by Aja James
© Copyright by Aja James 2020
Dear Reader:
I hope you will enjoy the tenth installment of the Pure Ones saga on the following pages (Book #12 in Pure/ Dark Series).
Every story has many points of view, many different interpretations and versions of the truth. So what about the perspective from the Dark Ones’ POV? I hope you have a read in Book 2, Dark Longing. And meet Sophia and Dalair for the first time in Book 1, Pure Healing, available in Audible.
Email me at [email protected] to find out more. And follow me on https://www.facebook.com/AjaJamesAuthor and https://aja-james.blog/. I will have free chapters, behind the scenes and other goodies on the Pure/ Dark Ones series.
I love hearing from you!
Enjoy!
Aja James
Contents
Glossary
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Other Books in the Pure/ Dark Ones series:
Glossary of Characters
Character Relationships and Timeline
Glossary
Awakening: test of courage and strength of spirit which leads to the subject, who possesses a Pure soul, coming into his/her Gift, a supernatural power, if he/she passes the test.
Dark One: supernatural being who prefers to live in the night and who gathers energy and prolongs his/her life by feeding off the blood, and sometimes souls, of others. Dark Ones are born, not made. Sometimes confused with the term vampire.
Decline: condition in which, or process of, a Pure-Ones’ life force depletes after he/she Falls in love but does not receive equal love in return. The Pure One weakens and his/her body slowly, painfully breaks down over the course of thirty days, leading ultimately to death unless his/her love is returned in equal measure. Triggered through sexual intercourse.
The Dozen: see Royal Zodiac.
The Elite: six royal personal guards of the Pure Queen.
Eternal Mate: the destined partner to a given Pure soul. Each soul only has one mate across time, across various incarnations of life. Quotation from the Zodiac Scrolls describing the bond: “His body is the Nourishment of life. Her energy is the Sustenance of soul.”
Gift: supernatural power bestowed upon Pure Ones by the Goddess. Usually an enhanced physical or mental ability such as telekinesis, superhuman strength and telepathy. True Blood Dark Ones also possess powerful Gifts. See True Blood.
The Goddess: supernatural being who is credited with the creation of the Pure Ones. She is a deity to which Pure Ones devote themselves. She protects the Universal Balance.
Nourishment: the strength that Mated Dark Ones take from each other’s blood and body through sexual intercourse. Once Mated, they will no longer need others’ blood to survive, only that from each other. Sexual intercourse is required to make the Nourishment sustaining. Nourishment is also what Pure males provide their females as Eternal Mates. See Eternal Mate.
Pure One: supernatural being who is eternally youthful, typically endowed with heightened senses or powers called the Gift. In possession of a pure soul and blessed with more than one chance at life by the Goddess, chosen as one of Her immortal race that defends the Universal Balance.
The Royal Zodiac: twelve-member collective of the Elite, the Circlet and the Queen of the Pure Ones.
Sacred Laws (Pure Ones): One, thou shalt protect the purity, innocence and goodness of humankind and the Universal Balance to which all souls contribute. Two, thou shalt maintain the secrecy of the Race. And three, thou shalt not engage in sexual intercourse with someone who is not thy Eternal Mate. Also known as the Cardinal Rule.
Shield: referred to as the base of the Royal Zodiac, wherever it may be. Not necessarily a physical location.
Sustenance: the strength that Mated Pure-Males take from the Pure-females’ spirit. Once Mated, the Pure-male becomes dependent upon the Pure-female for sustaining his life. If his Mate dies before him, he too will perish. In equal exchange, the Pure-male provides Nourishment. See Nourishment.
Zodiac Prophesies: events yet to come, foretold by the Seer of the Pure Ones through the Orb of Prophesies.
Zodiac Scrolls: events past, recorded by the Scribe of the Pure Ones.
Prologue
There’s pain.
And then, there’s pain.
It’s all relative, really.
As a creature who has endured lifetimes worth of pain with capitalized, italicized, bolded and underlined emphasis, I am intimately familiar with the entire spectrum. From the sting of a needle prick to the slash of a serrated blade.
Did you know that the sting feels more “painful” at first, while there is a delayed reaction to the blade?
Think about it.
The last time you went to the hospital. When it was serious enough to warrant an IV of some sort. Or worse, the insertion of a needle that’s as thick as an icepick? Think about the moment of entry of the needle, the penetration through your skin, the burning sensation of it sinking into your flesh, your veins…
They give humans drugs for the sharper, more lasting pains. The human mind is typically too weak to absorb and endure these shocks to their body without help. Hence, the notion that people go into “shock” when the injury is too great.
But for Immortals…manmade chemical drugs do not affect us.
Vampire venom does. “Magic” does. But these avenues are rarely pursued to alleviate pain, given that they are typically wielded to induce it.
