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

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