Her Dark Soul

by Kim Knox

  Marek pressed his hand to her jaw and she stared at him, desperate for his strength, his reassurance. “We’ll be all right?”

  Darkness shrouded them, the howl of the writhing sand blending with Caheus’ solid heartbeat. She didn’t get her answer. Lucas’ hands tightened on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. His fear, his fear for her, thickened in her thoughts and she wanted to offer comfort, promise him that they would survive. Her hand covered his, her fingers threading until she could curl her fingertips over the back of his hand. Grief, anger and love swirled through her thoughts and she ached to hold him, to turn into his arms. Shield him against the monster trapping them.

  Marek touched his lips to hers, a light, almost endless kiss that squeezed her heart. “I’m with you.”

  Lucas tensed as her regret powered through her and wrapped around him. But then another pain swept through him, its first cut tearing his skin…and hers as she shared his torment. Jagged teeth raked his flesh and Ash held her breath, bracing her body, waiting, waiting for the agony of his first screams.

  The iron scent of blood mixed with Caheus’ rank breath and his loud heartbeat drummed fast in her head. The monster was dragging it out, had to be enjoying the fear and the pain he inflicted. Curses ran through her thoughts, anger fighting with the terror in her blood.

  “Get it over with.” She growled the words and Lucas tightened his grip on her body, shot real pain through her flesh rather than the echo of his own. Ash glared up at the maw above her. She ignored the sudden bloom of horror that ran fearful heat through her blood.

  The maw above her looked like a mouth…and didn’t. Something swirled in its depths and the raw pull of the magic seared her skin. Caheus’ power was endless, terrifying, and the thought of him breaking out of the prison her ancestors had built around him, of him feeding that power into Zorion’s madness, chilled her heart. They would be a part of it. Would enable Caheus to what…?

  Lucas’ pain filled her thoughts, the agony in his flesh sharpening her senses. Caheus’ magic, what he was, flared across her mind, stabbing needles under her skin, driving the pain deeper. It hit her in a wild rush. Death and life coalesced with him, were under his total command.

  Ancient memories burned across her thoughts of the dead walking, caught in the hell of their own decaying flesh. Caheus drew his strength from their pain, from the slow seepage of their life. He fed from them as he had consumed the images of her.

  His unnaturalness wrapped the odor of rot around the pain firing under every inch of her skin…and that was his power. His ability to feed from the living, to turn them to husks inside their own bodies. And then he would feed from that too.

  Ash crushed her eyes against Lucas’ agony, the grind of Caheus’ teeth into his flesh leaking tears down her cheeks. She grabbed at Marek, wanting his strength. And it hit her. The small part of her brain that could still think realized that he wasn’t in pain. Only anger scorched from Marek. Anger and power.

  She forced her eyes open. The whip of sand, of the dark, glistening interior of the beast’s mouth, filled her vision. Marek stared down the throat of the endless maw, his body tense under her tight grip, but she felt not a shred of pain pulse from him.

  She said his name. Her lips, her tongue moved but she didn’t feel the push of sound. Ash swallowed, her mouth dry and raw. She pulled in a heavy lungful of fetid air and shouted into the darkness. “Marek!”

  “I’m the perfect combination of the old and new magics.” Marek’s voice somehow rose above the chaotic roar of the twisting sand and the rapid thud of Caheus’ heartbeat. His chin lifted and the maw jerked back. Excited heat ran through her body and it surged over Lucas, a balm to the agony of his flesh. Whatever it was about Marek, the damn monster edged away. “You have no power over me.”

  Hard laughter deafened them. “Really?”

  Marek gripped Lucas’ shoulder and the agony of the beast’s teeth rendering his flesh stopped. Simply stopped. The absence of pain caught her breath. Lucas’ forehead dropped to her shoulder and the hot run of his tears soaked her skin. Her heart squeezed and she glared up at the distortion of a mouth that surrounded them. “You were saying?”

  A smile twitched at Marek’s lips. “I have the power of the deomos. Not you.”

  The laughter deepened. “You think that.”

  “I know that.” She felt the full smile that cut across his mouth. “Didn’t Zorion tell you about me?”

