Page 16 of Bought By the Revenant
“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.
Chapter Nine
Amity
What is this heat that’s building low in my belly?
I open my mouth to invite Riven in, to encourage him further, and I soon feel the tip of his tongue seeking mine. I let out a whimper and grip his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his shirt. It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with a man, since I’ve let a man get close. Close enough that I’d want to share my bed with him.
We kiss for a minute, and Riven starts breathing heavily, panting almost. I might be out of practice, but it seems like he’s had no practice at all. He pulls away, and we stare into each other’s eyes. It’s strange that looking into his endless white orbs doesn’t bother me anymore. After what he’s just told me, I realize I’m looking straight into his soul.
“I’m sorry,” he says, breathing heavily.
I can see his chest rising and falling.
“What for?”
He shakes his head, apparently unable to give me an answer.
