Her Dark Soul Read online

  Her Dark Soul

  Kim Knox

  A man trapped by magic, an enigmatic guardian, and a virgin who will bind them all…

  Ordered to secure a precious box from the priests of Fausta, Marek isn’t told a virgin ward is part of the deal. Ash’s innocence and need drive him to touch her, taste her, to take the twisted power in her flesh and energize his own. But hidden players force Marek into doing something unthinkable.

  Lucas’ soul has been trapped for four hundred years. His new master demands he invade Ash’s dreams and take her virginity. If he does, the treasure she guards will open. He’s happy to obey. However, he finds her guarded by a man unlike any he’s known in his long life.

  Ash should deny the fire in her blood, remember who and what she is, but something inside her finds both men irresistible. As their lives intertwine, they’re driven to find pleasure, using their unique blend of sex and magic to fight an enemy who would consume them all.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Her Dark Soul

  ISBN 9781419924903

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Her Dark Soul Copyright 2010 Kim Knox

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication January 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Her Dark Soul

  Kim Knox

  Chapter One

  They’d sold her.

  When the sun broke the horizon, a stranger—a custodian—would come and take her from the temple. Ash stared at the quiet colonnades surrounding the small courtyard. The central fountain splashed water into the pre-dawn darkness and the light breeze swept cool air across the marble floor, bringing with it the familiar scents of chamomile and wild jasmine. She’d taken her first steps between the great ceramic pots lining the courtyard. The memory of the cool marble beneath her bare toes, bright sunlight, the laughter and joy as she toddled to Rani tightened her throat. This was her home.

  Ash sank onto a cold stone bench, her thin shift little protection against the chill of the dawn air. She’d grown up in the Temple of Fausta, worshipped the goddess for the good fortune that had taken her from the Street of Cries. Without Rani plucking her from the clutch of abandoned newborns, she would have died like so many other unwanted and exposed babies. Chance had been with her that day.

  She ran her hand over her tightly braided hair and the knot in her stomach twisted tight. She should’ve remembered that her goddess was a fickle creature. The priests had read the signs and she was no longer needed to serve Fausta. She bit her lip, denying the tears that burned in her eyes.

  “Ash.” Rani’s soft voice carried on the dark air. A wry smile lifted her mouth. Yes, he could never sleep. He lifted an oil lamp, its yellow light washing over the stone steps leading down from Ash’s room. “You have to come inside.” He tugged the wool cloak tight around his narrow shoulders and shivered. “It’s too cold to be sitting out here on all this stone.”

  He swung the lamp around the courtyard, stretching its light to the shadow-heavy corners. “And it’s not safe. Those thieves…” His soft voice took on a hard edge, one she’d never heard him use before. Rani was the essence of calm, but the desecration a few days before had all the priests rattled.

  “Breaking into the sanctuary. Almost killing a ward.” He pulled in a shaking breath. “May the dark half of the goddess’s heart find them.” Rani’s curse hung on the chill air. He pressed a long hand to his smooth jaw and closed his eyes. His lips moved, silent, quick and she knew he whispered a counter-prayer over his own fortune.

  He was the one who found little Kia in the sanctuary, her veins cut. Why she’d been out of her room, no one knew, but she was new to sleeping alone in her cell. She had wandered in the night, looking for the safety of her old shared room, and discovered the thieves instead. Only Rani’s inability to sleep had saved her, the goddess’s whim taking him to the sanctuary on his night walks.

  The goddess had added a further kindness. Kia had no memory of the night. Still, anger tightened Ash’s body. Why would the thieves attack a child? The Temple of Fausta didn’t hold anything precious enough to warrant it.

  Ash pushed herself to her feet and her leather sandals slapped against the marble as she crossed the courtyard. She curled her fingers into her palms, the pain of her nails in her flesh denying the twisting emotions gripping her. Anger, fear had her thoughts spinning.

  Her gaze darted over Rani’s wrinkled face, the lamplight casting heavy shadows over his beardless jaw. He was the only parent she had ever had. And when the sun rose, she would never see him again. Her chest hurt and she wanted nothing more than to bury her face against his shoulder, but she couldn’t. She had to accept the whim of her goddess. They all did. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Rani took her curled fist, his long, smooth fingers easing hers free. “I was there for the reading, Ash. The fall of the pattern…” He squeezed her hand. “I would not see you go from here. Never.” He pulled in a heavy breath and his lips pressed together. “But the thieves—and what they did—forced us to consult the goddess.”

  “And I have to go.”

  “The marked ward, yes.” He twitched her a smile, but a heavy shadow darkened his blue eyes. “Kia…” He let out a long sigh. “She’s recovering…but the nurse doesn’t know whether she’ll remember. It will be a blessing if she doesn’t. And then tomorrow I must go to the Street of Cries and bring another to the temple.”

