Page 2 of Ravished By the Revenant

Aldric’s eyes narrow, his upper lip curling in disgust. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I have nothing left to lose, young conqueror. This will be the final bit of joy I have in my life,” I answer honestly.

Something in my words, or perhaps the way I say them, must convince him that what I claim is the truth, for his expression goes slack. If he were to see himself through my eyes, he would be convinced; there is a glow in his gaze now, one that hails from the other side. The souls of his victims have taken root in his body. He is now one of the undead.

Aldric’s breathing grows harsher with every inhale, a bellow building in his chest. Before it reaches my ears, I am gone.

But he will never forget me. Or my sisters.

1

CLARA

“Clara!”

I pick up speed, dodging low-hanging branches and thick underbrush. My lungs hurt from my panting breaths, my heart racing as I keep pushing my body forward.

“Dove sei, Clara?”

I don’t answer. Obviously. Answering would defeat the purpose of running away.

It wasn’t my idea to marry into the Mafia. Heck, I’m not even sure how I got here—running through the Black Forest in the middle of the night. I know one thing, though. I am not going through with this wedding. I’ve read enough about organized crime to not want to have any part of it, even if it’s that of a hapless, cloistered wife.

My husband-to-be and his goons have picked up my trail fast—too fast. If I can hear them calling for me, then they might be able to see my phone’s flashlight. But there’s no way I can turn it off. Very little light makes it past the tall firs and spruces surrounding me, even during the day. But at night? It’s like falling into a black hole. I need to see where I’m going, or I’ll trip over the first root or fallen log in my path.

I come to a stop before a stream, the air suddenly thick with the intoxicating sweetness of black elderberry. It’s everywhere I look. Locals call it the witch tree, and, well, I could use some magic right about now. Because what am I even doing? Delivering myself like a meal to a wild boar as if I’m Uber Eats? I’m bleeding enough from little cuts and scrapes that I must be a beacon to predators.

Well, I can’t stay here. The shouts are only getting closer, and if I let myself be caught now, then all of this was for nothing. Determined, I step into the stream, cringing when the cold water infiltrates my boots. That’s going to get unpleasant real fast. I need to get somewhere safe and dry and warm. But where? I’m in the middle of the wilderness.

No matter how far I run, my boots squishing with every step, the shouting seems to come closer. I need to hide.

Ironically, just as I have the thought, I get to a clearing, the moonlight shining through unobstructed, illuminating everything it touches. There is no way Marco and his men won’t catch me here—I’m completely exposed. I need to move.

There’s nothing special on one side of the clearing; just more forest and darkness. But the other side… The trees are dead there, their skeletal remains reaching up toward the sky. And above them, on a modest hill, a forlorn, decaying castle. I don’t see any lights or any other sign of life. Though it’s pretty darn late, so if there is someone there, they might be asleep.

I don’t have time to dawdle. I make up my mind in an instant, sprinting across the clearing and toward the looming structure on the hill. My heart is in my throat the entire time I’m exposed, just waiting for someone to shout, “Aha, there she is!”

By some miracle, I make it to the bottom of the hill without being seen. Then it’s time to climb the hill.

“You are like a porcelain doll, Clara,” I mutter, imitating my fiancé’s smooth accent.

I huff and puff, following the overgrown trail leading to the castle. When’s the last time someone pruned here? These thorns make it look like I’m surrounded by razor wire.

“Hair like starlight. Eyes like bluebells. Blah blah blah.”

Okay, I need a plan. And dry feet. Maybe I can find a blanket in the castle that isn’t covered in… On second thought, I’ll refrain from planning. I always wanted to learn to live in the moment. No time like the present.

After what feels like forever, I reach an iron gate topped with lethal-looking spikes. It has to be three times my height.

“There’s no way I can scale this,” I mumble to myself as I look at the gate’s imposing height. “There has to be another way in…”

I brace a hand against the iron bars, turning my head to see which way I should go next. Though I haven’t heard them in a while, Marco and his men could be here any second. Suddenly, I lose my balance, my body tipping forward as the gate opens with a screech of rusted hinges. I yelp, catching myself just as I’m about to faceplant into the worn cobblestones.

That was way too close! Why was the gate just unlocked like this? No chains, no padlock? Weird.

I walk into the courtyard, my steps tentative, my bottom lip between my teeth. Lots of crumbling stone around me, along with stubborn weeds. The castle itself looms above me like an ancient grave marker. The stone is dark, covered in moss in places, and the towers are overgrown with ivy. Rapunzel could climb down herself, no problem. I jump when a shutter clatters above me, drawing my gaze to a beautiful stained-glass window.

Is someone there? Is that why the gate wasn’t locked? Well, I don’t have the luxury of turning back now, so it doesn’t matter. I cross the courtyard and head to the tall double doors, praying they’re not where my luck runs out.