  “You’re a mongrel, like so many of the dark souls now. Blood thinned and twisted.” Derision pushed through his words. “Not as pure to taste as Lucas here, but I’ll still devour you.” The maw edged closer, but Marek’s hand on Lucas’ shoulder prevented teeth biting into his back. “Zorion wants a share in my power. To do that I needed to know what he was, know the mix of dark soul and custodian. He chose you. He gave a part of himself with his daughter and the luxury of a pure dark soul with Lucas.” Satisfaction edged his voice. “Nothing you can do will stop me.”

  “Then carry on.”

  Caheus loomed over them and the surge of magic thickened as he poured more of himself into devouring them.

  Marek stood firm, his inner power, even stripped of his magics, both dark soul and custodian, giving him—and them—strength to fight the beast’s attack. “When I learned what Ash was,” Marek gritted out the words and his force formed a solid barrier, a rock against the raw pulse of Caheus’ magic, “I prepared.”

  “Prepared?” Caheus growled and the burn of power curled and sparked around them, but nothing touched their skin and Lucas remained free of pain. The twist of frustration threaded through the magic. Whatever Marek did was beginning to enrage the beast. “There is no defense against me.”

  “Our unity is our defense.”

  Ash stared up into the gaping mouth and pushed down her fear. She trusted Marek, trusted that he knew what the hell he was doing. A wry smile tugged at her mouth and the echo of it flowed back into Lucas. They were deomos. The power of that bond wrapped around them, through them and Marek—she could feel it now—Marek had harnessed their power. His denial had been a ploy, meant to fool whoever planned to use them, to exploit the deomos.

  She ignored the brief curl of doubt that he couldn’t have trusted her with that knowledge. If what he planned got them out alive and uneaten, she was happy.

  Caheus’ roar splintered her thoughts and the thick flesh of his mouth wavered, swirls of sand spinning in its place. “You were not complete. You could not have control.”

  “Zorion didn’t understand what I am. I’m a perfect balance of my powers.” Marek’s satisfied grin made Ash want to kiss him. Hard. “Without the oath of the custodians, the honor of that code, I can do what the hell I like.”

  Caheus’ rage burned incandescent and his fury stormed against them…but not one lick of his magic touched their skin. Lucas’ hands gripped her shoulders and his pride in Marek, in them, surged through Ash. The joy, the respect, hell, the desire they had for each other strengthened their bond and gave yet more power to their magic. And it funneled through Marek and beat against the violent rage of the desperate, ancient beast.

  The flesh of Caheus frizzled away as he consumed himself in trying to kill them. The burning light of the arena scorched through, slicing away the darkness, illuminating the twists of white sand flowing around them.

  “Zorion thought he offered me as his replacement.”

  Marek laughed and something in his tone, the sharp scorn, spiked Caheus and the raw burst of energy swept around them in a brilliant flare of white light. “Mongrels will not defeat me.” The stink of charred flesh cut through the dry whip of the sand and its heat prickled her skin.

  A tremor ran through Marek, and Ash reacted. She pulled his head down and covered his mouth with her own. She swallowed his groan as her tongue fought with his. His cock hardened against her belly and fresh, new fire raced through her body, through his, through Lucas. The taste of magic quickly followed, the familiar heat
and joy that was almost as addictive as the mouth of the man she kissed.

  “It’s working.” Lucas’ voice stole over her skin and his hands tightened against her hips.

  The scorch of Caheus faded and the slicking heat of the sun kissed her shoulders. She heard a distant scream and then a blast of sand showered them.

  Marek slumped to the sand, breaking her mouth from his and dropping Lucas with them. Lucas groaned as his knees impacted the hard, black stone beneath his feet. Marek helped her support him, her sweating hands slick against his skin.

  “His back was shredded.” Ash pulled in her courage and willed herself to look at his back…and found it smooth and uncut, no blood staining his skin. “I don’t understand.” She ran light fingers over his shoulder blade, his ribs, across his spine. His muscles twitched, but she didn’t get a hard hit of pain in their wake. “It wasn’t real?”

  Marek lifted his head. Weariness hung on him. Standing against Caheus had drained him of his incredible strength. “Caheus is a powerful dark soul, with strong influence. He can make you believe that he’s killing you. And it’s how he feeds.”

