I TRADE DESIRES FOR POWER

5

The rented heartbeat from the Soul-Ledger drummed with a quiet rhythm. The veins in Gavin's right arm were dense, thick with the residual absorption of Kargas’s necromancy from the night before.

"A noble," Abraxas called out lazily from the crystal chandelier. "The scent of white roses mixed with pureblood. But her chest carries a foul curse."

Gavin didn't look up. "A Vane?"

"No. The aroma is far too clean for the Vane dogs."

The silver bell chimed.

A hooded figure in deep blue parted the mist at the doorway. Her gown was draped in a long cloak embroidered with silver thread. Wet mahogany leather boots stepped soundlessly across the wooden floor.

Red text blazed in Gavin's vision:

 

[Name: Tamsin Rhys ]

[Status: Noble of the Rhys Clan / Curse-Breaker ]

[Problem: Erotic Soul Curse ]

[Condition: Blistered Mana Pathways, Severe Lust-Fever ]

The woman halted in front of the cash desk. Silk-gloved fingers gripped the edge of the mahogany wood. Her breaths came in short, shallow hitches, bringing with them a wave of scalding vapor rich with the heavy scent of roses.

"Does this shop... still accept taboo transactions?" Her voice quivered, hoarse with suppressed agony.

Gavin set down his pocketknife. Tuk. "Depends on what you're putting up, Lady Rhys."

Tamsin flinched, her hood shifting slightly. "You... know who I am?"

"I see your clan and the curse scorching your thighs," Gavin said flatly. He gestured toward a wooden chair. "Drop the hood if you want to talk."

Tamsin stood frozen for five seconds, her body trembling with increasing violence. Her fingers pulled the deep blue fabric back.

Porcelain skin, silver hair slick with sweat, and clear blue eyes radiating pure indignation. Her cheeks burned deep crimson.

Tamsin ripped off her silk glove and slammed a silver signet ring engraved with the Rhys crest onto the desk. CLINK.

"I need a Curse Isolation," Tamsin hissed, biting down hard on her lower lip until it turned pale. "This ring is worth ten thousand Sovereigns."

Gavin didn't touch the ring. "I don't need your clan's silver. And your curse isn't some black market poison."

"It's an Erotic Soul Curse!" Tamsin pressed both hands onto the counter, suppressing a moan that nearly escaped her throat. "I got infected when I touched an underground artifact in Soho. Every time I try to channel mana... my chest and thighs feel like they're being consumed by fire."

"And you're terrified the Rhys clan will find out," Gavin interjected. "A clan mage infected with an erotic curse gets reduced to nothing more than political marriage collateral."

Tamsin glared, her face flushing even darker. "How could you possibly know that?!"

"I read the Soul-Ledger," Gavin said, tapping the massive book before him. "Potions won't work. I have to engrave the ward directly onto your skin."

Tamsin stared at Gavin, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Carve a Binding Rune right over the curse's epicenter," Gavin pointed toward Tamsin's chest and thighs. "Back, upper chest, inner thighs. No fabric."

Tamsin took half a step back. "Are you out of your mind?! I am a noble of the Rhys clan! You expect me to strip?!"

"Do you want to be cured, or do you want to let your Magic Core burn to a cinder until you're crawling, begging Soho thugs to bed you?" Gavin cut her off coldly.

Tamsin froze, the words slapping her like a physical strike. The heat in her chest flared again, forcing her thighs to press together tightly beneath her gown. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

"How long?" Tamsin whispered, her eyes fixed on the floorboards.

"Thirty minutes," Gavin stood up. "Back room."

The back room was sparsely furnished with a granite stone slab and a silver censer smoking dimly with incense. The sharp scent of mystic oil filled the air.

Tamsin stood beside the stone slab. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned her blue gown one button at a time. The silk fabric slithered to the floor, leaving only a thin scrap of white lace covering her chest.

Tamsin's flawless skin was covered in burning red veins crawling up from her back, crossing her hips, and tracing down into her inner thighs. Wisps of heat rose softly from her body.

"Lie flat on your back," Gavin said, dipping a silver needle into a vial of black mana ink.

Tamsin climbed onto the granite slab. Sss. The icy chill of the stone made her wince, but the magical fever had her lace-covered chest heaving rapidly.

Gavin stepped closer. Two fingers pressed firmly on the precise spot between Tamsin's collarbones.

"Ngh!" Tamsin arched her back, a sharp gasp slipping out unbidden. The tip of the silver needle pricked lightly into her skin.

"Don't move," Gavin commanded quietly.

The silver needle moved. Srek. Srek. Gavin traced rune lines across Tamsin's skin. The blistered red veins hissed instantly as silver mana from the Soul-Ledger stung its way inside. The needle glided across Tamsin's smooth abdomen, descending toward the crook of her thighs.

Tamsin's body shuddered violently against the cold granite.

"A-ah... Gavin... easy..." Tamsin whimpered, her hands clutching the edges of the stone slab until her knuckles turned white. Sweat slicked her neck and chest.

Gavin kept his jaw set tight. The magical pheromones radiating from Tamsin's body blew thick into the air, stoking raw libido. But the black chains inside Gavin's chest siphoned that heat instantly, pulling it straight into the Soul-Ledger.

Gavin moved the needle to Tamsin's inner thigh, carving the sealing knot right beside the white lace. Tamsin let out a stifled cry, her thighs instinctively clamping shut around Gavin's right hand.

"Open up, Tamsin," Gavin hissed.

Tamsin opened eyes glistened with tears, a flush of utter humiliation spreading all the way down her neck. She slowly parted her thighs, letting Gavin's needle complete the final stroke.

The burning red veins across Tamsin's skin extinguished all at once, turning into faded silver lines before being completely absorbed by her smooth skin.

 

[Curse Isolation Successful.]

[Forbidden Fire Magic Absorbed.]

[Resistance Acquired: Fire & Mental Curse Resistance Level 1 ]

[Magic Core Restored: 12% Operational Capacity ]

Tamsin collapsed back onto the stone slab, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The scorching fever wracking her body vanished, replaced by a profound chill and absolute exhaustion.

Gavin withdrew his hand, wiping the silver needle clean with a cloth.

"It's done," Gavin said. "Your magic is safe."

Tamsin sat up slowly. She snatched her blue gown, shielding her sweat-glistening chest and thighs. Her eyes searched Gavin from top to bottom.

"You didn't touch me beyond what the needle required," Tamsin whispered.

"I'm a Pawnbroker," Gavin replied coldly, turning to push open the wooden door. "Your clan ring stays on the front counter as daily interest. If the curse bleeds back through next month, you know the way."

Tamsin pulled her cloak around herself and followed Gavin to the front room. At the main entrance, she paused for a moment, her hand resting on the dragon-head handle of No. 13.

"What's your name?" Tamsin asked without turning around.

"Gavin."

Tamsin pulled her blue hood back over her head, stepping out to part the cold Soho fog outside. "I'll be back next month, Gavin."

The door closed.

Gavin walked behind the cash desk. On the mahogany surface, the Rhys signet ring reflected the dim light. The Soul-Ledger thrummed softly, channeling twelve percent of total operational strength into his chest.

"One noble house took the bait," Gavin muttered, his fingers tracing the engravings of the silver ring.

He stared out the smudged windowpane. The streets of Soho were pitch-black, but inside No. 13, the game had only just begun.