Her Dark Soul

by Kim Knox

  She fought to pull in air, her gaze fixed on him, on the dull halo of gold shrouding his face, his hair.

  “And again.”

  The second breath was deeper and the hot burn in her chest eased.

  “Another.”

  With the pull of air came other scents. Pushing over the damp smell of old plaster, of people, of Marek, was the heavy odor of wet fur. She wrestled free of him, stumbling back into the deep shadows of the alley. She clamped her hand to her mouth and her heartbeat ramped. It seemed to be all around her, the cool air stinking with it.

  She pressed her palm to the wall, trying to ground herself. Her nails dug into the crumbling plaster. “He’s not on the boat anymore.” The heaviness of the earth, of stone and brick pressed against her thoughts and she felt Lucas’ heart racing, the pounding of his boots over the smooth cobbles of the quay. “He’s running.”

  Marek closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms like iron bands, but she couldn’t focus on him. She ran with Lucas, through the press of sailors and merchants, past the fresh catches of silver-skinned fish, and turned into a cavernous warehouse. He dodged porters rolling barrels…but the dogs, the dogs were so close…

  Ash gagged at the rancid stench of their breath. A burst of white heat flashed over her, the stink of hot metal chasing after it.

  A beast yowled, staggered but soon found its pace again. The rush of anxious fear almost swallowed her, hers and his combined. “His magic didn’t work against them.” The words came out in pants. “He flung…something…and the dog just…stumbled.”

  “They’ve been bred with a high tolerance to ancient magic.”

  Marek’s tight words skittered over her panicked thoughts, she heard them, but they meant nothing. The dogs were almost on Lucas, the heavy shadows behind, in front, to the sides holding low snarls and the sudden flash of razor-sharp teeth. All around him. His heart hammered and took hers with it.

  “They’re…” She pressed her spine to the cold wall, too aware of the dogs, of rank breath, the drip of saliva from glistening fangs. The shifting ghosts of sharp, black muzzles, dark eyes and hulking, mottled bodies inched towards her across the alley. “Everywhere.”

  “Ashsara!”

  Her holy name snapped her attention to Marek. Anger thinned his mouth. “Break from him.”

  She shook her head. How could their primary ask that of her? He should protect them. “I can’t…”

  Marek blocked her body with his, his strength pressing hard against her. The golden glow of the oil lamp flickered around him, casting his face into deep shadow. His warm breath brushed her lips. “I order you, as your primary, to pull your mind free of Lucas.”

  Her chest heaved and she fought to control the anger, the fear rioting through her. She had to obey her primary. It was a part of her growing bond. But he was asking her to leave Lucas, the man she cared for, a man who was a part of her flesh. Leave him to be shredded by a pack of ravenous dogs. “You can’t order that.”

  “I can order you to do anything.” The raw rasp of his voice burned under her skin and the ghosts of the dogs, their stench, faded back. Marek’s male scent replaced them. “It’s my right.”

  “No.”

  His hard hands shaped her waist, her hip and he gripped her backside, pressing her hard against him. “Break your contact from Lucas. You can’t help him now.”

  Ash bit at her lip, denying the hot run of emotion that had tears burning. The dogs were too close and she felt the desperation in Lucas, the hot fear, his need for her. “I won’t leave him.”

  “Then you give me no choice.”

  His mouth covered hers in a sudden, ruthless kiss, his tongue stroking against hers. She pushed her hands against his chest, struggling to get free of him, to cling to the fading contact with Lucas, but Marek was immovable. He pressed her into the wall, his fingers gripping her ass and then her thigh, lifting, parting her so that he pushed the length of his erection against her aching flesh.

  She groaned, her fingers fisting the thick material of his tunic. He thrust against her and sparks danced behind her eyes. His soft, pleasured moan sank into her flesh. And with a start, she realized that her grasp on Lucas was gone.

  Ash crushed her eyes against the run of tears, Marek forcing unwanted fire through her body. She wanted to scream at him, plant her fist into his face, but her other need, the one that wanted him hard and strong inside, clashed with it. She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping him, driving his mouth against hers.

  He had broken her from Lucas. And she would take him hard and fast for it.

