Page 6 of Bought By the Revenant (Monsters’ Bride Market #1)

Chapter Six

Riven

Amity’s arms wrap around me. Her touch is light, yet I feel it everywhere.

This has never happened before. No woman has ever touched me because she wanted to, not once in all my years of living.

Her warm body presses against my stitched skin, and I don’t know what to do.

My arms hang at my sides while I try to understand what’s happening.

Her head barely reaches my chest. I can smell her hair, earthy and clean, and I can feel her heartbeat, quick and steady against my stomach. It’s just a hug, and I need to stay calm. Breathe. Don’t overreact… In fact, don’t react at all, because what if I do something wrong? Stay calm.

So much for my pep talk, because my eyes fill with tears. I blink fast, trying to stop them. This is too much, and I’m not ready for it. I step back and break the embrace. I turn my head, so the shadows hide my face. She can’t see how much a simple touch affects me. She’ll think I’m pathetic.

“I apologize,” I say. “I have… umm… business to attend to. Nell and Fria will show you the kitchen and answer any questions you might have.”

I quickly walk back inside before she can respond, and I don’t look at her at all. I want to, but I don’t. Her mere presence right now is enough to break me.

I hurry down the corridors, barely seeing where I’m going until I reach my workshop.

I close the door behind me and lean against it, finally letting myself breathe out.

The smell of chemicals and old books fills my lungs, but it doesn’t calm me the way it usually does.

I run my hands over my arms, where Amity touched me.

Her warmth still lingers on my patchwork skin.

I walk to a stool and sit down hard, staring at my mismatched hands.

One is slightly larger than the other, and both are covered in the black stitches that hold me together.

These hands have never known a lover’s touch.

These hands have never held someone who wasn’t afraid.

I’ve lived for more years than I can count.

I’ve made scientific breakthroughs that changed everything for my kind.

I have more wealth and knowledge than I could ever use.

But this simple act, a woman’s embrace, has completely undone me.

How lonely am I, how starved for basic human contact, that such a simple gesture moves me this much?

The worst part is knowing it meant nothing to her.

She probably hugged me because she was grateful for the garden, or relieved to escape whatever danger she was running from.

She didn’t embrace me. She embraced the security I give her.

The safety of my house, the grandeur of every room, the kitchen she loves, the garden…

I’m just the monster that comes with all these things.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Master Riven?” Tomas’s voice comes through. “May I enter?”

I think about sending him away, but I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.

“Come in,” I call. I straighten my back and quickly wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

Tomas enters carrying a silver tray with a teapot and a single cup. His stoop looks more pronounced today, his tall frame bent forward. He moves carefully, setting the tray on my workbench without disturbing any papers.

“I thought you might want some tea,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes. This is what we do. He pretends not to notice when I’m upset, and I pretend to believe him.

“Thank you, Tomas. That will be all.”

But Tomas doesn’t leave. Instead, he starts tidying the already clean table.

“The bride seems to be settling in well,” he says. “Nell says she’s quite taken with the kitchen.”

I stay silent and watch his gnarled hands move.

I’ve never asked about his stoop, about the way his spine curves unnaturally and forces him to always look down.

I thought it would be cruel to mention his physical difference when I know exactly how that feels.

But now I wonder if I was being considerate or just afraid.

“She seems strong,” Tomas continues when I don’t respond. “Different from most women I know. There’s a resilience to her.”

“Does it matter?” I ask, and bitterness creeps into my voice. “She chose the lesser of two evils. She was running from something worse.”

Tomas pauses in his cleaning. “Even so, Master. It’s an opportunity for... connection.”

The word hangs in the air. Connection. He makes it sound so simple.

“What do I know about connection? What do I know about being a husband? A partner to a woman?” I stand up and pace the length of my workshop.

The confession comes out before I can stop it.

“Today was the first time a woman has ever touched me willingly, Tomas. The first time in my entire existence. And I didn’t even know how to respond.

I just stood there like a statue.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Why did I even get a bride? I don’t know what to do with her. ”

Tomas stays quiet for a long moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle.

