Dark Desires_A Novel of the Dark Ones

by Aja James

  © Copyright by Aja James 2018

  Dear Reader:

  I hope you will enjoy the second installment of the Dark Ones saga on the following pages (Book #3 in Pure/ Dark Series). You will soon see that much more is yet to come.

  Every story has many points of view, many different interpretations and versions of the truth. So what about the perspective from the Pure Ones’ POV? If you’re curious, check out the story that started it all, Pure Healing.

  Email me at megami771@yahoo.com to find out more. And follow me on https://www.facebook.com/AjaJamesAuthor and https://aja-james.blog/. I will have free chapters and other goodies on Book #4 Dark Pleasures. And check out Book #2 Dark Longing.

  I love hearing from you!

  Enjoy!

  Aja James

  Glossary

  Blood-Contract: Contract by which a human Consents to surrender his/her blood (and sometimes soul) to a vampire for a promise in return that the vampire must fulfill. The vampire has the choice to accept or reject the Contract. Upon acceptance, he/she must fulfill the bargain or risk retribution from the unfulfilled human soul in the form of a curse. See also Consent.

  Blooded Mate: the chosen partner for each Dark One. Once the Bond is formed between two Dark Ones, it cannot be broken unless a third party has prior claim of blood or flesh. The third party can elicit a Challenge to one of the Bonded Dark Ones to obtain rights to the other. The Challenge is fought to the death. Save in the case of a successful Challenge, the Bond cannot be broken except through death. Blooded Mates do not need to take the blood and souls of others to survive. However, they must take blood and sex from each other on a regular basis, else they will weaken and eventually go mad and/or die.

  The Chosen: six royal guards of the New York-based Vampire Queen, Jade Cicada.

  Consent: a human’s willing agreement to surrender his/her blood (and sometimes soul) to a vampire.

  Dark Goddess: supernatural being who is credited with the creation of the Dark Ones. She is a deity to which Dark Ones pray. It is unclear how or whether she is related to the Pure Ones’ Goddess. See also The Goddess.

  Dark Laws: One, thou shalt protect the Universal Balance to which all souls contribute. Two, thou shalt maintain the secrecy of the Race. Three, thou shalt not take an innocent’s blood, life, or soul without Consent.

  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 depleting 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.

  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.

  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.

  The Great War: circa 2190 B.C., the Pure Ones who had been enslaved by the Dark Ones rebelled against their oppressors en masse. At the end of countless years of bloodshed, the Pure Ones ultimately regained their freedom, and the Dark Ones’ empire lay in ruins with the members of the Royal Hive scattered to the ends of the earth.

  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.

  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.

  Shield: referred to as the base of the Royal Zodiac, wherever it may be. Not necessarily a physical location.

  True Blood: a vampire born of Dark parents. See also Dark One.

  Vampire: 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. Contrary to prevalent beliefs (see Pure Healing), vampires are both made and born. Some vampires are Pure Ones who have chosen Darkness rather than death after they break the Cardinal Rule. Some are humans turned by other vampires. Some are True Bloods that are born of two vampires, more accurately called Dark Ones.

  Prologue

  Spring

  She did not come for me today.

  Or was it yesterday? I lose track of time.

  If I am correct, this is the twenty-first century. Only a couple of decades into it. As to the exact month, day and year, I cannot ascertain. All the hours, minutes and seconds have blurred together in the infinite darkness that surrounds me.

  There is a small opening high up in the wall, either too high or too small to allow me to feel any direct warmth from the sun. But the air that whistles through carries the salt from the sea.

  It is close.

  I can hear the waves crashing against rocks when the tide comes in. In all likelihood my prison tower is directly above the water on the edge of a cliff. Seagulls and other birds call to their mates as they glide through the skies. Sometimes, one of them lands on the edge of the opening high above. I try to scare it away whenever that happens. If it fell from the edge, it would not be able to fly out again.

  No living creature need share my fate.

  There is nothing in my square cell. The floor and walls are smooth, without any edges to dig into or use for leverage. The walls rise from the floor at a slight angle, such that the space must grow narrower the higher the walls reach. Besides the slit in the wall up above, the only other opening is blocked by the rusted iron door that is barred from the outside.

  It opens only to admit her.

  In the beginning when they brought me here, I tried to save some strength whenever I could to find a way around that door, but it is no use. Though the door is old, perhaps original to the tower, the frame around it is new, made of something stronger than anything I have encountered before, encasing the barricade with an airtight seal.

  And besides, I have no energy no matter how I try to conserve it. No meditation could infuse my body with the strength of my will. It is all I can do to continue breathing.

