Page 9 of Bought By the Revenant (Monsters’ Bride Market #1)

“I felt the death of each piece as if it were my own. One hand remembered breaking glass before it died. A leg recalled running through mud. The heart remembered stopping… the shock of it.”

I keep watching her face to see when she’ll finally show disgust for what I am.

“When the process was complete and I first opened these eyes, Franklin held a mirror. What I saw...” I shake my head.

“I screamed until my vocal cords became so sore I could barely swallow, let alone speak. A monster stared back at me, stitched together from the dead, animated by a soul – my soul – that should have never been bound to flesh.”

“And yet you continued…” Amity whispers.

I nod. “Despite the pain, despite the horror of my new existence, I found I wanted to live. I wanted to learn. Franklin was a scientist and a kind man. He saw my suffering and devoted himself to improving the process.” I point to the books that fill the shelves.

“I worked alongside him, combining his knowledge with my unique spiritual insight to improve the soul-to-matter transference method.”

I explain to her how I spent centuries making the process better for other revenants, finding ways to make it work without so much pain, and creating results that looked more and more human.

“Newer revenants now look almost entirely human, with only subtle scars marking the joining of parts. They don’t feel the phantom memories I do. They don’t suffer like I suffered.”

“But you...”

“Cannot be remade,” I finish for her. “The process is irreversible. This form, imperfect as it is, is mine until I choose to release my soul back to the cosmos.”

She stays quiet for a long time while she thinks. Then she asks the question that I knew would come eventually.

“These bodies... they’re made from human parts? Dead humans?”

I find it hard to look at her. “Yes.”

“Why? Couldn’t you take another form?”

“A whole, recently deceased body retains the lingering echoes of its previous inhabitant. It’s a strong spiritual signature or imprint.

Our souls, being pure and unburdened by prior physical forms, cannot cleanly integrate with such a dominant existing imprint.

Trying to force our essence into a body already claimed by another soul’s residue would lead to a violent rejection.

While it’s technically possible for a revenant spirit to possess a living body by expelling the human soul, this act is considered highly unethical and a grave crime within our society.

It goes against our fundamental desire to integrate peacefully into the material world. ”

“So, the stitched bodies are a compromise,” Amity reasons.

“Exactly. By taking individual, fragmented body parts, we ensure there is no single, dominant soul imprint to contend with. Each part carries only a faint, isolated echo, which is more easily overcome.” I show her the seams that run across my arms. “The gaps and seams created by the stitching process are not flaws but necessary points of entry and flexibility. They allow our fluid, non-material souls to weave themselves into the new form.”

I stop talking because I’ve told her everything now. The truth of what I am hangs in the air between us, and I wait for her judgment.

“Now you understand what I am, what we are,” I say. “If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you.”

I turn away and hide my face in my hands because I can’t stand to watch her leave me. But then I hear fabric moving as Amity gets up from the table. Her footsteps come toward me instead of going to the door. Her hands pull mine away from my face, and her touch feels gentle.

“Look at me,” she says.

I force my eyes open and gaze down at her.

She’s so small, yet so powerful. In this moment, I’m at her mercy.

Before I can say anything, she lifts herself on her toes and presses her lips to mine.

My whole body goes still. I’m afraid to move or respond.

Her lips feel soft where they press against the hard stitches at the corners of my mouth.

I worry that the rough threads will hurt her skin, or that the uneven texture of my face will make her pull away.

She moves back just a little bit but keeps her face close to mine.

“I see you, Riven,” she whispers. “Not the stitches, not the mismatched parts, but you… your soul.”

Tears fill up my eyes until I can’t see clearly anymore. No one in all my years of existence has ever looked past what I appear to be and seen what lives inside this body. I cry without trying to stop it, and all the centuries of being alone pour out of me in silent tears that run down my face.

Amity reaches up and wipes the wetness from my cheeks, touching me so carefully.

“I’m sorry for everything you endured,” she says. “Your suffering created something beautiful, a way for your kind to exist without harming others.”

“You’re not... disgusted?” I ask in disbelief.

“No.” She takes both my hands in hers and runs her fingers along the lines where different pieces of skin come together.

“I see the nobility in choosing the harder path. You could have taken the easy way, stolen bodies instead of building them. That choice reveals your true nature. Your physical form doesn’t matter.

It’s the choices you’ve made that define you. ”

This time, I initiate the kiss, bending down to meet her lips. I pull her against me, careful of her injured arm, feeling her soft, perfect body flush against mine.