Page 13 of Ravished By the Revenant

I slump over, resting my forehead on my crossed arms. I can’t believe I went to third base with a medieval man with missing… bits and pieces.

There was nothing bitty about the pieces he wasn’t missing, though.

“Shut up, you whore,” I admonish my own inner voice.

It’s so slutty. Or maybe I’m the slutty one, letting an ancient warlord DJ me to orgasm.

You’re definitely something. Why aren’t you trying to run away again?

That’s it—I’m punching myself in the face until I shut up.

A rooster does his morning song outside the castle, and I lift my head, blinking into the pre-dawn light. I barely slept a wink tonight. First, the mysterious bath—which should have been my first clue, if I’m being honest with myself—then the mysterious man.

“Think he’ll help me get out of here, Shmoo?” I ask the dozing cat. He opens his eyes and blinks at me, once, slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

I blow air out of my nose and stand up, moving to the bookshelves again. Maybe I didn’t find anything on revenants, but Aldric mentioned a witch’s curse. I run my finger down the spines until I find something I recognize—the Malleus Maleficarum. Also known as the Hexenhammer or Hammer of Witches.

I pull the book out and bring it back to the desk. Within are countless heinous acts that weak men performed on innocent women they accused of witchcraft.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for there.”

I jump at the sound of Aldric’s voice and whirl around. He’s standing in the doorway, looking dapper in suit pants, a black button-down shirt, and a vest. I can’t even see the blue glow that was coming from his ribcage earlier, but his cursed eye is unmistakable. There’s no way to mistake him for a living man.

“W—what do you mean?” I stutter, looking between him and the book spread open on his desk.

He moves closer, carefully, like he’s waiting for me to bolt.

“Heinrich Kramer wrote this decades after I was cursed,” he explains when he reaches the desk. He taps a finger on the yellowed pages. “It is also more of an account of repressed men’s sadistic fantasies rather than actual witchcraft.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself, but that only makes it worse. He smells divine, like cedar and herbs, and it makes me wonder whether he tends to his garden himself. Then again, it’s not like I’ve seen anyone else here. What are the chances of two ancient beings haunting this castle?

Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.

“Where should I look then?”

Aldric smirks and spreads his arms as if indicating himself. “Your answers are right here.”

With that, he saunters around the desk and sits in the chair that must still be warm from my ass.

“Okay then.” I narrow my eyes, considering. “I’m not going to bother asking if witches and curses are real. I have eyes.”

Aldric’s smile widens, though there’s a touch of bitterness in it. Maybe because he only has one eye? I could have phrased that better.

“So tell me who the witch who cursed you was,” I continue. “And why she did it.”

He looks away, breaking our eye contact.

“As you may have surmised from my décor, I was once a warlord.” His tone is self-deprecating. “I conquered territories, seized castles, planted my banners wherever I set off to. This witch’s coven lands were no different.”

I cross my arms and glare at him, even though he’s still looking away. “So you bulldozed through their lands and took them for yourself?”

“What is… Never mind. Yes. I took the witches’ lands like I took everything else I desired.”

Explains the arrogant way he accosted me earlier. I shiver at the memory of the pleasure he wrung from me just with his fingers over my underwear. Aldric’s gaze cuts to me, and his nostrils flare. Can’t his senses be as dead as the rest of him? Well… some of him.

Flushing from head to toe, I turn my back on the revenant and walk to the bookshelves, trying to look like I have a purpose.

“I’m guessing they weren’t too happy about that?”