  His thrusts increased, the barrier of their clothes fueling her desperation. She ripped her mouth from his, glaring at him, hating him, wanting him. “If you’re going to fuck me, you’d better make it good.”

  Desire burned in his eyes and the power of her primary shone there—and just as suddenly it was gone. Almost as if a heavy screen dropped over who he was. Marek pulled in a ragged breath and his gaze darted around her face before he met her eyes again. His hard grip on her thigh eased and he let her leg drop.

  “The contact is gone.”

  Pain pushed through her chest and she scrubbed a hand over her damp eyes. “You broke it, yes.”

  Marek stepped back from her. “You couldn’t be with him.”

  “Why?” She stabbed the question at him. “He needed me…and I…I abandoned him.”

  “I protected your mind, and his.” Marek wiped his fingers over his mouth, his jaw, and pulled in a heavy breath. “It was all I could do.”

  “It wasn’t good enough.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  He gripped her arm but she shrugged free of him. “I can’t feel him at all.”

  Marek tilted his head. “What does your gut tell you?”

  She glared at him, but under his steady, hard gaze she was forced to push at her feelings. Ash closed her eyes. The cool air of the alley pressed against her, the heavy odors of the city cutting across her thoughts. Lucas Taysia. She thought his name, felt it sink into her flesh and a warmth surrounded her. Her panicked heart eased. She sensed heavy, brown darkness, the odor of cloth and leather filling her. Everything moved, a fast rock and judder. Wood creaked.

  Ash pushed harder and the familiar rhythm of a strong heartbeat thudded just out of time with her own. Lucas. Her mind whispered his name and his pulse changed. A hint of a smile touched his lips and the feel of it, the relief made her echo him. Lucas was asleep, drugged, but alive.

  She let out a slow breath and opened her eyes. “He’s alive. He isn’t in pain, but he’s drugged. They’re taking him…somewhere.”

  Marek stroked his fingers over her hot cheek and she wished she could see the expression on his shadowed face. “Breaking contact protected you both,” he muttered. He moved closer, the heat of his body covering hers. His thumb brushed her lower lip and he dipped his head. The light, warm kiss pressed an unexpected ache under her heart. “I will find him.”

  She had to be imagining the emotion in his eyes and her stomach knotted, the first relief of Lucas being alive now gone. “How? He’s drugged, in a wagon, going who knows where—”

  Marek silenced her with another kiss, still light, and yet something about it… She sighed. It felt precious. “I will find him.” He stepped back from her and his fingers slipped down her arm to take her hand. “After all, his breath is yours.”

  There should have been more. Ash felt the words hanging on the air between them. But Marek tugged her along the dark, deserted alley between the tenements. She shook her head. She didn’t understand a world where Marek was almost…kind. “What now? Will they hunt us?”

  “They’ll concentrate on us now that they know that Lucas was alone.”

  The bright sunlight carving across the colonnade forced her to wince, the noise, the fresh stink of people and animals hitting her after the musty stench of the alley. She tensed as the sun glinted off the burnished armor of the street soldiers. They di
dn’t interfere with the affairs of the custodians, but still, she didn’t trust them not to be co-opted into the madness. “Is there no way to mask us?”

  “Our blood doesn’t scream to them. That’s our only advantage.”

  “Not much of an advantage.”

  “You work with what you have.” Marek wove quickly through the afternoon crowds. “We have to get the marker back before Zorion uses it to find whatever the treasure really is.”

  “And then what? I’m not a ward anymore.” She shook her head and a shiver of remembrance ran through her. “It marked something living, a beast.”

  Marek flicked a glance at her, his gaze dark and something more. Something that had the surge of need racing through her body. A single look from him could warm her flesh, even at the most inappropriate times. If he sealed their bond—

  She almost laughed at herself. They were on the run, hunted by dogs with magic bred into their bones, Lucas had been captured and taken she didn’t know where…and what occupied her? Getting Marek pushed up against the nearest wall, stripping him and sinking down on his hot, hard—

  Ash bit at the inside of her cheek to stop the flare of desire in her flesh. “So what’s your great plan, Marek?” She couldn’t fight the sarcasm. Hell, it couldn’t be any worse than breaking into the palace to hunt down the emperor’s cousin.