  Ash shook her head. “I hate magic.”

  Lucas gave a weak, sour laugh. “That makes two of us.”

  She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and smiled against his skin. “You shouldn’t taste so good.”

  “My eternal problem.” He looked to Marek, who climbed to his feet and found their clothes. He shook the sand from his trousers and pulled them on before finding his boots. “How long before he comes back?”

  Marek smacked the sand from his tunic. “I don’t know. Not long. He’s still caught here. The crystal map was only a small chink cutting into this prison.” He stamped into his boots. “You both need to dress.”

  Ash helped him to shrug clothes onto Lucas before she tugged on her long tunic and breeches. She pushed her feet into her slippers and took Lucas’ arm again. “Where is he?”

  A bleak smile touched Marek’s mouth. “If I were as mad as Caheus is right now, I’d be having my fun with Zorion.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Well, until he comes to his senses. Zorion is his only link to the world beyond this prison. Wonder how long it’ll take him to remember that.”

  “Long enough for us to get out of here.” Lucas straightened and twisted himself free of their hold. He offered his hands. “Use the deomos to get out of here.”

  “You’re too weak…” Ash’s protesting words died as Marek took his right hand and held it tight. His dark eyes seared her and she felt his compulsion to obey. “He’s not strong enough.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Ash, we have to get out. Marek may not be able to hold him off a second time.”

  She bit at her lip. Damn them for making her care for them. Ash slid her fingers against his and pressed her fingertips into his palm. She could feel his will, the sheer effort it took for him to stand unaided. Her love for him tangled with the fear that this would be the last time she saw him, touched him, felt him wrap his thoughts and emotions around hers.

  Ash pushed down the wild rush of her thoughts and met Marek’s hard gaze. He was their primary. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing. “What now?”

  “Now we use what’s left of the deomos power to break through the dream barrier. We have somewhere we have to be.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Time to sleep, Ash.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  With a cry, Ash hit the floor. Not sand, and the hot beat of the scorching sun didn’t burn her skin, slick her body with sweat. Cool air, the scent of aloes and almonds drifting on the light breeze and the shift of silk against stone pushed at her senses in a strange haze.

  She shook her head and opened her eyes to a wide room, filled with gilded furniture. Ornate paintings covered the high, plastered walls and in the center sat a huge bed, draped with heavy fabrics. Where the hell…?

  Something—someone—stirred beside her. Her world sharpened and fear slammed into her. “Lucas?”

  He lay on the tiled floor, his face an unnatural gray. She cupped her hand to his jaw and his skin was clammy to touch. Her heart turned over. She could feel his pulse, weak and thready. His thoughts as she tried to wrap her mind around his were sluggish and incoherent. Ash bit her lip and ached to push her will into him. After everything they had been through, she would not lose him now.

  “Wait.” Marek put a steady hand on her shoulder. “We have time. There’s another way.” He stood back from her and turned to the draped bed. “Majesty.”

  Ash stared at him, not believing that he could dismiss the threat to Lucas so easily. Each pained beat of his heart pulled at her own chest. She could almost feel the cold bite of death in his veins and Marek, Marek seemed more concerned with waking the sleeping lump in the vast bed.

  He glanced back at her. He looked to Lucas and his eyes narrowed. “Trust me, Ash. I’ll save him for you.”

  That strange twist of guilt broke through her fear. Ash blinked. It wasn’t her guilt, it was Marek’s. She frowned. What did he have to be guilty about?

  “What is the meaning of this interruption?” A meaty hand yanked back the heavy bed curtain and a large man in a linen nightshirt loomed out of the shadows of the bed. The crest of the imperial throne gilded his chest in gold and silver thread. Ash’s gut tightened. He was Rufin Uiseann Balere, Prince of the Senate, First Priest of the Pantheon, Commander of the Legions. Justus the Sixth. The emperor. “Guards!”

  “Majesty.” Marek gave him a quick, but low bow. “I’m the custodian, Marek Savada.”

  The emperor’s pale eyes narrowed. Heavy doors thudded against stone and the clank and clatter of guards charging at a run filled the room. He waved his hand and the men stopped. The senior guard, his breastplate burnished copper and inlaid with the golden imperial crest, snapped a salute.

