The Ink Black Heart Novels & Stories

Each one a precise bruise of ownership that affirms he craves what I give, and I give only what his demanding defiance can bear. I grind the pigment in a shallow bowl, bone-ash and blood, mixed to a thin, glossy black. It smells faintly of distant bonfires and the ghost of ash. The ancient, vicious scent of vows that are meant to last longer than life. The ink stains everything it touches, exactly as it should. He watches me, his heavy-lidded eyes sharp with animal anticipation. His legs are parted, a raw, silent invitation to chaos. “You’re really doing it,” he murmurs. The tremor in his voice is a sound of absolute vulnerability and I treasure every syllable.

“Yes, I try to save you by testing my luck on that thing.” What the Black merchant said perks up his curiosity. He wants to walk and see what’s below but the feeling of a strange paper in his hand attracts his attention. “Hm?” He’s looking carefully at his hand and sees a black paper like a page from some books or scripture. The paper is dark black but written in blood red ink. Every character looks like an unintelligible scribble, but each of them had meaning hidden with unholy and blasphemous untold power beyond mortal mind.

(I wish so) ** The Author POV. Its was a rainy season and the weather was obvious. Drops of rain dropped on the bare ground, cleaning the footprints of mammals. A man and woman could be seen lying on a greenish grasses with their faces up. “Are we going back to the palace today?” She asked , seductively. “Keep quiet , Elizabeth” The man answered, opening his eyes. He was trying to concentrate but she was distracting him. He was wearing a black garment and a trouser to match; the sleeves folded up to his elbows while his hands tucked into his garment pockets, the opened garment showed the toned chest apparent between the folds of black silk. A black jacket was lying across the hills.

As far as I know we are only forbidden to reveal our identity to them, thus I only show myself in disguise. I watched him sleep and every time he is trying to do something bad I try to kill the evil around him. The things are, there are too many evil around him. They love to feed on the bitterness that Harold has in the life he’d been with. The more he harbors it in his heart the stronger they become. We call them Eater, because they only grow when something unholy comes out of the man’s heart. They grow as human desire evil thoughts and even hide anger, lust or any of its kind. Whatever things that are not from the Lord the Eaters were being fed off.

Lyanna said, smiling. "You… you don't have to!" Davis shook his head helplessly. However, it wasn't up to him. Lyanna's hand closed slightly and drew back. There was a squelch as a bloody hole appeared in Davis' chest. Lyanna was now holding a black heart in her hand. "Wow, your heart is actually black!" she said, looking with interest at the beating heart in her hand. "No!" Davis blurted. He reached out to try and snatch the heart out of her hand, but his body was no longer under his control. His vision went black, and he fell to the ground with a thump.

The grand chamber that housed the Crimson Heart was a breathtaking sight. Pillars of polished obsidian rose to meet the vaulted ceiling, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light. In the center of the room, upon a pedestal of black stone, lay the Heart itself. It pulsed with an eerie light, radiating an energy that both mesmerized and terrified Aria. Evangeline, draped in her crimson gown, stood before the Heart, her hand outstretched towards it. A malevolent aura emanated from her, crackling with dark energy.

My vision slowly turned dark but my gaze caught something against his chest. A tattoo over his heart. It was a wolf paw print, simple but very striking against his white skin. It was dark and underneath it, I could make out some initials. N.B. Warmth filled me as the person pressed me against his chest and this time I didn’t fight back the darkness. Exhaustion and pain overtook me as the world around me blurred and everything went black.

Back then, Chuck had thrown down 100 times what she was worth just to win her. Now? No one even placed a bid. The auctioneer's voice cut through the room. "This is the last lot of the auction. She's going back to the underground black market if no one bids!" "Please! Somebody—anybody—buy me!" Lylith screamed, rattling the bars of her cage like a madwoman. When silence answered her, she hurled herself forward, smashing her forehead against the steel. Blood streaked down her face in seconds. Lorrie couldn't watch another second. She stood and muttered to Devon, "I'm going to the restroom."

But it’s all got on garbage. “ Never object me from getting what’s mine. “ He roared against my lips biting where he had bitten last time at that dark corridor. He again started fucking me like a beast and I closed my eyes as darkness came over my head. Anyway, it can’t be true, sure enough, it’s all are nightmares which are caused because that demon has left some piece of his dark shades in my mind and heart. “ Never forget!! Angel, from this moment. You are marked as mine. “

"Reneé runs a syndicate in Italy. She works through politicians, charity organizations, tech firms... but behind the curtain, it’s blood and steel. My father used to call her group La Rosa Nera. The Black Rose." My heart thumped. Lorenzo nodded once. "That’s all?” Cheyenne leaned back with a smug smile. “That’s all I’m giving. Unless…” Lorenzo stood, his chair scraping back. “We’re done.” “You’ll miss me,” Cheyenne called, voice sugary and insane. “You always do.. and please do come back without the whore next time. Maybe I'll remember more” she giggled manically. We left the room without looking back.