  “It’s simple.” Marek side-stepped a slave leading a bow-necked horse into a blacksmith’s shop. “We find the treasure—your beast—ourselves.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ash gaped at him. All right, it was worse than anything she could have thought. “You’re insane.”

  “It’s the only choice we have now.” His mouth thinned. “I know I trust myself not to try to control the beast. Zorion.” A muscle jumped in his lean jaw. “I’ve met him once. I wouldn’t trust him with a spark of ancient magic.”

  The memory of the beast that had swept down over her, almost devouring her, whipped again through her thoughts. The power it held—she could still feel it coursing through her blood. Nothing could deny or control that thing, not even Marek’s iron will. “Marek…”

  “So what would be your plan?”

  “Rescue Lucas.”

  “Then what?” He snapped the question at her. “You run from Bukhara with him?” He pulled in an angry breath and stopped at the edge of the pavement. The solid, wooden bulk of a private carriage pulled by four thick-bodied horses blocked the path across. “Zorion will use this treasure. We have to stop him.”

  “Even if that means using it ourselves?”

  “Yes, even—shit.” He tensed, his body frozen and his fingers a vise around hers. “I can smell them.”

  Ash’s heart squeezed and she shoved down the hot surge of panic. “How far is it to the palace?”

  Marek cursed under his breath. “A mile.” He glanced behind him, but Ash couldn’t find the courage to do the same. “Maybe more.” He lifted his shoulders. “I think we’re going to have to use a little trickery.” Quickly he crossed the broad stones. “There was a rumor about how the dogs were trained to hunt. Dark souls stink to these animals. It’s how the ancient magic corrupted their flesh. The rumor is that they have to train them hard to avoid one scent in particular. It confuses them.”

  Ash’s mind leapt back to the carter. “The garum seller.” And then she winced. “Garum.”

  He gave her a short smile. “I never acquired the taste for liquid made from sun-rotted fish guts.”

  “It was a favorite of the first priest. Smelling it on his breath is as close as I ever want to come.” She let out a soft snort. “You know, you and Lucas don’t smell like that.”

  “Good to know. It was also the reason I took this route.”

  He pulled her into a tavern thick with patrons, weaving through the tables, the delicious scent of roasting meat heavy on the shadowed air. Ash ignored the leers and Marek caught the hand of the man who tried to grab her backside. Her accoster’s face turned a bright purple as Marek’s fingers tightened around his wrist. His knees hit the tiles and his groan was strangled. Marek let him go and he crumpled to the beer-slopped floor. No other man tried to touch her.

  They pushed out through the open archway into a small courtyard and the rich smell of roasted meat, carried out with them, changed. A sharp tang, cut with the hint of rot, wove through the air. The tenement was low, having only two stories and a flight of stone steps that led up to the flat roof. Slaves walked the roof and three great wooden pulleys sat along its length. The central pulley creaked and groaned and lowered a wide barrel down to the trader a few feet in front of them…and with the barrel came the stink.

  “Ah, the perfume the emperor adores,” declared the trader, wafting his heavily ringed hand over the open barrel to bring the scent to his nose.

  “Tekani Metri.”

  The man froze, the thick silk of his jacket straining across his broad back. He turned on his heel—almost a forced action—and gave Marek a flourishing bow. “Lord Savada. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His hand pressed to his chest and his fingers curled against something in an obscured pocket. “I trust that everything is well with you and your profession.”

  Marek closed the distance between them, taking Ash with him. The stench from the open barrel of sun-heated fish guts forced water from her eyes. She swallowed and tried to breathe through her mouth. It didn’t work. The stink of the fish sat on her tongue. The dogs thought she smelled like that? It was an insult.

  “Everything is fine.” He gave Tekani a short smile that did little to ease the tight wariness of the other man. “I’ve come to you concerning a delicate matter.” He shot a look up to the slaves at the pulley and they hastily scuttled back. “One I need to discuss in private.”

  Tekani waved his hand down the courtyard. “My office is this way.”

