Darkest Sinner

  Darkest Sinner

  The Dark Ones Saga Book 5

  by Rachel Van Dyken

  Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  DARKEST SINNER

  Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  ISBN: 978-1-7336680-8-8

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction

  Table of Contents

  Front Matter

  The Rules Of The Gods

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About The Author

  Also By Rachel Van Dyken

  “No god may be alone with a human woman, it is forbidden.”

  “A god must at all times be fair.”

  “A god shall never intervene in the human plane.”

  “To keep obedience and order within creation—a god is given one soul and will live forever, that is unless he or she gives into their baser instincts and chooses to side with evil. Once the soul gets sick, the god will begin to lose his power. The god will revert to a cursed state and stay there for an eternity.”

  “A god without a soul is lost, a god without a heart—is without hope.”

  “A god may travel out of time if he or she chooses, but must never intervene within the human race if they decide to do so. Traveling to the future is allowed once—the god will be trapped in that time for eternity.”

  Egypt 985 BC

  My eyes were not the same.

  My body was heavy.

  Everything was wrong, something had happened. I stared down at my shaking hands.

  I caught her svelte movement first.

  I was in the presence of power.

  And for the first time in my existence, her smile made me feel like I had a soul, for seconds, in that stare from the goddess’s eyes as she moved toward me—I was alive.

  Why was I here? Did I do this?

  Who are you? My blood pulsed and then settled into a dull roar beneath my skin. This was wrong. Wasn’t it?

  I breathed in the scent of wildflowers and pine as she moved through the pyramid, her silk robes rustled across the pebbles.

  Fire erupted through the torches lining the walls. Light swirled beneath her olive skin as she held up her hand. And in her palm.

  A seed.

  One small seed.

  She waved her hand in front of my face and then opened her palm, the seed had pressed itself into her skin. I watched in awe as its branches wrapped around her arm like tight bracelets, only to stop when they reached her shoulder.

  “Ask me.” Her voice boomed.

  I was on holy ground.

  I should be struck down.

  Demons were not allowed in the temple.

  It was a risk I was willing to take.

  For years I had wandered in that desert, forgetting who I was, what I was, cursed to crawl across the hot sand in search of salvation.

  Cursed to rule a race that wanted nothing to do with me, but there was a before, wasn’t there? I just didn’t know who that person was, and I would die to find out.

  Sell my very body.

  I would rather be struck dead by the Creator than live another day with the burn on my flesh, the need to consume other humans in order to survive, the lust I felt during, the shame that happened after.

  I was of the first made.

  I was the last of the first left.

  And I was alone.

  A man alone is a terrible thing.

  A demon alone is a dangerous thing.

  But a soulless demon alone?

  That is a tragedy.

  It is worse than death.

  I was weak from needing to feed.

  I was tired from my two-day trek.

  And I was thirsty for a life I knew I would never have unless I took it for myself. I wanted to be reinstated to before, even if it meant I was worse off than I was now, covered in dust.

  “Ask me.” Fire lit in her irises as the branches from beneath her skin began piercing through toward me, pulling me close, wrapping me tight.

  This is how I would die.

  I saw it in her eyes.

  Dark kohl bled like tear drops from the corner of each fire-lit eye. She did not blink, she stared through me.

  She would see no soul.

  She would know my shame.

  She would know I was the last of the first.

  She would know.

  I didn’t move.

  Let her see.

  Let her know.

  The branches squeezed around my arms, pinning them to my sides as she watched.

  “Ask. Me.”

  My lungs burned as I screeched out. “More.”

  “More what?” Her head tilted from the left to the right like she was bouncing the idea around.

  “More.” I gritted my teeth. “More than this.”

  “You think you deserve more after the things you have done?”

  “Quite the opposite.” Her grip lessened on my body allowing me more air. “I deserve less—but I want more.”

  “You know what you are asking.” She did not release me, but at least she wasn’t squeezing my lungs into tiny pieces of kindling. “Only the Creator has the power to give you more, to restore you. And even then—I cannot give you a good soul.”

  “So it’s useless,” I whispered.

  She grinned. “I said I cannot give you a good soul—but it is possible to give you one that has been… used.”

  “I want it.”

  “You want what you do not understand,” she snapped.

  “Anything,” My body started to shake; already I was too weak from her presence. Food. I needed food. “I will not survive this—and I will not take my life like the others before me.”

  “You may as well take your own life with what I see in your future.” She laughed, it sounded like screams from the depths of Tartarus. I couldn’t cover my ears. So I waited for her enjoyment to cease.

