have warned her… changed the future. He flicked through the many images, returning to the sketch of the kitchen, his finger tapping on the page as he wondered exactly what he could say to Ashley. She knew better than to open her door to strangers, so perhaps he was seeing it wrong, perhaps it was showing him a friend coming to visit. But if that were the case, he was unsure why looking at it made him feel so uneasy. Next time he saw her, he would speak with her, although he had no idea exactly what to say.
Will sat in the small waiting room at the Taphouse. Tonight was unusually busy. There were two others who had arrived before him, and a few younger teens, smelling of alcohol, had stumbled in after he had taken his seat. He would never dream of coming here without his faculties in check, but apparently they had special codes for donors whose blood contained additional substances. He eyed the people before him, wondering if he had seen them here before, nodding his head politely when they looked in his direction.
“Liam7, we’re ready for your screening,” called Whitney’s familiar voice from the door. As her gaze fell upon him, her smile seemed to brighten and she raised her hand, beckoning him through. “Take a seat. You know the drill, I have to make sure you’re healthy.”
Pushing a hand through his tousled hair, he took a seat in the cushioned leather chair inside the booth and produced his index finger, flinching when the small pin pieced his flesh.
“Let’s see.” A drop of blood pooled from the pinprick on his finger before being absorbed into the tab attached to the handheld device. “Hmm, count’s good,” She glanced up at him with an unusual expression. “I didn’t think you’d be donor-ready for a few weeks yet. Okay, let me just remove the Tapped-out status.” She glanced up again. “You know, your recovery skills are remark—” She stopped abruptly, looking at the device in her hand. Removing the tab, she placed a clean one in, repeating the drop test. “Huh.”
“What is it?” Will stiffened as her eyebrows furrowed.
“MA+MI74. I don’t know what your new regime is but I’ve not seen a blood purity this high for a long time.”
Will looked up, his own expression mirroring her disbelief. Since he had first started letting here, he had been a consistent sixty, so to have a reading of seventy-four seemed unbelievable. It was no wonder she had rerun the test.
“If you want to continue with the donation, you’ll be in a different banding than normal.” She checked her device again, reading the information from her screen. “Let’s see. For this, you are entitled to a twenty-five percent share of sales, but the banding is premium. If I list you, you’re likely to be tapped-out by the night’s finish unless you set a limit. Payment will have to be made via a transfer.”
“Really? I thought you only did transfers for amounts exceeding—”
“That’s correct.” She nodded. Her hand traced down his arm as his mouth hung open for a minute while he tried to find the right words.
“I think I need to sit down,” he gasped.
“You are sitting.” Whitney’s laughter was like the chiming of a fine bell, delicate and musical. Its harmonious sound seemed to return him to his senses and he straightened in his seat. “So, shall I list you? If you get Tapped-out in a single night, you’re going to feel rotten. I could still put a limit on, you know, to make sure you stop before you get the shakes.”
He watched the young woman’s finger trace across the small spot of blood from his finger, her own eyes igniting as it touched her tongue. He knew she was a preternatural; after all, it had been Whitney herself who had first suggested the sampling of other preternatural blood in order to gain a temporary stat boon. She had worked here for a while now, and since she always found time to talk to him, she knew exactly why he was doing this, and her advice had helped to raise his figures from fifty-eight into the next banding bracket, meaning he took home a slightly higher percentage of sales.
“Not tonight, I really need the money.”
“Is Devon’s clan still hassling you for protection money?” Whitney stroked his arm gently before giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“I couldn’t let things carry on. It would have destroyed Gran to lose the shop. She thinks of it as the last piece of my dad.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d be more hurt to lose you. Just be careful, okay?” She held his gaze for a moment, almost as if she wanted to say something more but then thought better of it. Her vision returned to the device in her hand. “You’re about to go live, you may want to get comfortable. Have you linked to our system?” she questioned, pulling on her gloves and breaking open a container filled with syphons. He nodded. “Great. Lean back, enjoy some movies or whatever takes your fancy. Tonight, all entertainment is on the house.”
“Seriously?” he questioned incredulously, straightening as the first syphon was placed on his skin. “Everything is free for purity of seventy and above. It’s an incentive to come back.”
By the time she was finished, five of the little creatures lined his left arm and were already swelling with his blood. Each one would consume 7.5 mls—the measure of a tablespoon—then disengage to fall into the tray that slotted just underneath the cushioned area of the specially designed armrest. As the bite wound was still open, a designated server would be on hand to attach another to the same position. This way, the donors would only suffer minor markings, which healed into small silver scars that eventually faded with time.
Whitney had been serious when she had advised he would garner a lot of interest. No sooner had a syphon disengaged than it was served to the next customer. Looking at the projected display from his device, he could see the back order. It seemed he had, as predicted, caused quite a stir of excitement. Within the hour, he was attached to more syphons than he had ever seen, and for the first time was donating with both arms, which had long gone numb. Whitney applied a cold compress to the bruising that occurred from prolonged exposure to the syphons, but he was past the point of feeling its relief. He offered her a smile, pleased it was she who had been assigned to him. Given the demand and his willingness to give until he was Tapped-out, management had insisted he had someone with him at all times to keep a constant vigil on his blood count and state of mind. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying her company. She was so easy to like.