  The duty of choosing always hung heavy on him, Ash knew that and she wanted to ease his pain. She’d been the first baby he’d saved. The marked ward, as she was known in the temple. The ward with the strange birthmark chasing down her spine. Others had stains marring their flesh, but they were nothing compared to the swirl of pattern covering her skin. “Then something good comes from this, from my leaving.” She turned back to the wide steps and Rani’s lamp lit the way. The dark archway led into a short corridor and the door to her cell.

  The first prayer bell rang in the still air and her stomach turned over. Her need to follow the other wards into the great hall, to prostrate herself and begin the first prayer itched under her skin. Since she was four years old, it had been the start of her day. Doors creaked and Yeva and Tamina stepped out of their cells, tying back their hair and stifling yawns.

  Yeva blinked, her dark gaze darting from Ash to Rani. “Ash…?”

  Rani hushed her and stepped aside. “Find your way to the great hall.” He waved them past him.

  Both women gave a brief nod and trotted down the steps to disappear into the shadows. The chatter of you
nger girls, their quickly hushed giggles and the soft murmurs of the priests filled the quiet air. Ash ached to follow, to find renewed comfort in the long days of prayer, of chanting and singing to ensure the good fortune of the emperor and the city of Bukhara. And not to think about the stranger, the man who would take her away from her safe world.

  “Ash?”

  Rani had felt the tremor she’d tried to suppress. “Who is he, Rani?” She paused. They’d kept her safe from the city beyond the high temple walls. From one of the ornate bell towers, she’d squinted down into the chaos of Bukhara and every day thanked her goddess for sparing her from it. The city was wild, decadent, and that was her greatest fear. She was untouched. “What will he expect from me?”

  “Marek is a custodian.” He pushed open her door and hung his lamp on a hook beside the door. The light illuminated her small cell, her bunk, the stand with her washbowl and the low trunk that had held all she owned. Her clothes and the few trinkets given to her down the years now sat in a cloth satchel on her bed. “You packed. Good.”

  Her mouth curved into a brief smile. “It didn’t take long.” Ash’s nerves had her palms damp, but she had to ask him the question that had been eating at her since he’d told her she had to leave. “Rani, am I going to be his whore?”

  The old priest stiffened. “He’s a custodian. A man of magic.” He picked up her satchel, tugging at the straps to secure the contents. “One trusted by the emperor’s house for years.” He gave her the bag, his fingers delaying on the back of her hand. “One trusted by us.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t…” She waved her hand, or tried to with the weight of the bag filling her arms. “You know. The slaves talk…and I’ve seen the way the new ones look at us, at the wards. It’s a hunger.”

  Rani stroked his hand down her arm. “I trust him,” he said. “Custodians are bound to their oaths. To break it would mean expulsion, even death. He knows that you are to remain untouched.” He gave her a smile that she wanted to find reassuring, but her fear made that impossible. “Selling you to him is simply a part of the custodian ritual. It means nothing. He knows part of his duty is to protect you.”

  Ash wanted to believe him. She did. But she couldn’t. The memory of how new slaves had raked their gaze over her body, heat and hunger burning in their eyes, still gripped her, had her stomach tight. One man, Tavio, lean, strong and brown from the fierce summer sun, had watched her as he worked in the market garden. His wiry muscles, the beauty of his sharply angled face drew her to him. He was so different from the pale, soft smoothness of the eunuch priests. His difference pushed an illegal desire through her flesh. She wanted to taste him, to press her mouth to his skin, to feel his strangeness under the light caress of her fingers.

  Ash dug her hands into her bag, Tavio still thick in her thoughts. “He’s a man from Bukhara,” she murmured. “Will expect what a man expects.”

  “He’s a custodian.” Rani turned her towards the open door and grabbed his lamp. “You’re a job.”

  “Why?” She walked forward and the warmed breeze of the early morning brushed her face. Already long shadows cut across the courtyard. It was dawn. Time for her to leave her home. “And why him, Rani? What did the readings say?”

  “Ash…” He said her name with that familiar hint of disapproval and a tear broke from her eye. She pulled in a sharp breath. Rani’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. “Wards are the flesh of the goddess, the priests her thoughts. You know I can’t share more.”

  “I know. And you know that I still had to ask.”

  “Yes, I do.” He pressed a light kiss into her hair and Ash closed her eyes, denying the run of yet more tears. “Marek will take care of you.”

  “For how long?”

  Rani paused. “That too is in the hands of the goddess.”

  “Will I ever come home?” The silence stretched and Ash knew his answer. The hollow pain in her chest threatened to swallow her, but she fought it. A ward accepted the whims of her goddess. No, she would never come back to the temple. “Then we should go to meet this custodian.”

  She slung the satchel over her shoulder and turned into the courtyard. Birdsong greeted her, starlings swooping in the pale sky. All outsiders were met in the atrium at the front of the temple, a guarded entrance and the only access in and out of the temple. Ash headed for it, her chin lifted and Rani at her shoulder. The slap of her sandals echoed as she walked the familiar interconnected corridors, across empty courtyards, past the open door of the youngest wards’ cell. One of the wet nurses smiled at her as she rocked the bundled Phemie to sleep, but then her gaze fell on Rani and the smile faded.

