Lust Eternal by Sabrina York Page B

I have never lied. Not
to you. Not to anyone.”
    She rounded on him, arms crossed over her chest, quivering
with outrage and, to be truthful, not a small amount of pain. “You always tell the
truth?”
    “Yes!”
    “Then tell me what you did that angered that powerful man.”
    Keeshan paled.
    “Who was he?”
    His lips worked as though he needed to build up the
fortitude to utter the name hovering on his tongue. At long last, he said,
“Duvalli. The Dark Djinn.”
    Aimalee gasped. “The Dark Djinn? From the Ashkahnary Fable?”
It was a famous tale from ancient Arkett, of a poor and humble man who had
unwittingly discovered the scrolls of the Great Ashkahnary Wizard in the
desert. He had sacrificed all—even his family—to become the most powerful
magician of his time. According to the fable, the power had corrupted his soul.
He had become dark. Evil. Irredeemable.
    Keeshan scrubbed his face with a palm. “It is no fable.”
    Aimalee stepped closer, suddenly fascinated. The study of
ancient Arkett was her passion. Like the mythic Atlantis, archeologists and
historians enjoyed debating the existence of the desert country that had ruled
the pre-ancient world. And since little evidence other than anecdotal scrolls
had been found, most assumed it was merely a myth.
    But in a recent dig, Aimalee had found the site, excavated
and recovered key artifacts proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arkett had
existed. She’d written a dissertation to prove it. The myth of the Dark Djinn—the
man who ruled the empire with an iron fist and whose wrath over an unforgivable
betrayal had caused the great sandstorm that consumed the entire civilization
in minutes—had not been included.
    “Have you met him? This Dark Djinn?”
    Keeshan scowled. “Why are you so fascinated?”
    Aimalee shrugged. “I’ve studied him. He is interesting.”
    He paled. Right down to his lips. “He is evil, Aimalee. Do
not even think about him.”
    She threw back her head and laughed. “I’m not afraid of
him.”
    “You should be.”
    “Does he ever come here?”
    “No. I am far too insignificant.”
    “Not so insignificant that he forgot about your
transgression. What was it that you did again?”
    He glowered. “No. He has not forgotten about me. He never
will. And while he doesn’t come here, I am occasionally called to have an
audience with him.”
    “Really?” She tipped her head to the side. “What’s he like?”
    “You do not want to meet him.”
    “I kind of do.”
    Keeshan lurched forward and grabbed her by both shoulders,
yanking her closer. Heavens. Was that panic in his eyes? “Don’t say that.
Please. You do not want to come to his attention. He would destroy you.”
    His intensity gave her pause. If the Dark Djinn did exist—as
Keeshan claimed—and if he had the power to destroy a civilization within
minutes, he was a force to be reckoned with.
    She knew she was allowing the image of this fanciful
creature to overshadow the bald truth. The Dark Djinn had way too much power
and he was not a nice guy. She probably didn’t want to meet him.
    “Is he truly all-powerful?”
    “No one is all-powerful. Even the Dark Djinn answers to
someone.”
    “And who does he answer to?”
    Keeshan shrugged and glanced away.
    “Who?”
    “The Great Djinn.”
    “The Great Djinn of Ashkahnary?”
    He nodded.
    “Have you ever met him?”
    His response was a barked laugh. “No one meets the Great
Djinn of Ashkahnary.”
    “But he is all-powerful?”
    “I don’t know if he is all-powerful but he is pretty damn
powerful.”
    “He could send me home.”
    “Yes.”
    “He could send you home.”
    “I no longer have a home.”
    “What?”
    He raked his hair. “Every person I knew died two thousand
years ago. Every building I ever stepped into has long since crumbled into
sand. Coasts have washed away. Hilltops have flattened. What is home, other
than that?”
    She reached for him. “Oh, Keeshan. I am so sorry.”
    “Don’t.”