Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,48

I tilted my head to the left and angled toward the light, shivering at the memory of the large vampire exposing my neck last night.

There. Faint yellow bruising. It would be gone in a few days at most. He’d accelerated my healing somehow. Is that what he did with all the licking?

Warmth flushed through me at the thought of what nearly transpired between us after the blood compulsion. The warmth lasted a split second before fury followed in its slipstream, shredding all trace of lust in its path.

That was more like it. I’d known the hatred would come back.

He’d nearly killed me. With fright. And then saved my life only to interrogate and hurt me. Now, his blood was in my body, and my blood in his. That felt more invasive and violating than if we’d had sex. Sex would have been a one-time thing. With him anyway.

This blood compulsion?

... He’d been inside my head, controlling me while drawing my life force into his mouth one greedy guzzle at a time. But for Angelica’s interruption, neither he nor myself could have stopped us from having sex.

I scowled at myself in the mirror. “Hussy.”

Quickly stripping, I stepped into the hot shower. A sigh left my lips as water pounded over my head. Mmm, good pressure. Kyros Sky had one thing going for it. Because it sure wasn’t the owner.

I let go of as much of the last two days as possible. Minutes passed, maybe hours during which I remembered the episode with Clint. It seemed so insignificant now. What Clint did to me had obeyed the rules of the world I’d known. I’d take a run-in with him over Kyros any day.

My breathing slowed.

My shoulders eased.

Only then did I pick up my razor with something akin to reverence.

And began.

Losing myself to the task as I inspected my body for hair. Then I foamed the lemon myrtle blend all over my body. I returned a second and third time, trying to rub Kyros’s fingerprints off my body.

I wouldn’t be rubbing Clint’s away, it seemed. Ugly purple bruises marred the skin of my upper arm, but I hadn’t noticed any bruising on my face from his slap at least.

Remembering the state of my hair, I ducked out of the shower to grab the shampoo and conditioner from the floor.

After two shampoos and two conditions, the heat in the shower had my head swimming. The crackling, erratic fear I’d felt since waking had dissipated somewhat and I was feeling appropriately tired.

Time to face the world again—after hydrating of course.

I wrapped a towel around my body, tucking it in over my breasts, and wrapped a second towel around my head.

Legs shaking, I crossed back to the main room and flopped onto the bed.

Jesus, how much blood did the leech take? I wanted to sleep again.

How did the blood compulsion even work? It was meant to stop me talking about vampires, but how foolproof was it?

Kyros failing occurred to me for the first time.

Vampires exist. I imagined Tommy in front of me as I tried to say the words aloud, only managing an intelligible gurgle. With my finger, I tried to trace the words on my leg as though writing it for her. Nope, couldn’t even budge my hand. I couldn’t think of any other ways to test my constraints, but I could assume the blood compulsion worked. Which was magic.

And impossible.

But it was real.

Shuffling off the bed again, I squeezed as much moisture from my hair and used the tiny comb from the bathroom to work out the knots. Drying my arms and legs, I returned to my pack to don the only clean underwear I had—my black G-banger and lacy bra. Another sign the universe was having a field day with my life. This was a day for underwear that stretched over half my stomach, a hole-ridden tee, no bra, short shorts, and woollen socks.

Pushing aside my longing for all of the above, I picked up my moisturiser. A hazelnut-sized dollop was enough for both legs. I put much more than that on my hands today.

As I worked the scentless blend into my arms and torso, I returned to my attempts to break the blood compulsion even though I was on the fence about telling my loved ones about vampires, leaning toward not. That aside, the bastard had pillaged my mind. Pure self-respect wouldn’t let me accept that without a fight.

Hey, Tom, Twilight is real, but Edward’s hair is better. Nope. The words choked