Page 17 of Bought By the Revenant (Monsters’ Bride Market #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Amity

The world spins above me, and the faces of the villagers blend together into one shapeless mass.

The chanting sounds distant now, as if I’m already halfway to wherever the dead go, but then there’s a roar that cuts through it, and the sheer power of it pulls me back to consciousness.

I look up and see the terror in everyone’s eyes.

“What is that?” someone screams.

The villagers start to scatter in every direction, their organized circle breaking apart as bodies fly through the air.

Something or someone plows through the crowd, and every man who tries to stand against this force is tossed aside as if he weighs nothing.

I see flashes of movement between the fleeing bodies and hear the crack of bones and screams of pain, and finally the crowd parts enough for me to see him.

Riven charges toward the altar, his white hair wild and his glowing eyes blazing with fury.

His stitches strain against his bulging muscles, and every step shakes the ground.

I can’t believe it, but he found me. He came for me.

“Riven,” I cry out.

He freezes at the sound of my voice, his eyes locking with mine across the chaos.

In that moment of distraction, a figure lunges from the side.

Thorne drives a knife into Riven’s ribs, and terror seizes me as I watch the blade sink deep.

Riven staggers, surprise flickering across his face, then looks down at the knife protruding from his body.

The blood that seeps from the wound is darker than a human’s, almost black against his pale skin.

Anger transforms his face, and if he feels any pain, I can’t tell.

Slowly, he pulls the knife from his side, ignoring all the blood.

His eyes never leave Thorne’s face as he moves with inhuman speed, plunging the blade into Thorne’s throat and driving it in to the hilt.

Thorne’s eyes bulge in shock while his mouth opens and closes without sound.

Blood bubbles from his lips as he collapses at the foot of the altar.

His fingers twitch once, twice, then go still.

The Elder stares at his son’s body in frozen shock.

For several heartbeats, he can’t move or speak.

Then a wail tears from his throat, and he falls to his knees.

His hands hover over the wound as if unsure whether to touch it, and when rage replaces his grief, he tears at his white hair, ripping out clumps that fall to the bloodstained ground.

When he finally looks up at Riven, his eyes burn with pure hatred.

“Draug will have his revenge,” he hisses, pointing a trembling finger first at me, then at Riven. “His curse will follow you both until your souls are consumed by eternal darkness.”

Riven looks down at him with a passive expression on his face.

“Run,” he says. “Run now, old man, or I won’t spare your life merely because of your age.”

The Elder hesitates for only a moment before scrambling to his feet and fleeing into the forest, his red robes billowing behind him as he disappears between the trees.

Several men rush Riven from different directions, their weapons raised high.

But my husband moves with deadly grace, breaking arms and shattering legs, tossing bodies aside without apparent effort.

The villagers’ courage falters as they realize what they’re facing.

One by one, then in groups, they retreat, dragging the wounded with them and barricading themselves in their homes.

Silence falls over the grove. Only Riven, Thorne’s cooling body, and I remain among the sacred trees.

Riven approaches the altar, his rage melting into tenderness as he begins to untie the ropes.

“I found you,” he whispers. “I found you.”

I try to speak, but my words slur together. The world tilts and spins, and I can feel my life flowing out through the wound in my arm. I’m losing too much blood, too quickly.

“Thank you,” I manage to say.

He lifts me from the altar, cradling me against his chest. The warmth of his body seeps into my cold skin as he carries me through the village.

Faces peer from windows only to vanish when they see us, and doors slam shut as we pass.

The streets of Witherglen, once so familiar, now seem strange and hostile.

We pass my childhood home, and for a moment I see not the present but the past. My little brother chases me through the streets, laughing as I let him almost catch me.

The peach tree still stands in front of our gate, and I can see my parents there, reaching up to pick the ripened fruit with joy on their faces.

My heart aches with longing at these memories.

Perhaps death isn’t something to fear, after all.

Perhaps it means reunion with those I’ve lost.

