Soul Hunger Read online

  Soul Hunger

  Marisa Chenery

  Book one in the Ra’s Chosen series.

  As one of Ra’s Chosen warriors, Mehen must protect mortals from the undead who hunt them. Gifted by the sun god Ra, Mehen has never struggled with the task—until he saves a woman from three undead, and finds himself in need of saving. Something about the woman stirs him, and he’s consumed by his need not only for her body, but also her blood.

  Blythe may have been saved by the mysterious man, but her reaction to the feel of his arms around her and the way his eyes wander to her neck don’t make her feel much safer. When she’s taken to his headquarters against her will, she finds herself a prisoner. But when he unleashes passion unlike any she’s ever known, she realizes she’ll do anything to stay imprisoned.

  But Blythe is not who she seems. And Mehen finds himself in the fight of his life to save the woman he loves from the evil that yearns to possess her.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Soul Hunger

  ISBN 9781419926761

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Soul Hunger Copyright 2010 Marisa Chenery

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication May 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.

  Soul Hunger

  Marisa Chenery

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Ag

  Corvette: General Motors

  GQ: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.

  Lamborghini: Automobili Lamborghini Holding S.p.A.

  Mustang: Ford Motor Company

  An Old Legend

  In Egypt of old the sun god Ra held sway, worshiped as the father creator. Each day he rode the skies in his solar barque bringing light to the land. And every night he traveled through the dark underworld until the dawning of a new day.

  During his nightly voyage, Ra faced his greatest adversary, a being of such evil and darkness, people shuddered—the demon god Apep, the eater of souls. Ra and his companions battled the demon, defeating him each night only to face him again when darkness fell once more.

  It is said that one night Apep gained the upper hand, which caused thunderstorms to rage and the earth to shake. Using the chaos he had created, Apep unleashed two evils into the world. Two demons called Sek and Mot were set loose to bring down mankind by collecting souls for their dark master, turning mortals into soulless shells commanded by Apep.

  To counteract Apep’s evil minions, the sun god chose six warriors. He gifted them each with immortality and the powers needed to defeat their enemies. As Ra’s Chosen, the warriors fought the evil that threatened to take over, pushing it back, to stand between man and demons.

  Some say to this day Ra’s Chosen still fight to protect the unsuspecting mortals around them. In the shadows they stalk their prey each night, ever on guard, forgotten by those who they have been charged to watch over.

  Chapter One

  Mehen tracked the people who walked by as he sat at a table at the back of an outdoor patio at one of the bars found in Phoenix’s downtown Copper Square area. He took a sip from the beer bottle that sat on the table in front of him keeping his eyes trained on the crowded sidewalk. Copper Square afforded the ideal place to hunt for the undead. In the heart of Phoenix, the square created ninety blocks of urban living and attractions, as well as businesses. The number of restaurants and bars alone kept the streets filled late into the night. Little did the mortals realize something evil stalked them as they enjoyed their night out on the town. But they didn’t need to know. That was his purpose, to protect them so they could blissfully go about their lives totally unaware of the battles that waged around them.

  He took another pull from the bottle and set it down. The mortals who sat around him gave him surreptitious looks, ready to scatter if he so much as moved. He ignored them. His sheer size tended to spook some mortals. At six-foot-eight, and two hundred and ninety pounds of pure muscle, he stood out in a crowd. Even though dressed in formfitting jeans, tight t-shirt, leather motorcycle jacket and motorcycle boots, all in black, he still drew peoples’ stares instead of blending into the shadows. Mehen knew half the stares came from women who had more than a little interest in him. With his straight, jet black hair hanging just past his shoulders, chiseled looks, pale brown eyes and tanned skin, women forever stared at him with looks of longing. Sometimes he used that to his advantage, but this night he found himself uninterested. He had bigger prey to catch.

  Scanning the crowds, Mehen waited for his skin to prickle, to let him know one of his enemies lurked nearby. He had the duty to fight the demon-kind who only existed to collect the souls of the living for their demon god master, Apep. The mortals they preyed upon who became what had hunted them just added to Apep’s evil plan to escape the underworld. Like a disease it had the hunter as carrier, able to pass on the contagion to its victim. If left unchecked it theoretically could spread through an entire population. He and his fellow warriors had to make sure that never happened.

  There had been times when Mehen thought their battle with Apep’s minions could very well be a losing one. The demons’ numbers only seemed to increase no matter how many of them he and his brothers-in-arms put down. In the end, they always managed to turn the tide. They may not be able to completely eradicate Apep’s undead, but they at least kept their numbers down to the minority. Such was the case now. The pitifully small numbers of undead had Mehen thinking that it would be only a matter of time before the demons tried to change the tide once more. Things had been too quiet for too long. Centuries had passed since the last big uprising.