Which brings me to my current condition of unanesthetized, undiluted, unending PAIN.
All right, I may exaggerate a tad. There may still be an end to this. One can only hope.
And pray.
And sob and plea.
Though, of course, it’s a pointless endeavor to do any and all of the above. It will end when she decides to end it. Either when I become what she wants to make me, or my soul finally exits my too broken body with a snarled fuck-you.
But since it started, it hasn’t ended, and it’s been many, many, countless hours.
Or perhaps that’s just the pain talking. Perhaps it’s only been a few. I have no idea.
Every second seems to drag out into infinity. How long is an infinity of seconds to the exponential of infinity? That’s how long it feels since this torture began.
Ironically, I’m sealed in complete darkness in a structure that might pass for a coffin, as it is made to encase my body exactly. I say ironically, because for certain intents and purposes, I am what you might call a “vampire.”
(Humans have the strangest notions about bloodsuckers. Why would any of us want to sleep in a covered box?)
Those of you who know my origins know that my categorization is not that straightforward. I have fangs. I suck blood. But I wasn’t born this way. (I hear an anti-anthem to the tune of Lady Gaga’s single and album by the same name, but I digress.)
There may be an inch between my extremities and the container’s sides, an inch between the highest point on my body (my nose), as I am lying flat, and the cover of my burial box. By the way, if I do die and turn to either stardust or ash—I don’t know which since I’m both Pure and Dark and neither—I’d be conveniently entombed.
See, I know what pain is. As someon
e who’s been strung up by their toenails to hang from a tree until they bled out through dozens of gaping wounds after getting fucked over (literally and figuratively) for hours, I’m what you could call a connoisseur of pain. And now that I have my memories back (oh goodie!), I can compare the alchemy of sensations from my first death to my current predicament, and what could very well be my third and final death.
Physical violation? Check.
There are various dimensions of tubes inserted into various holes of my body. And also into plenty of areas where holes didn’t exist before.
Now think back to that giant needle that you had to be drugged to take into your flesh, and only for a few brief seconds. Imagine that process without anesthesia. Imagine that you’re wide awake but paralyzed.
Imagine that needle is flexible and endlessly long, and it doesn’t stop burrowing inside of you. Drilling into your temple, traveling through your brain. Through your muscle, organs and bones. Exiting somewhere…viciously tender…only to circle back and stab into you again, as if you’re a rag doll getting stitched by giant threads instead of a living, breathing, feeling being.
Say it with me—fucking OUCH.
Psychological torture? Check.
My coffin keeps me suffocated and paralyzed (though the tubes in my body do a bang-up job of that as well). Whether my eyes are open or closed, there is nothing to see. Nothing to hear. The silence in my prison is deafening.
Except for the thoughts she funnels into my brain. I cannot shut those off, just as I cannot escape the remaking of my body.
She is breaking me apart particle by particle, cell by cell. And if her experiment doesn’t succeed, then this will be my un-making instead.
How efficient.
Just one missing ingredient—human, her demonic voice echoes in my head.
But the infusion of human into your body is not simple. I must tear you apart at every level and piece you back together again into a functioning whole.
Try not to die in the process, Creature.
I grit my teeth and lock my jaw.
I can endure this. I must!
I want to become what she is trying to make me. If this experiment succeeds, I could become even stronger than she. If it doesn’t succeed…
No, I can’t think on that.
I must survive this. I must find a way to protect my son.
Since Medusa has been so thoroughly erased from the Universal Balance, you no longer have the fragments of her soul within you. I am well aware of that, Creature—that you are no longer on her leash.
On any leash.
But that will change. I will remake your mind just as I am remaking your body.
No.
No, no, no.
I try to shake my head in denial, but even that small movement is unavailable to me.
I won’t let her control my thoughts. I finally have my soul back. I’m wholly me again. I’m not anyone’s Creature.
I’m Erebu. Son of Tal and Ishtar. I have a sister. A son.
My will is my own, even if my body is trapped. I won’t be controlled that way again. I will fight it with everything I have!
Oh, my poor deluded Creature. Don’t you know that you have always been mine?
Even when Medusa commanded you, it was I who pulled her puppet strings. Any freedom you think you might have now that she is gone is mere illusion.
Test me on this, I dare you. It will be entertaining to watch you struggle not to betray your friends. But you always will in the end.
Never! I won’t!
You brought the Pure and Dark Ones to my doorstep, did you not? You helped them cut off Medusa’s head, eliminating her once and for all.
And freeing me in the process.
Who do you think put the thought in your head? Who do you think put the thought in the Paladin’s head to help you?
No…
It’s not true! Dalair and I are free! Medusa is dead! Dalair is safe!
You will never be free, Creature. None of you are safe. And now you have put the Paladin exactly where I want him.
Let the games begin.
I open my mouth to unleash a furious roar.
