Page 9 of Ravished By the Revenant

“Hi? Is someone here?” I ask barely loud enough to carry. I clear my throat. “I’m sorry that I just came in here, but I was running away from… Anyway, I thought no one was here.”

No reply.

With my lip between my teeth and my heart in my throat, I slowly descend to the first floor, lighting candles as I go.

“Is anyone here?” I ask louder as I step into the great hall.

There’s no one on the first floor. Just the wolf on the banner, its eyes glaring at me judgmentally. No one in the garden. Just the crickets stopping their nightly songs once I step outside.

Back upstairs, I test the locked rooms. Not miraculously open. So does that mean the bathtub is miraculously full?

“Are you a magic castle?” I ask the bare walls.

Resigned, I head back to the bedroom I’ve been using, eyeing the ensuite like it grew horns. Would it be so bad to take a bath, though? I’ve been running through the woods, using a chamber pot toilet, rummaging around an old castle… Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Watch my back, Shmoo,” I tell the sleeping furball. Then again, he didn’t seem to be a good watchdog when whoever—or whatever—filled the bathtub, did he?

I decide to keep my underwear on. I’ll wash it and hang it in front of the fire to dry. Even though I’m dressed about as much as I normally am on the beach, I still feel more exposed than I have in a while.

The water is still warm—it must have been near boiling earlier. I sink in and wonder how many buckets of water would need to be boiled and brought here to fill a tub of this size. And how someone could possibly do that without me hearing them and waking up.

I reach for the strawberries and start demolishing them. No point in letting them go to waste. My eyes start fluttering closed soon, my guard down again. I’m warm, I’m clean, I’m fed. But it wouldn’t be safe to fall asleep in the water. I’ll just rest them for a minute.

The next time I open my eyes, my heart stops. A gasp gets stuck in my throat, and water sloshes over the rim of the bathtub as I straighten.

A man is standing in the doorway!

He’s tall… ridiculously tall, and pale, and pierced, and scarred, and he’s glowering at me. But that’s not the worst part. That would be the bare eye socket filled with a glowing blue shard. And the same glow coming through his white shirt just where his heart is supposed to be.

Finally finding my voice, I put it to good use and scream like a banshee.

7

ALDRIC

Iwatched the woman attempt to escape Blackthorn Keep all day. I find it surprising that the curse keeps her confined as it does me—my servants and their descendants were free to come and go, bringing supplies and new livestock as needed. Though I have been alone now for… a long time.

When I heard her tell the cat her fantasies for a bath and strawberries, I couldn’t resist. I warmed and carried each bucket of water upstairs like a gaggle of ladies’ maids. Then I picked fresh strawberries and laid them out next to the bath. All the while, Schmetterling—named so by a servant’s daughter when he was a kitten, though the cursed cat outlived her entire line—watched me with silent judgement. He always was a smug feline. After all, he stayed beautiful while his master slowly decayed.

I observed as the mortal ran from one corner of the keep to the other, searching for… well, I guess she was searching for me. Though the way she’s screaming now makes me think she’d rather I had stayed hidden. Just Blackthorn’s ghost.

“Stop shrieking,” I admonish, feeling more self-conscious by the second. I have seen my reflection on occasion. I know I’m hideous.

The woman screams louder.

Sighing, I step closer to the bathtub, trying very hard to keep my gaze above the waterline. I should be commended for my restraint. A quick glance was enough to show stiff nipples outlined through thin wet fabric.

I raise my hands and speak with what I believe is a reassuring tone. “I assure you I will not⁠—”

The woman scrambles out of the bathtub, nearly falling three separate times. Water spills everywhere, including over my pants and boots. I reach to steady her, but she vaults out and sprints for the doorway, dressed only in translucent, soaked underthings. By Saint George’s lance… I’m not sure I can stand not touching her.

Her bare feet make slapping sounds against the stone tiles as she puts distance between us.

“Wait,” I order, my voice like gravel.

When she continues running, a growl builds up in my chest. She is insolent, far too tempting for her own good, and my patience is running thin. My fists clench and unclench at my sides as I stride after her. In the bedroom, Schmetterling stares at me with the haughtiness of one who hasn’t been touched by time as his master has.

“Fuck off,” I rumble, not bothering to slow down. If she manages to get out of the castle wet and undressed, she’ll catch a fever. I’ve seen too many servants succumb to illness over the years to allow that to happen to the only living human Blackthorn Keep has seen for decades.