  Deciding there would be no action to be had this night, Mehen drained what remained of his beer and stood to leave. The mortals pulled their chairs in closer to their tables as he walked past, not wanting to block his path. Mehen barely spared them a glance. Once he hit the street, he headed for the lot around the back of the building where he had parked his bike. It had been over two weeks since he had last seen one of the undead, never a good thing in his books. There had to be something brewing.

  Reaching his BMW HP2 Sport motorcycle, Mehen unlocked the black helmet, chosen to blend in with the rest of his clothing, that hung from the side and put it on. He pulled the dark visor down over his face. Even though night time, he could still see everything around him. He possessed vision three times better than a mortal, a necessary attribute since his prey only hunted mortals du
ring the hours of the night.

  The bike roared to life when he hit the ignition, reminding him why he loved this modern age. He enjoyed riding the bike down the streets as it thundered between his legs. Nothing felt like it. The speed and power combined to form a true adrenaline junkie’s dream. Mehen thought nothing of taking the bike out on a little used street and opening it up to the max when he needed to feel that rush.

  Mehen left the parking lot and headed south to the Warehouse District where he and his brother warriors had taken up residence some thirty years before. The warehouse they had converted into their headquarters sat in an ideal area of the city. The old brick building’s size perfectly hid what it really housed. It sat not too far from the downtown core, and at the time when they had first chosen it, not in a residential area. But that had changed. Over the last couple of years the city had allowed some of the older warehouses to be converted into loft apartments. It could become a problem to have so many mortals living in close quarters, but for now it didn’t concern them.

  Pulling up to the high chain-link fence that surrounded the property, Mehen triggered the gate mechanism with his mind and drove his bike through. He closed it again once inside. Revving the accelerator with a flick of his wrist, he shot across the open pavement until he reached one of the docking bays at the side of the warehouse. He didn’t slow until he’d entered the building.

  Mehen parked his bike next to a shiny black souped-up Mustang. Four other sports cars sat next to it. The others had already returned from their night of hunting. Mehen had a feeling they’d had the same luck he had, otherwise they would still be out.

  He moved to the door at the far end of the room. When he came to stand in front of it, Mehen manually punched in a code on the number pad on the wall. He then placed his hand on the raised piece of stone set into the wall directly under the pad. The needle hidden beneath the stone’s surface came up and pierced his index finger as he pushed down. With a drop of his blood hanging from the very tip, the needle retracted below the surface. A few seconds later the door’s locking mechanism clicked open. Mehen brought his finger to his mouth and licked off the small drop of blood left behind. The pinprick wound healed the instant his saliva touched it. He walked through the door and it locked behind him.

  He had now entered the inner sanctum of Ra’s Chosen. The security system could not be triggered by the mind alone at any of the doors that led inside their headquarters. The stone, a gift from Ra himself, had been their one and only safeguard in the past. Only the blood of the six warriors of Ra’s Chosen could unlock the stone’s protection. The advent of modern technology had meant they could now employ even greater security measures.

  Walking down the long hallway, Mehen reverently touched one of the images of Ra painted on the walls. The walls had been painted to match the color of the stone used for the Temple of Amon Ra at Karnak in Egypt. On top of that, in bright jewel tones, hieroglyphs and pictures of many of Ra’s exploits had been painstakingly hand painted. It had all been done by Takan, one of his fellow warriors. The floor beneath his booted feet was also the same stone color. The overall effect created the illusion of the entrance into Ra’s temple, even though it sat thousands of miles away.

  Mehen stopped at the first door down the hall. Even before he pushed it open he heard the voices of his fellow warriors. They all looked in his direction as the door swung shut behind him. He shook his head. More than one of the men swore in disgust. Moving over to where the others sat at a large wooden table in the center of the room, Mehen slipped off his leather jacket and removed his khopesh, strapped across his back inside a scabbard. The khopesh, a sword that had the upper most part of the blade shaped as a sickle, was the symbol of a warrior as well as the only weapon Ra’s Chosen used to bring down the undead. It was the best tool for the job with its blade made of bronze. For the undead, bronze was their greatest enemy. It took only one cut from such a blade to end their unnatural existence. The sword was so much a part of him, Mehen sometimes felt naked without it strapped to his back.

  Placing the sword on the table, Mehen’s gaze touched on each of the five men who he’d led into countless battles over the ages. As their leader, he felt responsible for each and every one of them.