  “Sire, should we execute these intruders?”

  “You may leave, Commander Visten. I’m quite safe.” Justus watched the soldiers turn and march from the room, their iron-shod boots clanking against the tiles. The doors shut with a heavy thump and the emperor swung his legs free of the covers to stand before them. “Marek.” He looked to her and then to Lucas. “Ashsara Nerah and…?”

  “Lucas Taysia, Majesty. The third in our deomos.”

  Justus wiped a hand across his mouth, his forefinger and thumb pinching his plump lips. Heat burned across his sagging cheeks. “You formed a deomos.” He sank back to the bed and his palm swept over his thinning hair. His shoulders dropped. “Zorion?”

  Marek tilted his head. Ash held her breath and in that silence, the distant, torn screams ran goose bumps over her skin. “He may well not be sane anymore, Majesty.”

  A slight smile touched the emperor’s lips before he sobered and his chin lifted. “Then the custodians need a new Senior Prime. The role is yours, Lord Savada.”

  Marek gave a short nod, his face calm and composed, but Ash felt the burn of satisfaction run through him. “I would be honored, Majesty.” He straightened. “And now if I could ask a favor of you?”

  “You have removed a man who has restricted, plagued my rule.” He teased his fingers through the strands of his blond hair and for a brief moment he looked away. Lucas’ heartbeat drew her back to him and his face looked aged, worn. He was slipping away before her and Marek continued to…to talk. The emperor shifted against the silk sheets of his high bed. “I was too aware, but unable to act against him. My only way of warning you was through the loyalty of Jasha Lonat. You were a man marked by Zorion and he has spies everywhere. He has distorted the rule of so many. Put that slug Nelek in a position of power.” He released a bitter sigh. “I apologize. What would you ask of me, Marek?”

  “That you find Zorion and watch his torture while it lasts.”

  A smile quirked the corner of the emperor’s mouth. “You want me out of this room to heal your secondary?”

  Ash’s head snapped up and she found Justus looking at her. He pushed himself to his feet and strod
e across the room. He swung on a heavy dressing gown and tied the cord around his waist. His bare feet found lined, leather slippers. “All the royal line are taught the customs of the dark souls, Ashsara. It’s still in our blood and for a rare few, magic will burn.” He pulled open one of the large, ebony doors and the clank of saluting guards cut into the bedchamber. “And after I enjoy his torture, I will find a tower in which Zorion can scream away his remaining decades.” A dark smile cut his fleshy lips. “I think the First Priest of Fausta and his retinue will join him.”

  The door thudded shut and Ash let her shoulders drop. Marek was already moving. He gripped Lucas and with his hands under his armpits, he heaved him onto the emperor’s rumpled bed. A huffed breath of air escaped Lucas. His chest dipped. The beat of his heart slowed.

  Ash pressed a fist to her chest, willing Lucas to mirror the strong thud of her own heart.

  “That’s not enough.” Marek yanked his tunic over his head. The last rays of the twelfth hour cut through the wide windows and outlined his smooth torso. Her pulse jumped and the first taste of magic came with it. “He needs our energy.” A smile touched his mouth, brief almost awkward. His finger traced the line of her jaw and a ripple of pleasure eased under her skin. “With it, I can save him.”

  Ash tilted her head into his touch. “Then why are we still talking?” She tugged her long tunic over her head and it puddled on the tiled floor, her breeches and slippers quickly joining it. Her fingers pulled at the ties and buttons on his trousers. The rise of her demon self already warmed her blood. She would have him hard and quick and—

  Marek stopped her hands and the hard heat in his eyes held her. “Your magic will be mine.”

  Ash sucked in a quick breath, her desire for him rising. She touched his thoughts, a light, surface caress. His want gripped her, but there was something else, something lurking in the shadows of his mind that he wouldn’t let her see. “Marek, we share all that we are.”

  He pushed down his trousers, kicked off his boots and urged her back against the silk-lined wall. The cool fabric brushed her bare spine, her ass and then Marek’s hot hands lifted her, parted her. “I share this,” he murmured, and his cock pressed against her slicked sex.