“That makes a pint,” Whitney stated, updating the record as the seventy-fifth syphon disengaged. A server entered, retrieving the deposited creatures with a quick smile. Normally, when he donated, Will opted for a twenty syphon limit, which would allow him to return on other nights and in the long run ensure he was able to give more donations per month and, when every penny mattered, even four extra syphons made a difference. “Your count’s still good. Do you want to carry on, or call it a night?” He glanced at his tally, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as he saw the figure of his sales.
“How many more can I do?”
“Another twenty-five would take you to our maximum donation level,” she advised, refreshing the compress. It was so cold his skin had turned red, and yet to him, he still felt the heavy numbness of his limbs.
“Do that then.” He smiled at his earnings, knowing he could not only pay off the rest of the year’s loan, but be in good standing for next year. He didn’t even feel a wave of guilt as he planned his next visit to Ashley’s house. If one syphon of her blood could boost his purity and count this much, he could earn a living on letting alone. Especially since he had been expended before partaking. The fact she thought Liam to be a vampire would only serve to ensure she didn’t get too close to realising who he was. Although he swore he had seen recognition in her eyes. On some level, especially
given her reaction to his touch earlier, he was certain she knew it was him.
“That’s it for tonight, Will,” Whitney announced, wrapping his arms in the cool, healing salve compress that encouraged the wounds to close, before bringing him a sugary drink. “You know the drill—drink, eat, rest. Before that though, can you sign the transfer consent?”
With great difficulty, Will raised his arm, pressing his thumb to her device and an instant alert from his own notified him of his inflated bank balance. He leaned back with a satisfied smile, allowing his head to rest upon the cushioned support, all his former feelings of guilt now but a speck on the distant horizon.
Ashley felt the tears burning her eyes as she heard the familiar rapping on her back door. Each gentle tap felt like a physical blow. Liam had made a habit of calling on her in the evening, somehow seeming to know the instant she had finished her shower. Grabbing her housecoat, she slipped it on. He had already made it clear he didn’t like to be kept waiting.
She felt his eyes rake over her, causing her to tighten her gown subconsciously. Stepping inside, he walked past as if he owned the place, and pulled the stool out in a gesture that, in any other circumstances, may have seemed gentlemanly. With a flourish of his arms, he motioned for her to take the regular seat at the breakfast bar. But as she approached and her gaze cast toward the tiled floor, he grasped her wrist, pulling her body toward him, his lips pressing against hers reminding her, once again, that he was in control. She stepped back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she turned away.
“I prefer you without the gown,” he whispered, licking his lips. Ashley felt his words echo around her ears, aware her hands were moving of her own accord to unfasten the cord. He stepped closer to her and a look resembling surprise flashed briefly in his eyes, almost unnoticeable before his hands seized hers as he took over. “Tonight, I want something a little different.”
Moving behind her, she stiffened as his hands traced up her body to the neckline, pulling the silk robe down until the soft rustle of fabric against the floor could be heard. “Never forget I own you. You’re mine,” he whispered, pulling her close, brushing his lips across her neck as his fingers traced the lace pattern of her bra. He seemed to hesitate before removing his hands.
Ashley felt herself shudder, fearing what he had in mind. He had never used his thrall on her before, and the fact he did so tonight terrified her. She didn’t want this to be how she remembered her first time, trapped in the clutches of a blood-thirsty monster.
“Sit,” he whispered, his eyes once more surveying her as she moved without hesitation to obey his command. She felt the silk of her gown wrap around her shoulders, accompanied by a series of feather-light kisses across her neck. Her thoughts were flooded with new images, of his fangs tearing into her before he latched on, suckling directly from her. She had heard tales that it was a sought-after experience, that a bite was like an aphrodisiac, robbing its victim of all senses, but that was not how she remembered feeling in the park, and she very much doubted this would be any more pleasant. A sensual moan vibrated on his lips against her flesh, causing her to flinch. She felt his soft hand grasp her neck, pulling her back, exerting his control.
“Don’t,” she whispered breathlessly, feeling his other hand begin to trace up the jagged scar on her leg. She never thought it would be possible to relax when a syphon was placed upon her; not until she felt its damp presence on her thigh and his hand withdrew. Pulling her arms back through the gown, she tugged it closed, breathing a shaky sigh of relief. His hands returned to her shoulders, and she was thankful his unwelcome affections did not resume.
When the painstaking ordeal was over, he placed his lips to the free-flowing blood at her thigh, licking softly while his eyes looked up at her longingly. As he pulled away, she saw the wound had, as it had done before, healed.
“Kiss me,” he whispered in her ear as she stood. “Kiss me like you would if I were Conrad.”
Despite her attempt to resist, she saw his need as he looked down on her with fire and passion in his eyes. Her hands reluctantly lifted, tangling within his tousled hair as she pulled him close. She could feel the smile on his lips as they met hers with hunger, his hands moving over her greedily as he crushed their lips together.