But no sound comes out, the tubes in my neck choking me. And even if I could scream my agony and rage, who would hear me?
No one.
No one will save me. It’s pointless to hold out for a hero.
But somehow, some way, I will save myself. I will survive this.
And I will make her fucking pay.
Chapter One
Thousands of miles away, on top of a jagged, soaring mountain whose snowy caps disappeared into angry clouds, someone raised their head and paused.
In the midnight darkness they listened, as a streak of lightning split the heavens, forking through the skies before it descended into the churning seas below.
What was it they heard? Through the earth-shaking thunder and the pounding rain. The slash of wind and the crash of tides.
A low moan of pain.
A ragged, tortured breath.
The echoes of someone hurting, carried to them on stormy gusts.
But, no.
There was no sound beyond the deafening boom of thunder and the sheeting rain. It was all in their mind.
And yet, they listened. They heard.
They could not unhear the unraveling of a kindred soul.
Without conscious thought to guide their actions, the being stepped to the edge of the unforgiving cliff—
And dove.
A moment before the crushing tides would have swallowed them whole, they unfurled their gigantic wings.
With one, two, three mighty flaps, they gained tremendous altitude and speed, their destination unknown. Their only thought was to reach the creature who was hurting…
To assuage the blood rage broiling through them and destroy anyone and anything in their way.
*** *** *** ***
Sophia opened her eyes and slowly blinked the lingering vestiges of sleep away.
Though she’d been awaking to the same sight every time she opened her eyes after brief stolen naps, it never ceased to amaze her that she was really here.
With him.
Dalair.
But…
It was also not Dalair. Merely his shell.
A broken, healing body imprisoned tightly by Rain’s zhen, the sentient strands of her cut hair that felt softer than silk but had the tensile strength of steel cables.
Sophia lifted her head slightly to check his bindings.
Nothing had changed. He was still secured to the thinly-cushioned metal flat bed in Rain’s healing enclosure by his ankles, calves, thighs, wrists, forearms and biceps. The table itself was welded into the concrete floor, overlaid by white marble. It had been free-standing before.
The Elite warriors had taken precautions after bringing back the turned and severely wounded Paladin thirty-six hours ago. No one knew the magnitude of his strength, or if he had any new Gifts besides the ones he was reborn with—hyper senses. They just knew that he’d been experimented on and amped up by their nemeses; they underestimated him at their own peril.
He was one of the enemy now. If he were conscious, he’d do everything in his power to wreak havoc upon the Shield. They’d take him down by force if required.
Sophia’s breath hitched at the thought.
Even now, despite the illusion of peacefulness in the tranquil healing chamber, where she and Dalair were the only two occupants, Chevaliers, the Pure and human soldiers that defended the Balance under the Royal Zodiac’s leadership, kept strict watch on this chamber through infrared video feeds.
Sophia had argued fiercely with Valerius and Tristan just to shut off the full visual displays. She wanted Dalair to have some privacy. He was not the enemy. He was not a prisoner of war.
Even though he was, she admitted to herself.
It was simply the truth. Even when they kept Erebu here, in the beginning, he was watched constantly. Though he was a lot less
threatening than Dalair. Erebu’s mind was his most dangerous weapon, while Dalair was a full-blooded, ruthlessly deadly warrior commanded and controlled by Medusa. He was the weapon.
But it’s different, Sophia’s heart insisted.
Erebu had been Medusa’s Creature. Dalair had been one of them. He was the Paladin of the Pure Ones. He’d fought alongside them, lived with them, was a member of their family for so many years, long before Sophia joined their fold.
In fact, it was Dalair who brought her to the Pure Ones as a human baby in this incarnation. And it was Dalair who changed the course of her destiny back in ancient Persia, during one of her previous incarnations. She’d taken one look at him, and Fell.
Dalair had always been her beginning and her end. And everything in between.
Sophia’s eyes roved efficiently over his body, naked but for a small towel over his groin.
His normally golden-bronze skin had a grayish undertone from blood loss. The dozen or so stab wounds all over his torso had closed, but even his magnified healing powers as a Pure One and the additional strength he’d acquired from their enemies’ experiments couldn’t regenerate his badly ruptured internal organs quickly enough. Not yet, anyway.
Since he’d been secured to this table, he hadn’t twitched so much as a hair. His lips held a bluish tinge, and he barely seemed to breathe.
Sophia had to remind herself often that Immortals could not keep their corporeal form if they died. Pure Ones turned to stardust, and Dark Ones turned to ashes.
Dalair was still alive, though he certainly didn’t look it. He looked like a human corpse.
A jacked up human corpse. Because his muscles remained locked even in repose, the veins in his arms, hands and neck raised like tree roots across the rugged terrain of his warrior’s body. It was a physical reminder that even weakened and close to death as he was now, he could not be underestimated.