  They followed him to a dark, wooden door, which he unlocked and pushed open onto a small windowless office. His hand flapped, obviously searching for something in the heavy shadows.

  “Here, let me,” Marek murmured and a spark of white light unerringly found the clay oil lamp. The fizz and crackle of the wick in the oil filled the silence and a soft, golden light lifted some of the shadows.

  Tekani picked up the lamp, using it to light his way across to his broad desk. He sank into a high-backed chair and steepled his fingers. His many rings glinted. He was trying to slip into his professional persona, but a line of sweat edged his hairline and his gaze darted to the door as Marek closed it. The metal hinges ground together. Yes, Marek scared him.

  Ash glanced at her custodian, cut by light, the hard turn of his features setting a fast pace to her pulse. She blew out a slow breath. Until they had sex, until they sealed whatever bond Marek didn’t believe in, her desire for him would live heavy in her thoughts.

  He pointed to a seat and she sat. He sat next to her, stretching out, apparently a man with time and no deep worries. His head tilted and Tekani twitched. There was something of the predator in Marek. And she wanted it.

  “Your treasure is safe.”

  Tekani clutched at his tunic again, no doubt touching a disc similar to the one Marek had given Nelek, “buying” her from the first priest. She wondered what the stinking garum merchant had to hide.

  “Good. That is good. I wouldn’t sleep easy knowing that such a precious family heirloom—”

  “I need a favor,” Marek cut into his fast speech. “Well, to be more exact, it’s an imperial favor.”

  Tekani swallowed. His lips moved and he mouthed the word “imperial”. He pulled in a deep breath. “I am nothing if not a good and loyal subject to his Imperial Majesty.”

  Marek presented him with another thin smile and Ash knotted her hands in her lap. She wanted to touch him, trace the perfection of his jaw, his chin. She ached for him, even in a cramped office thick with the stench of fish gut oil. Her life was insane. She was insane.

  “I know you’re loyal, Tekani. Which is why I came to you.” He linked his fin
gers. “I am guardian to a certain treasure that the crown prince wishes to…inspect.”

  Tekani’s pale eyes darted to her and a flush burned under his cheeks. He nodded, something quick, nervous. “Inspect, yes.”

  “Now this treasure is unusual and the crown prince would prefer if it wasn’t widely known that he found it of interest.”

  And Tekani was openly staring at her. What the hell did he think she was? He recovered, his fingers pressing against his chin, and he sank back into his padded chair. The light from the oil lamp played over his fleshy jowls. “My next delivery is due in eight days—”

  “And you think the crown prince will wait over a week?” Marek’s fingers skimmed her thigh and she bit down a gasp at the sudden contact. He drew a lazy pattern against the smooth fabric of her breeches, his gaze sliding up her body. Ash controlled her breathing and her fingers curled into bloodless fists. She had no idea what his plan was, but damn it, he couldn’t play with her this way. His gaze gripped her. His power, his strength burned in the darkness of his eyes. “I know what she is.” The promise in his voice sank heat low into her flesh. “And I would want her now.”

  She moaned, a soft, throaty sound that tightened Marek’s fingers against her thigh. She wanted him, wanted to push him back in the chair and ride him, uncaring that the fat merchant would see. Marek was hers and she would take him.

  A half-strangled cough broke through her heated thoughts and she glared at Tekani. He shrank back into his chair, his face flushed, his eyes round…and scared. She blinked. He was scared of her?

  “You see?” Marek eased his hold on her leg, but his fingers stayed there, continuing the easy stroke that ran a hot thrum though her flesh. “Do you think he’ll reward you for keeping her from him?”

  Tekani sucked in a quick breath. “I can bring the delivery forward.”

  “Do that.”

  The merchant jerked back his chair and stood. He ran his fingers over the large expanse of his belly, smoothing over the wrinkles in the silk. “I will load what I have onto our fastest wagon.”

  Ash watched him walk around the wide desk, his gaze darting over Marek and herself, nervous spots of red straining his cheeks. He pulled the door open and the stink of the open barrels of fish guts burst fresh into the small room. Ash bit at her lip, trying not to breathe until the door closed again. Hinges grated…and they were alone.