Page 14 of Ravished By the Revenant

Aldric’s sigh carries across the room. “I thought I eliminated them all. Unfortunately, a crone was absent and survived.”

I throw him a glare over my shoulder. “You’re a dick.”

“I am the product of my wealth, station, circumstances, and timeline, little intruder,” he counters shamelessly. “I don’t regret pursuing my ambitions. Though this particular consequence is… crippling.”

“No shit,” I mutter, facing the book spines again. “So the crone cursed you to be a revenant. Which is, what, exactly?”

“It means I am not entirely alive, though I am not entirely dead. My wounds don’t heal. You may have noticed the flaws.”

He says the last few words like they’re as bitter as burnt coffee.

“Mm,” I answer noncommittally. I have, of course, noticed his flaws. Did they stop me from coming on his hand like a hussy? No.

I face him again, leaning against the bookshelf behind me, and cross my arms.

“What else is there? Have you tried to, I don’t know, travel the world, find someone who could reverse it?”

He taps the book on his desk again. The many rings adorning his fingers glitter in the candlelight.

“As I said, I am limited to this property. And the persecutions of witches over the centuries led to their extinction, as far as I know. I haven’t had a servant in decades to bring me news from outside my home.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I found a servant ledger. Why did they work for you? No offense intended.”

“Some taken,” he murmurs. “The only people who had access to Blackthorn Keep were the servants who worked for me when I was cursed and their direct descendants. Over the centuries, that number dwindled to nothing.”

I blink at him. “So, what, no one else came here?”

“No one else could come here,” he corrects, one black eyebrow arched. “Except for you, that is.”

When he leans back and crosses his arms, the fabric of his shirt stretches over bulging muscles with an audible protest. The man is built like a bunker, and I can’t stop ogling him. Then his words penetrate the lust haze in my brain.

“Wait, no one? I guess that explains why Marco and his goons didn’t look for me here.”

Aldric leans forward and braces his massive hands on the desk. Hands that… Nope, not going there.

“Who is Marco?” he demands like a man used to being obeyed. “Why was he looking for you?”

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I don’t want to explain how multiple bad decisions led me into an unwanted engagement with a mobster.

“It’s not important right now. The more important question is, how do I get out of here? Can you help me?”

“No.”

Silence stretches between us for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“Huh?” I finally say, stupidly. “No, what?”

The corners of Aldric’s lips curl into an arrogant smirk. “No, I won’t help you leave, little intruder. In fact, I will do whatever I can to prevent you from leaving.”

My back goes ramrod straight. “Excuse you?”

Aldric doubles down. “You heard me, Clara.”

He stands up and slowly walks to my side. I try to shrink back, meld with the shelves, become a part of some dull, ancient text. But there’s no escaping his magnetic presence. His arms cage me in as he braces his hands on each side of my head. I don’t know whether to look at his lips or his freaky eye.

“Not only are you the first living human I’ve seen in decades,” he continues, his voice low and raspy. “But you’re the first woman who has interested me in centuries. Why would I ever let you go?”

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