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

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