Page 55 of Sweet Nightmares
He hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”
A wicked and bright smile twisted on Helene’s lips. “Perfect. I found a spell to make you immortal forever. Like me. Will you do this for me?”
“Yes.”
“Take me as I cast the spell.”
“Is that necessary?” he asked.
“No, but your dick makes my power surge within me.”
Jane honestly did not want to know if that was true. Moments later, she had to avert her gaze again. The sounds of slapping flesh and ancient spells drifted through the space between them, and Jane groaned. It felt a little like torture watching the man she cared about sleep with someone else overand over again, watching this rotten woman toying with him over and over again. Helene wove the spell while she rode him.
Although Jane couldn’t see it, she heard all of it. From the pounding flesh to the frantic moans.
It was disgusting, but Nightmare seemed to be enjoying himself, and he no longer seemed coerced—if he ever had been to begin with.
Helene’s voice died out, and all that could be heard was wet gurgling. Jane finally looked back at them. At some point they must have changed positions because now, Nightmare was on top, crimson spilling from him.
Jane gasped, holding her hands to her mouth.
Helene had slit open his throat, and blood poured onto her naked breasts. She let out a moan as if she were enjoying Nightmare dying on top of her.
An evil smile painted her face.
When the light left his eyes, she pushed him off of her, and she stood up, her naked body covered in crimson.
Jane wanted to run over to him and help him, do something. But this was only a memory. She couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t be dead, though. He still had to become Nightmare.
Nightmare jolted awake and sat up. The first thing he did was sink his newly formed fangs into Helene’s neck.
Unlike when Nightmare had fed on Jane, Helene did not get aroused. She got angry. When she managed to push him off, she cursed at him, called him an abomination, and banished him from her side and her court.
The memory shifted, and Nightmare was back in his realm at Castle Wryte. But vampirism looked good on him. He smiled more, laughed more, and his general demeanor was that of contentment and peace. And he looked healthy. His black hair shone with life. His muscles rippled beneath his black tunics and suits. He was thriving, and the people in his town werethriving as well. He was a lord the people loved, and if it were a little strange that he drank some of their blood from time to time, none of them seemed to care because he was good to them.
A lord with honor, integrity, and joy.
Nothing like the man Jane knew today. Although, to be fair, he was still mostly honorable and indecently honest.
He lived for hundreds of years as the lord people loved, until she arrived once more at his doorstep. Helene was an envoy to the human lands, and she had heard about the powerful and merciful wizard at Castle Wryte. Upon learning it was Gavriil she marched into his castle and ripped out his heart with her bare hands.
“I curse you from henceforth to be a man with no heart,” Helene hissed. “You will not know empathy, passion, or love for as long as you have no heart.”
“Why?” he sank to his knees. “What have I done to you to deserve this?”
“It’s not what you have done, but what you’ve become.”
The memory shifted again, and it was another hundred years later. The memories flickered rapidly from one to the next., and Jane gathered that with revenge in his heart and mind, Nightmare had enacted a plan to hurt Helene where it mattered to her most. Nightmare was going to steal her lover from her and turn him into a vampire like himself. He kidnapped Draven Darcy Hawthorne and his twin sister, distant cousins of his, and turned both of them into vampires, starting the first vampire and witch wars. Over the wars, many vampires were created, and their power and strength became something that could rival that of the witches, causing the wars to last until all the witches were eventually destroyed. But during those wars, Nightmare was captured, and fifteen of the most powerful witches in all of the realms, including Helene, used their magic to bind him within a mirror—at the cost of their magic.
Draven and his twin had managed to escape being captured and turned into mirrors, and they continued the war as the leaders of the vampires.
The memories came to rest on Nightmare inside his mirror, looking out at a world that was not New Swansea. It was something different. Something new. A land called Transylvania. Nightmare lured a beautiful blonde woman to his mirror and made her his bride. Together, they established Castle Dracula in Transylvania, creating vampires, making love, and living a life of grandeur.
Jealousy cut through Jane, and she rubbed her chest. Nightmare wasn’t capable of love, but with the blonde woman, he was at least content. Over time, they brought in two more brides, a brunette and a redhead—although Nightmare seemed to have very little interest in ever touching the redhead.
It hurt Jane to see how unimportant she was. She was just like all of his other brides. Used to allow him to leave his gilded prison. Pain ricocheted through her, and she sucked in a strained breath.
The memory shifted, and Nightmare was lying on a couch with his blonde lover, watching a revelry. Suddenly, it all came to a crashing halt. Three tall male figures entered the room: a pair of black-haired twins and a man with golden-brown hair who looked to be related to them.