  “What will you give me for this used soul, Demon?”

  “What do you want?”

  Her smile was cruel. “Entertainment.”

  “I must be misunderstanding you.”

  “I will be watching,” she said cryptically. “For now, take your used soul, and feed.”

  The fires roared around me as the branches broke off and fell to the ground. The goddess was gone.

  The body remained.

  “Help!” The hum
an girl reached for me. “I do not know where I am. I need—” She shook her head as blood dripped down her arm.

  The goddess had left the body.

  But the scars from the seed remained.

  I watched in horror as her body began to convulse, the veins in her arms flashed blue—then black.

  “Feed.” A voice carried across the wind.

  My mouth was on her neck before I could process the thought, I drank deep, and when I felt her life leave, I sucked the remaining parts of her soul and kept them for myself.

  I saw her fears.

  I saw myself the way she saw me.

  A monster.

  And before my very eyes, I became exactly what I always feared I would become.

  Powerful beyond all measure.

  And trapped for an eternity in a man’s body I did not choose, with memories of people’s deaths of which I was the cause.

  My hell was not death.

  My hell.

  Was life.

  TIMBER

  Present Day, Seattle

  The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—one of the most realistic books ever written. It may as well be an autobiography. I scratched my nails across the seed tattoo in the middle of my palm and winced when it pulsed back at me.

  It had a heartbeat.

  Two days ago, it started itching.

  Two days ago, I dreamed of the goddess who cursed me.

  Two days ago, I saw the goddess who had sworn to love me forever only to go back on her promise the minute the goddesses of earth were welcomed back into the realm.

  It was coincidence.

  It was concerning.

  “Stop fidgeting.” Mason my prickly werewolf colleague—he’d rather die than consider me a friend—was currently trying to cut it from my skin, and doing a shit job at it. “I think I have it.”

  His nail dug into my palm deep.

  So deep I had to grit my teeth. I knew it wouldn’t kill me, it was impossible for a demon to bleed out or really die unless they were sucked dry by another supernatural.

  Mason would probably raise his hand first, followed by the rest of the remaining council.

  Each of them had their reasons for despising me. Even though I was on their side, they would always see me as a demon.

  One with a blue soul pulsing inside his body right alongside a very dangerous used one who never seemed to let me forget it.

  I shoved the thought away and jerked as Mason pulled skin from my hand and then held it up front of his face. “You did it?”

  “I’m a werewolf. I can do anything,” he said smugly.

  Searing pain stabbed my skin, running up and down my arm like tiny needles pressing into my flesh over and over again.

  When I looked down…

  The skin was back right along with the tattoo.

  We both stared.

  “Huh.” Mason stood. “Well we tried.”

  “That’s it?” I roared. “We tried?”

  “You could always ask Ethan to bite it off.” he grinned.

  “Yes. A vampire biting my palm sounds lovely. Where do I sign up?” I jumped to my feet and ran my healed hand over my blond, almost white, hair. That was the other problem.

  Changing.

  I felt like I was changing.

  For one, my ever-present horns had completely disappeared. I thought it was because my soul had been restored a year ago, because I had elf blood running through my veins compliments of a shady past and new friends I’d just made in the future, like Hope, the only remaining Elf princess, currently hitched to a male siren who I dreamed of killing on an hourly basis.

  “Any luck?” A male voice that sounded like multiple orgasms and heat piped up, sweeping into the room.

  I glared in Alex’s direction. “Speak of the devil.”

  “I’m much better looking.” He grinned, his jet black hair had shots of orange in it today; it changed depending on his mood.

  “Feeling horny are you?” I pointed to the orange streaks in his hair.

  And got flipped off.

  “Hope’s out with the girls… You know I don’t do well when I go without skin-to-skin contact for too long.”

  “How sad for you…” I said, dripping with sarcasm, “You do know that some people go hours, days, weeks, and yes, years without sexual contact?”

  Alex just looked at me with horror lining every pretty feature, and on cue, the plant near the door started to lean toward him and then it wilted.

  Nature couldn’t help it.

  I was more shocked that he’d mated in the first place.

  I think everyone was.

  A war was brewing. Then again, I’d been alive for thousands of years; a war was always brewing even in times of peace.

  My head suddenly ached with thoughts I didn’t want, with memories that tasted like blood, and with images of kills I couldn’t forget.

  I was born as the first of the demon race.

  King.

