Aldric
I’ve been watching the woman since she stumbled through the gates. How is it possible that she sees my keep, when for centuries the only people allowed in were the staff and their descendants? Her presence is nearly as baffling as her behavior.
She talks to herself. It would have probably been annoying, except… her voice is like angels singing. It has been too long since I heard anyone speak, but it might just be the most beautiful sound in the German Empire.
I hide in the shadows as she traipses through my home, illuminating small areas with a magical beam of light. Is she a witch, then? It would explain how she navigated past the curse’s constraints. But she looks nothing like the crone who sealed my fate.
My eyes are glued to her pert backside, obscenely displayed by tight riding pants in a pale blue color. Her silvery hair falls straight and unbound all the way to a narrow waist above swells of hips made for me to rest my palms on.
I look down at my scarred hands, at the missing flesh displaying naked fingerbones. My fingers clench into fists. If she were to see me, she would faint.
My blood boils when she appraises my cherished weapons like a hawker at auction. I punch the wall, swallowing back a growl. So she’s a thief!
But no—by the time I calm down, she’s moved past the weapons to look at the rest of the hall.
Perhaps she’s preparing a list of items to steal?
Well, she won’t find any in the servants’ quarters.
I have to fight back the urge to bodily throw her out of my home when she sits on Greta and Konrad’s bed. Has she no respect?
But it has been so long since someone was here. And it’s been even longer since I was inside a woman. I find myself unwilling to oust her so soon.
She retraces her steps and finds the staircase leading upstairs. My sanctuary since Greta and Konrad passed in their sleep, days apart, with no living heirs to take over their duties. I have not had much reason to descend… until her.
She pauses at the painting Lukas painted without me knowing.
After he was thrown off his horse while riding to town for supplies, I had his son frame and display it.
The little intruder bites her lip as she gazes up at it.
At me. Then she frowns and looks at the plaque.
Does she suspect something already? I know things change rapidly outside this castle—my servants told me about contraptions such as bicycles and telegrams—but ‘an ancient, decaying revenant lives here’ is likely not the first conclusion anyone would arrive at.
Especially since witches are no more. Not since the Trials.
Upstairs, she takes a step into my solar, then retreats. Same with the library. What could she possibly be after if not the treasures they hold?
She does fully enter my dressing room. I’ve long since been without a valet, and there is no one alive to wash my clothes anymore, so I have had to make do myself. Thankfully, my well has not dried up over the years, and my clothing is fresh. Is that why she is smelling one of my shirts?
My heart quickens at the sight of her nose pressed against the fabric, my pants growing uncomfortably tight.
I bite back a curse and retreat. Behind the corner, I stare at my crotch, at the evidence of my arousal.
My breath comes out in staccato puffs, and I’m about to ease the strain by unbuttoning my pants when I hear the intruder attempting to open rooms that have been locked for decades. What is she doing?
From the shadows, I see her enter my bedroom with a smile on her face. My mind instantly conjures images of her in my bed, wearing nothing but that smile. I shuffle closer, stifling a groan of discomfort. Maybe I should… relieve myself before the image of her in my bed does so for me.
Instead of commandeering my bed, she lights a fire in my hearth, takes off her boots, and picks up the book I just put down before her arrival. She looks… comfortable.
But if my little intruder knew just how starved for touch I am, she would run out screaming. Not that I would allow it. I already decided she isn’t going anywhere without repaying me for my hospitality.