Riven carries me to the church. To my confusion, he heads inside rather than continuing toward the road that would take us away from this place.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Portal,” he says simply. “It’s the only way to save you in time.”

The realization dawns on me through the fog of blood loss.

The church has a portal. That’s how Thorne and his men always found me, no matter how far I ran or how well I hid.

I had wondered how three men from an isolated village could have such resources, how they traveled so quickly between cities when it took me days of hard travel.

They weren’t tracking me with some supernatural aid from their god, as they often told me.

They were using technology that most villages could never afford.

Every time they lost my trail, they likely returned to Witherglen through the portal, regrouped with fresh supplies, and set out again when they had new information about my whereabouts.

The bitter irony makes me want to laugh, but I have no strength for it.

All this time, I believed I was running from superstition and ignorance, when my pursuers were using one of the most advanced technologies on Alia Terra to hunt me down.

Riven carries me into a small room behind the altar that I never knew existed during all my years in Witherglen.

The portal shimmers, its surface rippling with colors.

When we step through, the world dissolves into swirling patterns that my weakened mind can’t process.

The sensation is completely disorienting, and for a moment I think it means that my soul is leaving my body.

I’ve never traveled through a portal before.

Then we emerge in what appears to be a library.

Bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling, filled with volumes beyond counting.

I can’t focus on the details as Riven lays me on a couch that probably cost more than a house in my old village.

He tears a strip from his shirt and wraps it tightly around my wounded arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, Amity,” he says. “Just a little longer.”

The library door bursts open, and a middle-aged man with a substantial belly wrapped in a silk robe storms in, followed by a thin servant who wrings his hands nervously.

“This was not the agreement!” the man sputters. “You must pay again for using my portal a second time! The fee is…”

Riven ignores him, lifting me once more and brushing past the protesting man as if he doesn’t exist. We move through corridors that blur together in my fading vision, then out into morning light that seems impossibly bright. Down the road, I see the carriage with Olaf in the driver’s seat.

“To the mansion,” Riven says. “As fast as possible. She’s dying.”

Olaf snaps the reins, and the carriage lurches into motion.

Riven holds me on his lap, cradling me against his chest as the wheels bounce over the uneven road.

Each jolt sends pain shooting through my body, but the pain feels increasingly distant, as if happening to someone else while I merely observe.

The makeshift bandage on my arm is soaked through with fresh blood, and I know Riven wasn’t exaggerating when he said I’m dying.

The thought that hurts most is leaving Riven when he’s already endured so much loneliness.

I’ll become another loss in his long life, another reason for him to hide from the world.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should have told you about Witherglen, about the drought, about why they wanted me dead.”

“Don’t speak,” he says. “Save your strength.”

But I need to explain before it’s too late, I need him to understand why I kept this from him.

“They thought I used magic to save a mother and child during a difficult birth. Then the drought came, and they believed their god was angry with me. I never told you... I’m sorry.

.. I didn’t want to burden you... And I wanted to leave the past in the past. I never thought they’d keep hunting me after you bought me. ”

“None of that matters now,” Riven insists. “Stay with me.”

I try to focus on his face, on those white eyes that once frightened me but now represent everything good and kind in my world.

How strange that what I once considered monstrous now looks beautiful to me.

I want to tell him that I love him, that in our brief time together he gave me more happiness than I’d known in years, but my lips won’t form the words no matter how hard I try.

Darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision.

Riven’s voice seems to come from farther and farther away, as if he’s calling to me from across a great distance that grows with each heartbeat.

I struggle to keep my eyes open, to hold onto his face for just a little longer, fighting against the pull of unconsciousness with everything I have left.

“Please, my love, stay awake,” he begs. “We’re almost there. I will fix you. Please, stay awake.”

I try harder than I’ve ever tried at anything in my life.

For him, I fight against the darkness with every bit of strength remaining in my body.

But it’s stronger than my will, and my body has nothing left to give.

My eyes close despite all my efforts to keep them open, and Riven’s desperate pleas fade into silence as the world disappears.