“If I may be so bold, Master, I believe you know exactly why you acquired a bride. The same reason anyone seeks companionship. Because living alone is no life at all.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “She chose me out of desperation. Once she feels safe, once she realizes she doesn’t need my protection anymore, she’ll be repulsed by me, just like everyone else. I’ve seen that look of horror thousands of times, Tomas. Even from my own kind.”

“Forgive me, Master, but I don’t believe that’s true.”

I turn to look at him, surprised that he’s contradicting me.

“I’ve observed the way she looks at you,” he continues, his eyes downcast. “It isn’t disgust I see, but curiosity.”

“Are you certain?” The question comes out more desperate than I wanted.

“I am. I’ve served in houses where masters were truly feared and loathed. I know the difference between a fearful glance and a curious one.” He pauses. “She watches you when you aren’t looking.”

A small, fragile feeling stirs in my chest. I crush it immediately. Hope is too dangerous.

“You’ve served me for thirty years, Tomas,” I say instead. “Yet I realize I know almost nothing about you. Your stoop… how did it happen?”

The question surprises him. He sets down the cloth he was using to polish my instruments.

“An accident when I was a boy. I worked in a noble’s stable. A frightened horse kicked me, breaking my spine. The local healer did what she could, but...” He gestures to his bent form. “I was fortunate to survive, but I could no longer do the heavy work required of a stable boy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have asked long ago.”

Tomas shakes his head. “You didn’t ask because you didn’t wish to make me uncomfortable by drawing attention to it. I’ve always appreciated that about you, Master. You, of all people, understand what it’s like to be judged by appearance.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“After my injury, no one would hire me. They saw only the stoop, not the person. They assumed I was simple-minded or incapable.” A small smile crosses his face.

“Then I heard a revenant was seeking servants. A frightening one, they said, with mismatched parts and glowing eyes. Everyone was too afraid to apply, but I had nothing to lose.”

I remember the day Tomas came to my door. How tall he looked despite his stoop, how direct his gaze was when everyone else couldn’t stand to look at me. He was young, too.

“You never flinched,” I say. “Not once.”

“I had been judged too many times myself to judge another. And I found that what others feared in you was… shallow.”

We stand in silence for a moment. We’re so much alike, and it doesn’t matter that he’s human and I’m not, that he’s my servant and I’m his master.

“We see what we expect to see,” Tomas says finally. “Perhaps it’s time you expected something different.”

I nod, though I’m not sure I fully understand his meaning. What I know is that I feel better now that we’ve talked. He has a calm way about him.

I move to my desk and pull out a small pouch of coins.

“Go to the market tomorrow,” I tell him, handing it to him. “Buy garden tools for Amity. The finest you can find. And seeds… every variety they have. Don’t worry about the cost.”

Tomas bows slightly. “Any specific types of seeds, Master?”

“All of them,” I say. “Buy her the entire market if you can. Anything a midwife might find useful for her work.”

“Very good, Master.”

After he leaves, I stay in my workshop thinking about what he said.

Curiosity, not disgust. It seems impossible, but Tomas has never lied to me.

Eventually, I leave my sanctuary and make my way toward the kitchen.

As I get closer, I hear voices. Nell’s measured tones, Fria’s youthful excitement, and cutting through them both, Amity’s animated speech.

“—if you have cinnamon, I could make a spiced bread my mother taught me,” she’s saying. “Do you think there’s any in the pantry?”

“Master keeps the house well-stocked,” Nell replies. “I’m certain we have it somewhere.”

“And honey? I’ll need honey for the glaze.”

“There’s a jar from last summer,” Fria chimes in. “I’ll fetch it.”

I pause outside the doorway and listen to their easy conversation. Amity sounds relaxed and enthusiastic, nothing like the frightened woman who clutched my cloak at the market. This is who she might be when she’s not running for her life. This is who she might become in the safety of my home.

I touch my chest where her head briefly rested against me. Maybe Tomas is right. Maybe I should expect something different.

I take a deep breath and step toward the kitchen, ready to try a new approach with this woman who chose me when all the others turned away.