  The first to meet his gaze was Set, his second-in-command. Mehen had a much longer history with Set than he had with the rest of the warriors. He trusted Set with his life and couldn’t picture not having him fight by his side. They both knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and supported each other in times of need. Both he and Set had been the first of Ra’s Chosen. Because of their reputation as strong warriors, they had been selected by Ra to accompany him on his solar barque each night as the god traveled through the underworld. They alone stood with Ra when he battled the demon god Apep. And they both had been there when Apep unleashed his demons Sek and Mot into the world, the first creators of the undead and the ones Ra’s Chosen had not yet been able to destroy.

  Moving his gaze around the table, Mehen looked at the remaining warriors—Akori, Denger, Kysen and Takan, each a strong warrior in his own right. And each bore the mark of Ra across the back of their shoulders just as Mehen and Set did—a winged sun with the eye of Ra in its center.

  As Mehen studied his friends and allies, he thought how similar they were and how often they’d been mistaken for brothers. All had straight black hair, worn at varying lengths, and tanned skin. Their eyes that had been dark brown at birth had transmuted to a very pale brown, verging on the color of gold. The change had taken place after each man had been accepted as one of Ra’s chosen and received the god’s gift. As well as the shared coloring, they all towered well over six and a half feet tall, their large bodies well padded with muscle. But there the similarities ended because their personalities marked them each as individuals. All of that paled when compared to what bound them together—a commitment to rid the world of demon-kind.

  Mehen sat down next to Set. “From the looks on your faces, I take it none of you made any kills tonight?”

  “Not a one. If I don’t get to use my sword soon it’s going to get rusty with neglect,” Denger said as he curled his lip in disgust.

  Kysen laughed. “Which sword are you talking about, Denger? The one between your legs or the one you wear strapped to your back? If the ladies won’t let you use the first one, there is always your hand. No need for it to get rusty.”

  Denger flipped Kysen off. “Blow me. I have no problems when it comes to the ladies, and you well know it.”

  Akori grunted. “Tell me about it. With you around, Denger, I don’t stand a chance.”

  “Now that is a bunch of crap if I ever heard it.” Set joined in on the banter. “It’s the rest of us poor slobs that feel lucky if we can pick up some of your leavings, Akori. I keep waiting to see if you’ll meet that one woman who will turn you down flat. You know it’s bound to happen someday.”

  Set could always be counted on to say whatever he had on his mind. And he had no qualms about setting someone straight if he thought they were wrong, which had caused more than a fair amount of arguments over the centuries.

  Akori barked out a laugh. “That will be the day Apep comes knocking on the door and asks to be turned over to Ra. Not going to happen.”

  Before the conversation could go any further, Takan interrupted. “I think something is brewing, Mehen. I can feel it. We tracked Sek and Mot here from Egypt all those years ago, and we have yet to find their lair. And it’s been too quiet. They have to make a major move soon.”

  Mehen nodded. Takan was the scholar of the group. Along with his skill with a paintbrush, the warrior was the one who recorded the history of Ra’s Chosen. Over the years he had filled many papyrus scrolls, meticulously writing down everything the Chosen did in Egyptian hieroglyphs, which he still did to this day with only one difference. Instead of papyrus, Takan now filled the blank pages of large leather bound books. And because of his scholarly bent, Takan could be counted on to be the most r
eserved of all the warriors. He hated to be the center of attention. He even kept his hair on the long side, especially in the front, almost as if he wished to keep his face hidden. Mehen could never understand why, though. Takan had no disfigurements or scars that he wanted to hide. He was good-looking enough. Mehen could only attribute it to Takan’s shyness.

  “I feel it as well, Takan.” Mehen shook his head. “It’s too quiet.” The others nodded in agreement. “Something is bound to happen soon, so I want you all to stay sharp when you’re out hunting. Even though we haven’t seen any of the undead it doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. They still have to feed.” The urge to feed and make more of the undead drove the demons.

  “Speaking of feeding,” Denger stood up and headed for the door, “I have to do a little feeding of my own. I’m going to hit some of the bars before they close. Anyone want to join?”

  Akori got to his feet. “I could use a little top off myself.”

  Mehen stayed behind as the rest of the warriors left the room to go to their private quarters located deep inside the warehouse. He absentmindedly ran his tongue across the sharp fangs inside his mouth. Just as the demons they fought, Ra’s Chosen needed to feed off humans. But instead of souls, they needed their blood to keep them strong. Unlike the undead, the Chosen didn’t kill the ones they drank from. The donors found the experience pleasurable, to the point of orgasm. It affected both parties that way, which had the warriors only seeking out women.

  The warriors usually fed once a week, taking only what they needed. But they did not subsist on blood alone. Being very much alive, they needed food as well. Though the word vampire had been used to describe them, they were nothing of the kind. The Chosen could not be affected by garlic or icons from the one god. They did not need to sleep in coffins or fear the sunlight. Only the enemies of Ra had to fear the sun god’s rays of light. For he and his men, the sun strengthened them when injured or weak.