Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) by Kathryn Jayne (old books to read .TXT) 📗

had he seen her unable to walk. The thought of her being so close to Conrad made him seethe. If anyone should be holding her it should be him, not some stranger who followed her around like a lovesick puppy.

Why she never sought help for her condition was beyond him. Perhaps she assumed that whatever it was would cost her her job. For a long time, he had intended to heal her, confess about his gift and lift the curse from her. He had played the scenario over in his mind so many times. It was at this point that she would notice him, look at him the way he’d seen her look at Conrad. He’d been waiting for the right moment, a time when she was in desperate need and he could be her knight, offering her salvation through his touch and earning her affections. He snarled at the thought of her within Conrad’s embrace. It should be him there, holding her, comforting her. But since he had come to their academy, everything had changed.

Will had been working so hard to get Ashley to see him that it bordered on insulting that she seemed too intent on analysing everyone else to notice him. That would end now. Tonight, he would take her from Conrad’s arms and be her saviour. He rose to his feet in determination, but a strong hand seized his shoulder, shoving him down.

“Going somewhere?” the dark voice questioned.

Fumbling for a reason, Will glanced around. “Thought you were a no-show.”

“As if. You got it?” Devon asked, a sneer twisting his lips as he ran a hand through his light-brown hair.

“Yes.” He revealed the small device in his hand, loading the debt tally on his own device, where Devon pressed his thumb to strike the latest payment as complete.

“Now there’s a matter of interest.” He could see the vampire’s hunger as he slid in beside him. “Don’t worry, I know you’re tapped-out, but if I let you go without at least a taste, it would reflect badly on our arrangement.”

“I thought my job covered it,”

“It did, but our contract says if you default, I must take at least a portion of the outstanding dues in blood. Don’t worry, I’ve no plans to turn you. After all, your blood is too good to pass.” Will felt alarm fill him. “Oh yes, I’ve been here when you were letting, you’ve a taste of magic in those veins. We don’t have many MI letters these days. Worth a lot. I hope you’re getting well compensated.”

Will heard himself gasp as Devon’s tongue extended, the leech-like sucker piercing his flesh as the three jaw plates within closed. It was more shock than pain that caused his reaction, but he could see it had pleased the vampire.

The tongue released him, allowing the blood to flow freely into the awaiting mouth as it nuzzled and suckled at his wrist. There were three kinds of vampires he knew of, Will reminded himself trying to focus on something other than what was happening. There were the ones with fangs, the ones whose tongues pierced the flesh, and psychic vampires, who fed on a person’s energy rather than their blood.

Those from the blood-sucking clans released an anaesthetic and sometimes an anticoagulant, too, depending on how long they planned to feed for. It was said the different types evolved in this manner due to environmental differences. He tried to think of their names to keep himself focused as the room began to sway around him. For a moment, his vision fixed upon the grey-coloured text upon the menu, triggering images of Ashley’s smoky eyes. Thoughts of her gave him strength to hold on to his consciousness. He imagined her expressive gaze turning towards him as she smiled, welcoming him into her embrace. Just as her image began to fade and a cold darkness took root, he felt the pressure upon his wrist ease. “All settled, until next month. By the way, if you want to skip the middle man, I’ll give you a good price to bleed for me. Think it over. You know how to reach me.”

As Devon left, Will let his head fall back against the soft, padded seat, all too aware of the danger of being caught on this side of the bar. Blood-letting was very strict in order to protect clients and donors. They were assigned a number which rated their blood attributes in type, properties, and purities. He was MA+MI60, where MI stood for magic innate, meaning his blood had magic in it, and its overall purity was 60%. It was rare to find anyone with a score higher than 60%. Even virgins only pushed the balance up to 70%, although they were said to taste purer than their stats, thus were gifted with a V at the end of their statistic. Then there was his Letting ID for people who favoured a certain person; this was like a brand, used to identify regulars since the properties could change depending on the donor’s diet and health.

“You need to leave,” whispered a voice. Its soft, honeyed tones were familiar. It took a moment for him to place its owner as Whitney, one of the servers who was assigned to remove the syphons—the leech-like creatures that harvested blood—from their donors and deliver them to the appropriate customer. She slid into the booth beside him, her hand carefully stroking his arm as she looked upon him with concern.

She always seemed to have a radiant smile, no doubt from the many hours she spent practising for the patrons. “Sitting here is an invitation for others. Come on.” He felt her arm supporting him as she led him towards the back. His balance faltered, causing him to stumble, almost pulling them both from their feet. “I’ll get you something to eat and drink. Devon’s bad news, better if you steer clear from personal dealings. He’s not one to play by the rules.” She sat him in one of the