Page 47 of Blackheart

Zain chuckled and downed another glass. “I have a deal for you, Elora of Blackheart. Are you in any mood for business, or shall we wait until morning?”

Business. A business meeting in the middle of the night while my friend—kind of—was bound by the Warlock's magic.

“Oh, go on with it,” I droned.

Sitara flinched at my tone, timidly checking Zain’s reaction as if she were afraid for me. He was quiet of course, as his mouth was filled with liquor, not that I particularly cared whether he liked my tone or not.

I had little to lose, and even less patience.

Zain leaned forward. “I will heal you, as it appears you’re injured. I’ll also release Sir Riven. You just have to do one little thing for me.”

I blinked, waiting and restless.

He grinned. “Well, you see, Elora. I've never had the chance to lie with a Blackheart, and that is precisely how I absorb my magic. No ‘blood’ nonsense. I’ve mastered the abilities of nearly all Natures through the act, and other illusion magics as well. I just need to collect a Blackheart, and how lucky we are to meet.”

A feral snarl sounded from across the room.

Riven broke free, charging for Zain. The Warlock’s eyes flared wide before he lifted a hand, blasting his power through the room. Riven smacked into a transparent wall, nearly knocking him down. He regained his balance and tried charging again, but the magic held him. He punched the barrier with ahit that could probably kill most men. He didn’t stop at one. He reared his arm back and slammed his fist again and again and again. Red smeared across the barrier as his knuckles cracked open, slam after slam after slam.

“I’ll break every bone in your body,” Riven barked, shooting Zain a glare sharper than any of the blades mounted to the wall.

Zain lifted his hand again, silencing Riven with magic.

The back of my neck felt warm. Perhaps I should have accepted that drink.

“What will happen to me if I do it? The act?” I asked.

The Warlock's eyes twinkled. “You’ll be weak for a bit, but will regain your strength. I do need to drain a considerable amount in order to retain it for my lifetime, which should be very long after this. I will be the most skilled Warlock in history, thanks to you.”

I glanced around at the paintings on the walls. They were all women of different Natures.

“Did you paint these?”

He smiled proudly. “Yes.”

“And will you be painting me next if I accept?”

“Yes.”

The portraits were each sultry and provocative. Had he painted them from memory, or made the women pose for him?

“You swear on your life that no harm will come to me or Sir Riven? And that you will release us promptly after?”

Zain’s skin shimmered beneath the chandelier. “Of course. I’ll even fix your injuries before you fulfill your end of the deal, so you can rest assured I’m trustworthy. How does that sound?”

“Deal.”

Chapter 16

A Proper Bed

“Warlocks are equally as lustful as they are wicked.”

—A History of Heretics, by Coleson James

Zain preferredI rest and bathe before receiving his new Nature source, and I wasn’t in any position to deny a bath or sleep.

He’d gently handled my thigh, using Lyonheart magic to heal me before sending me off with Sitara. She guided me to a guest room for the night, which was simple, but more than enough.