  Ash focused on finding the main doors. Slaves stood at the great brass rings fixed to the center of the heavy, black wood. In unison, they moved, gripping the rings and straining against the weight of the door they guarded. Wood groaned and the slow scrape of the door against the worn marble ran a chill through her blood.

  The atrium, lit by the yellow light of oil lamps, lay beyond.

  “I must leave you here.” Rani’s fingers pressed into her shoulder and Ash skimmed his knuckles. He wasn’t supposed to have a favorite. And he didn’t…officially. Still, they shared a bond.

  “Send me word of Kia, Rani.” Ash knew she asked the almost impossible. The temple followed strict rules about contacting the outside world. “Please.”

  “You are best to put life here from your thoughts, forget us. It will be easier. Trust that Kia is in the hands of the goddess and that She has given you a new path. You must accept Her will.” His silence stretched and Ash listened to the pained beat of her heart. “The first priest will come soon. Go.”

  His fingers slid back from her shoulder and an empty ache filled her belly. Now she had to leave him, leave her life. Forget them. Ash put one foot in front of the other, needing all of her strength to cover the short distance to the open doors. And she obeyed Rani’s wish. She didn’t look back.

  The wide doors framed her and then she crossed into the atrium. Metal hinges groaned, their slow grind and the creak of the wood following her. The doors thudded into place. Ash pulled in a tight breath and fought down the need to cry. She was a ward in the Temple of Fausta, a holy woman. This…custodian…would never take that away from her.

  She stared around the high, blank walls. A corridor stretched away to end in a single, wide door. The city lay beyond.

  “Ah, here and on time. Good. Good.” A small door opened behind her and the first priest, Nelek, bustled through, accompanied by two large slaves. He held a wooden box tight to his chest. “Marek Savada has been sighted approaching the temple.”

  Ash gave the first priest a low bow. She knew she shouldn’t question him, no one questioned the First Priest of Fausta, but her time of obeying him was almost at an end. “Who is this man, lord?”

  Nelek’s pale eyes narrowed and fixed on her. She weathered his hard glare, while her stomach tied itself in knots. “Marek may not be so sympathetic to your constant questions, Ashsara.”

  Yes, he always used her full temple name. Nelek wanted no familiarity with the wards. Never had as he rose through the ranks to the highest position in the temple. “I would like to know more about the man who will own me.” She gave Nelek a polite smile. “Is that so wrong?”

  He let out a slow sigh and his fleshy fingertips drummed against the wooden box he held to his chest. “Marek has been a custodian for decades, has the ear of the emperor’s house and is respected. Bad blood runs through some of the breed of custodians. But Marek, while not a prime within his Order, is not one of them. We, indeed the whole of Bukhara, are very lucky to have him. You must trust in him, Ashsara.”

  Decades. The word brought an unexpected ease to her nerves. He was an old man and an old man’s needs faded. “And the box, lord?”

  “I decided a long time ago that I would only answer one of your questions a day, Ashsara.”

  Heavy thumps sounded against the outer door and Nelek waved one of the
slaves towards it. Ash resettled the strap of her satchel against her shoulder. Her insides still twisted, but the knowledge that Marek was an old man lifted some of his threat. The slave struggled under the weight of moving the heavy bars and the other slave scurried forward to help him pull back the thick door. Light inched into the atrium, a long slice of gold, growing with every heavy breath from the slaves, with the squeal of metal, and the groan of wood, until the door thudded back against the stone wall and opened the temple to the city.

  A tall man, as tall as the eunuch priests, was a dark shadow in the high archway. Ash bit her lip. He stood straight, his outline against the brightness lean and strong. An old man the goddess had smiled on? Was that…

  All thought wiped away as he strode towards them. Ash sucked in a quick breath. The first thought that burned back into her brain was that he wasn’t old. Far from it. She willed her mouth shut, because she wanted to let it gape and simply hang there. Marek the custodian was a man in his prime, with an angled, male face browned by the sun. His eyes and thick hair were the same color, as dark as shadow, matching his heavy wool cloak and solid leather boots. The memory of Tavio paled beside Marek’s beauty and Ash’s face reddened as she felt the unexpected heavy pull of need low in her flesh.

  “Marek.” Nelek hustled forward and gave him a short bow. Marek returned it with a fluid, physical grace that had Ash’s heart beating hard. “Everything is prepared.”

  Marek’s dark gaze moved away from the First Priest to slide over her, impersonal, assessing, and Ash couldn’t help herself, she held her breath. “Nothing was said about a ward.” His voice was as dark, as strong as the rest of him and undercut with a hint of anger. “This changes everything, Nelek.”

  “The goddess has spoken.” Nelek’s light voice sounded pleasant, reasonable, but Ash knew him. He had risen to his high position for a reason. Very few got the best of the First Priest of the goddess Fausta. “And the emperor has placed his seal upon this action.”