  Or so I’d thought—until the tattoo started itching, until I started seeing him, seeing them—so many Pharaohs, the sands of Egypt. See? Disconcerting.

  Power surged beneath my skin, my fingertips buzzed with energy as I sidestepped Alex and made my way outside.

  In a moment of complete insanity, I’d driven to Ethan’s house, where most of the council lived since it was protected by both vampires and werewolves, and asked for help.

  And gotten Mason of all people, gruff, pinecone-eating, long-haired, recently married, Mason.

  I stared up at the stars and wondered how many more lifetimes I would get the chance to stare, when a ticking time bomb was pulsing on my hand.

  “Deep in thought, are you?” Came Cassius’ familiar voice. His purple feathers wrapped themselves around his massive body as he walked toward me like he wasn’t intimidating as hell.

  Part archangel, part fallen, part, who the hell knew? He was the King of the immortals while Mason was King of the actual earth, the soil.

  Alex, well he was the King of sex and himself and something else that none of us ever discussed because it was too painful to imagine how much power he had surging through his body.

  Stephanie, mated to Cassius, was the last remaining true Dark One, a mixture of human and archangel with dangerous powers.

  And a few weeks ago, we had discovered that Mason’s mate was part goddess.

  Basically it was as if the supernatural world had shit all over us in the span of a year just to see what we would do when they changed the game.

  Another shiver ran over me.

  The goddess.

  She’d said she wanted to be entertained.

  Well, what else could she possibly want? We were a complete shit show now!

  “My tattoo seems permanent,” I finally found myself saying as Cassius tucked his wings away until they disappeared into thin air like they were never there to begin with. “So that’s a fun development.”

  “Fun.” Cassius grinned. He rarely grinned. I narrowed my eyes just waiting for a feather to drop from his body and incinerate anything near my feet.

  “Don’t say fun, it sounds strange coming from someone who glares more than he smiles.”

  “You should talk,” he fired back.

  I sighed. “This again?”

  “You’ve been different ever since Mason reclaimed his throne… you flew back to Seattle with your tail tucked between your legs—”

  “Demons don’t have tails.”

  “And you’ve been moping in that dark dungeon you call a house. Stephanie says she brings you food, you don’t eat. Mason offered to hunt for pinecones, I told him no.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Small favors.” Cassius folded his bulky arms across his chest. His pitch-black hair hung down his back, shining like the night sky. Blue eyes seemed to penetrate to my souls, both of them, the good and the bad. At least the good had tamped down the borrowed one. “It will be time to choose… soon, Timber.”

  “Choose?”
My eyebrows arched. “I hope you’re not under the assumption that because I’ve been helping the council that I need to mate like everyone else… I’m fine by myself. I like it that way.”

  Lies. Lies. Lies.

  I was so damn good at lying I scared myself.

  Centuries of practice.

  Something I shouldn’t be proud of but, meh, demon, cut me some slack.

  “We all have journeys. Rarely are they easy,” he said cryptically. “You’ve been running away from yours for a long time.”

  A vision of stumbling through the desert assaulted me before I shoved it away and snorted out a laugh. “This again? Look at me?” I spread my arms wide. “I’m the Demon King for shit’s sake. I’ve been alive longer than half the people in that house. I’ve murdered, I’ve stolen. Don’t for one second think that a little elf with the power to restore demonic souls saved me. I’m beyond saving.” I didn’t realize how much I meant it until I said it out loud.

  A soul didn’t forgive sins of the past.

  It only saved you from a damned future.

  I hung my head and then gave it a shake. “Never mind, I’m going to go home.”

  “Alone?”

  “Well I do have a roommate now thanks to you.” I said in a dry tone. “Whoever thought sending me a werewolf was a good idea?” I held up a hand, forestalling his answer. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll discover and kill them later.”

  “Be gentle. He’s young.”

  “He’s seven hundred years old. He’ll be okay.” I rolled my eyes and stalked off. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I made my way over to my black Ferrari. The engine came alive with a growl, and I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

  Empty.

  So empty.

  I hated that feeling.

  The hunger that accompanied it.

  That was one thing you never learned as a demon, that no matter how many souls you’ve been fed…

  You will always want.

  That was the great cruel joke of being a fallen race.

  You were still lacking in every way, still wanting more. I still craved the taste on my lips as I took a life and relished in their death. Hunger pains assaulted until I had to close my eyes to shut them out.

  And when I opened them, all I saw was red until slowly, the blue replaced it.

  Always fighting.