  If this is my punishment for loving a Dark One, then so be it. I do not regret my choice.

  After all, she gave me a daughter.

  If I could fulfill one wish before the Goddess sees fit to release me from this living torment, I would hold them again.

  My beloved Dark Ones…

  Chapter One

  Present day, en route from New York City to Tokyo.

  The guy next to her had cheekbones that could cut glass.

  That was the first thing Ava noticed when she finally got her above-average-sized assets settled in the luxurious first class seat on Japan Airlines.

  Well, okay, the second thing.

  The first thing was his smell.

  Although the word “smell” connoted foul odors, which was not t
he case at all. Perhaps scent would work better the way Ava was thinking about it.

  Or heck, maybe aroma would be the most appropriate description for the way the volatized chemical compounds he produced from scent glands all over his body, more commonly known as pheromones, made saliva pool in her mouth as if she had just been presented a decadent, dark chocolate fudge wrapped in a crisp white chocolate casing with a graceful swirl of raspberry sauce and an elegant sprinkle of hazelnut on top.

  Presented in the haute-couture artistic fashion of three star Michelin restaurant plates of course.

  It was Ava’s favorite dessert, guaranteed to make her mouth water.

  The raspberry and hazelnut details were her mental attempt to match the impeccable, almost inhuman grace and style of the man sitting in the seat next to her, to the dessert in question.

  She’d only had this specific dessert once in an exclusive posh French restaurant when she was attending a conference at the Sorbonne.

  And wow. Just wow.

  The first bite had been better than sex. The second bite more euphoric than the multiple orgasms she achieved with her best friend the Rabbit Habit. And the third and last bite—she could only make the tiny piece of fudge last so long—had her begging for more.

  That was what the man’s smell reminded her of.

  Her internal temperature had already risen a couple of degrees by the time she’d noticed his cheekbones.

  Ava tried to regroup by keeping her eyeballs strictly focused on the screen in front of her as a flight attendant in person and in video went through the safety instructions.

  She was not the most natural when it came to interactions with powerfully attractive men. Irresistibly attractive, rather, if just his smell could make her break out in a heat rash.

  With an IQ of over 200 (genius was above 140 and Einstein’s IQ was between 160 and 190, but who was counting), a PhD and MD in molecular genetics, another PhD in regenerative stem cell science and being one of the world’s foremost experts on these topics at the age of thirty, she should be able to handle a simple human interaction with aplomb.

  But no, sadly not.

  Not when her EQ was well below average and her social quotient was probably not even on the chart—as in, negative.

  Thus, Ava tried to avoid embarrassing herself abominably by focusing her attention away from the glorious male sitting beside her before she caught wind of something even more threatening to her libido than his fragrance and his cheekbones.

  And it was just his personal scent, she could tell, no artificial cologne on top to distort the perfect combination of molecules that wafted from his skin to her olfactory bulbs. Perhaps just a hint of soap, very light and wintry fresh.

  Odor prints were influenced by diet, environment, health and genetics, she knew, and it was as if his smell was made specifically to elicit a force-of-nature response from her.

  It would all be extremely fascinating had she not been preoccupied with hiding her now flaming hot cheeks from view.

  “What would you like for first meal?”

  “What?” Ava blurted, reeling from discovery number three:

  His voice might be the most dangerous attraction of all.

  The man gestured with a slim, long-fingered hand to the attendant who was bending over Ava with a menu of items.

  Ava swiveled around to regard her.

  How long had the model-esque stewardess been there? Probably a good while, since her smile seemed frozen in a grimace on her face.

  Ava quickly chose the least healthy of all her options for lunch, snack and supper, because her motto was that healthy equaled tasteless, and why go through life eating tasteless food? Thus decided, she refocused on the TV screen.

  It was blank.

  Blank was good. Perhaps she could channel blankness into her mind.

  Fourteen hours! She had to tame her libido for eight hundred and forty minutes! That was a lot of time to be simmering fruitlessly in unrequited lust.

  Not for the first time Ava wished she wasn’t so hot-blooded. Maybe it was the Latin heritage. Though genetically speaking, she was one-fourth German, one-fourth Japanese, owing to her Brazilian mother, and one-fourth Scottish, one-fourth Welsh on her father’s side. One hundred percent American, born and raised in the Bronx of New York.

  Maybe it was more nurture than nature.

  Ever since she was a child she always felt like she didn’t quite fit in. She had the looks on the outside, but on the inside, her brain worked in unusual ways. She viewed the world in mathematical equations, chemical cocktails, symbols rather than words.