He pulled back as if to savour the moment. “Until next time.” He smirked, his gaze once more tracing her every contour. She looked down, fumbling to fasten the nightgown’s cord. By the time she looked up again, he was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 9
An unease had settled over her since Liam had left. Her trembling fingers checked the locks on the back door for what was easily the tenth time. Still locked, she assured herself. Yelping, she turned her gaze to the window as it rattled, relieved to see the overgrown privet scraping its branches across the pane. Her fingers went back to the lock, berating herself. She needed to be stronger than this but home no longer felt safe. He had sullied it, invaded her space and bent her to his whim. She knew vampires possessed a hypnotic thrall, but she had never expected it to be so dominating. She had tried to resist, to command her body to obey her own demands, but it had betrayed her. She was at his mercy, and with each visit he became a little more brazen, a little more possessive.
He had never used his thrall before, nor had he touched her the way he had tonight. Her mind circled, replaying the evening, recapturing the paralysis, the control, her weakness. Tonight he had been brazen, proving she was his to command. Clenching her fist, she glared to the darkness beyond the rain-streaked windows before focusing on her own reflection, determination setting her jaw. Just because they had an arrangement didn’t mean she should let him hold power over the rest of her life. She’d be damned if she let that monster suck all the joy from her. Her agreement with him was one of necessity, but she was determined to file it away in the back of her mind and continue on, dealing with him only when necessary.
Ashley had been staring out into the jungle of a garden, wondering if she was still being watched, when a tickle of electricity charged the air around her just seconds before Conrad’s sharp rapping sounded on her front door. She knew instantly who it would be. His presence always sung to her even before he came into sight. It was almost as though just being near him energised her, and burnt away all her problems. She thought back to that hateful kiss. Liam had seemed to savour it, but the only thing it had stirred within her had been the realisation of how much she longed to be held in Conrad’s embrace, to feel his lips, the only ones she would welcome, upon her.
“Ashley, I know you’re home.” She shivered slightly. Nothing could rob her of the appreciation of how her name sounded as it rolled from his tongue. “Open up.”
Flicking the kettle on, she shuffled towards the door. Rain hammered down outside, pouring from the blocked drain, sending a torrent of water drumming on the darkened paving.
There, in the dark, leaning breathlessly against the door frame, stood Conrad. Relief and fear mingled within her as she saw his intense gaze staring up at her through his dripping wet hair. His chest heaved, sending small billows of condensation from his lips into the rain. Rivulets of rain streaked his every inch, causing his t-shirt to cling to him. How she envied the t-shirt, wishing she could be that close.
He stepped inside, his faded jeans so tight that, now they were wet, they would need to be peeled off. She licked her lips, caught up in her relief at seeing him, allowing herself just one brief moment of indulgence as she imagined she would be the one to remove them. That was how a first time should be, wrapped in the embrace of someone you loved, someone who you could almost not breathe without. Not at the whim of a stranger who thought she was his property to play with as he saw fit. She had seen it in Liam’s eyes tonight, the desire, and it scared her more than she could ever hope to express. She had seen Conrad looked at her with the same intensity, but when their gaze met, all she ever wanted to do was melt into his embrace and leave the world behind.
He pushed the door closed,
and she braced herself for what was to come, but instead of harsh words she felt herself being pulled forwards, his arms wrapping around her with such firm pressure it stole her breath. Closing her eyes, she melted into his embrace, the sound of his heart, the warmth of his embrace, almost too much to bear. She pressed herself closer, seeking more of his heat, more of the protection his presence seemed to wrap around her. The cold wind howled through the house, its chill lost in the warmth of his arms, but then another thought surfaced. What if Liam was still outside, watching? What if he had witnessed her clinging onto this man with such desperate need?
A shiver ran through her as she recalled his words, ‘Kiss me like you would if I were Conrad.’ He knew about Conrad! Fear stole her breath, her throat swelling with terror. He knew too much, far too much about her, about everything she held dear. He had already threatened Tess if she didn’t cooperate, saying she would be found in possession of the exam papers from the tests she had aced. She would be shamed to the extent no one would think her sudden disappearance was unexpected. He was leveraging her friends against her, and even without his thrall she knew she would do whatever he asked. She would not risk them. But now he was showing her just how little control she really had. What would he do to Conrad, to her, if he understood how much she needed him, how he was her strength? If anything happened to him because of her—
“Hey, shh,” she heard Conrad whisper into her hair. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” It was only then she realised she was sobbing. Not just crying, but wailing in his arms.
Conrad placed the warm drink before Ashley as she sat on the sofa. Her racking sobs had become nothing more than small hiccups. He had intended to speak to her about today’s events as they were too important to ignore. One look at that injury at lunchtime had exposed her lie. If she had been letting, there would have been more than one mark. The crook of the elbow was generally only used if someone wanted to disguise what they were doing, since the small silver scars left were often unnoticeable against the fold of the elbow. He had known something was wrong, and her reaction on seeing him only served to confirm his suspicions.
Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) Page 13
