Page 48 of Ravished By the Revenant

Or… what if he knows the odds? What if the cold, strategic warlord part of his brain has already run the numbers and concluded that no other woman on earth is going to look at exposed ribs and a crystal heart and think hot, no one else is going to lick the bone and mean it, so he might as well keep the weird one who does?

I don’t want to be somebody’s only option. Marco chose me because I was pretty and had nobody—no family to object, no friends to warn me. Being selected for lack of alternatives is not romance. It’s logistics.

“You’ve stopped talking.”

I blink. Aldric is looking at me over a pan of sizzling butter, one functioning eye narrowed.

My lips curl into a smile against their will. “I talk constantly. I’m probably talking right now.”

“You have said a dozen words since the courtyard.” He cracks eggs one-handed, and adds the leftover potatoes, chives, the last of the smoked trout. “You spoke more the night you thought I might murder you.”

“Fond memories.” I hop off the table and busy myself with plates so I don’t have to look at him.

He lets it go, which is new for him. We carry everything to the great hall, and I set the table on autopilot.

The food is stupidly good, as always, and I eat and make appropriate noises at appropriate times. Halfway through the meal, he sets his fork down with a clang.

“Clara.”

“Mm?”

Aldric takes a deep breath. “I have interrogated men strapped to chairs who volunteered more than you are volunteering.”

“Wow. Romantic dinner conversation from the eleventh century,” I say dryly.

“Fourteenth.” He leans back. “Something has soured in you since the gate. Tell me what it is.”

I push a potato around my plate for a few seconds before opening my mouth.

“I just don’t know what happens now. The gate’s open. You can go anywhere.” I hate the way my voice sounds right now, but I barrel on. “Everything’s different, and I don’t know what our future looks like anymore, and I hate not knowing things.”

Aldric considers this for a long moment, one eye slightly narrowed.

“Then allow me to resolve the greater part of your uncertainty,” he says. “I have no interest in going anywhere.”

I look up. “What?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You seem surprised.”

“You’ve been locked in this castle for seven hundred years. The door just opened. Most people would at least want to see a McDonald’s.”

“I do not know what that is, and based on your tone, I have not been deprived.” He tears off a piece of bread, like this is a completely normal conversation to have. “I will enjoy walking the forest. I want to see the far side of the lake, the old road to the valley, whether the village I remember left any stones behind. The land, yes. But people?” He shakes his head slowly. “Clara. Look at me.”

“I’m looking. I look constantly. It’s becoming a problem,” I deadpan.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t take the bait. “The curse broke, but my body did not miraculously repair itself. I am still this.” He turns his hand palm up on the table, showing me the naked fingerbones, the missing flesh. “What would you have me do out there? Walk into your century and explain the eye? The glowing ribcage? Queue at your shops while children scream? I have no desire to be a spectacle, and less desire to be a specimen. I have spent centuries being stared at by no one. I find I prefer it to the alternative.”

I blink at him. “So you’re just going to stay here?”

“We are going to stay here.” He pauses. Winces. “If you wish to. What I want is for you to bring your world to Blackthorn Keep. Whatever you require. The water heater. The electricity Tesla failed to make free. The oat milk you mourn. Bring the entire twenty-first century through my gate, Clara, cart by cart. I will carry it up the stairs myself. I have experience with buckets.”

My throat is suddenly tight, and I clear it. “That’s the thing, though.”

Aldric frowns. “What thing?”

I take a deep breath and bare my heart to the monster who owns it. “Aldric, I’m the only woman you’ve seen since the Ottomans were a concern. You don’t have a basis for comparison. What if you love me because I’m just… what was available? What if you’re keeping me because you’ve figured out that nobody else on this planet is going to look at your ribcage and get turned on, so you might as well hang on to the freak who does? I don’t want to be chosen because I’m the only choice.”

Aldric is silent for a few seconds, his expression neutral. Then he laughs and my eyes narrow in affront. Is he mocking me?