  But that’s not to say she didn’t feel things. She felt rather too much. She avoided feeling whenever she could because emotions weren’t logical, and she very much preferred logic.

  She could be downright volcanic when her emotions and feelings ran high. It wasn’t as if her hormones operated in overdrive 24/7 or even a small fraction of the time. In fact, she rarely had time to notice, let alone indulge, in physical attraction. But when she did feel those powerful bodily urges… well, she indulged.

  But she’d never felt this magnitude of attraction.

  Keeping her gaze unfocused and her eyeballs pointed forward, Ava dug into the giant hobo bag beneath the seat in front of her, pulled out her iPhone, stuck the buds into her ears and turned up the volume on her favorite playlist.

  But no matter how hard she listened, all she heard was that voice.

  It was what the ocean would sound like if it were male and awakening from a satisfying slumber after a night of mind-blowing sex.

  *** *** *** ***

  She was not what he expected.

  Not that he knew what Professors or Doctors (or whatever one called someone with both PhD and MD as a suffix to their name) in molecular genetics looked like on average, if there was such a stereotype to begin with.

  But he thought they might be…older.

  Gray-haired with glasses and a wizened, wrinkled visage reflecting self-sacrifice (for how else would they have had the time to concentrate on their studies?) and solemnity (for what humor was there in such an analytical, methodological subject?).

  For Ryu Takamura, who had been raised for the first ten years of his life in a whorehouse and abandoned thereafter at a Shinto shrine, formal education—hell—any education seemed foreign and antithetical to his own upbringing.

  Perhaps this was why he always dressed and spoke with meticulous care.

  To any observer, he appeared to be the immensely wealthy heir to a Japanese or Korean conglomerate, living a life of privilege and idleness with armies of servants to tend to his every need. His clothes were of the finest quality and tailored to fit his long, lean body to perfection. His wavy black hair was tousled just so, fuller on top and in the back and shaved closely on the sides to emphasize his aristocratic bone structure, all angles and points liked a laser-cut diamond.

  He was so blindingly elegant, in fact, he could never have been mistaken for a real Asian heir. He represented what their alter egos might aspire to if they could ever look as resplendent as he. Rather like how K-dramas represented the ridiculously good-looking and wealthy on TV with actors who had undergone countless surgeries to mimic perfection.

  If only they knew the truth. Ryu’s lips tipped at one corner in dark amusement.

  He cast a surreptitious glance at the woman beside him.

  She seemed determined to keep to herself and take up as little space as possible though she had plenty of it. She was—Ryu struggled to describe her—a study in contrasts.

  Short. At just over five feet.

  Round. At least where females were supposed to be round. She was extremely well-endowed in those areas, but relatively slim in others.

  Dark velvety eyes like Bambi, full of innocence and ignorance.

  Full, luscious lips like pillows, made for sin.

  Ryu didn’t know whether her instant, palpable attraction to him was a good thing or a bad thing. Her body was still radiati
ng an enormous amount of sexual tension and heat even as she tried to pretend normality and hide in her seat.

  Ryu mentally shrugged. He’d deal with it later if he had to. Usually, such attraction came in handy.

  And he hadn’t fed in weeks.

  But for some reason, he didn’t feel like using her weakness against her. It didn’t seem fair.

  He scoffed mentally. Then again, what did he care for fairness. It wasn’t as if the term had ever been liberally applied to himself.

  Or applied at all, for that matter.

  He closed his eyes and reclined his headrest to a more comfortable position, putting the luscious human morsel from his mind for the moment.

  He had a mission to accomplish. Several actually.

  First, he was following a trail the Russian mob boss left when he hightailed out of NYC after the expansion of the insidious fight club network had started stalling. The Chosen had eliminated one of the heads of the hydra recently, one of their own, in fact, but there were at least two others that they knew of still at large. Their sometime allies, the Pure Ones, had returned from their pursuit of Sergei Antonov with very few clues. But one of them pointed to the fact that Japan was Sergei’s next destination.

  Second, he was to rendezvous with his ex-comrade Inanna and her Mate Gabriel within the fortnight. Being native to the land and familiar with the language, culture and history, having lived it himself over hundreds of years, he might be able to help them in their search for Inanna’s father, whose last and only proof of life was found in Japan, dating to a time Ryu was intimately familiar with.

  Third, the New England vampire queen, Jade Cicada, whom he served as one of her most fearsome warriors, had gotten wind of some nasty development in which humans were experimenting with vampires, even gaining traction with some genetic engineering and splicing of human and Dark DNA together. The next step was cloning.