The Bride He Hates-Chapter 45: The Nightmare Demon

Lyanna didn’t move despite the harshness in Azrael’s voice. Instead, she moved closer, sitting on the chair opposite him.

"How often do you have these nightmares?"

"That’s none of your concern."

"You’re my husband. Your pain is my concern, whether you like it or not."

Her words seemed to break something in him. His rigid posture slumped, and his shoulders fell as he leaned back in his chair. He suddenly looked exhausted, not just physically, but worn down by carrying centuries of burden alone.

"Most nights." He admitted. "For centuries. It started shortly after my turning. I’ve learned to get by on little sleep, to push through them, to suppress them when I need to. But these memories just won’t leave me no matter how much time passes or how powerful I become." He said all this without looking at her.

"What are the nightmares about?" She asked again.

The silence stretched so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. He just sat there, thinking whether to share or not.

"My turning. The pain of it was like dying and being reborn at the same time. My human heart stopped, my vampire nature took over, and the transformation took three days of pain while my maker watched.

I dream about the pain, about her face as she watched me suffer, amused by my screams as if they were entertainment." He paused and took a deep breath.

"I dream about the first time I fed. How the hunger was so overwhelming that I couldn’t stop. I killed an innocent woman because I couldn’t control myself, drained her completely while she begged me to stop. I still hear her voice sometimes, still see her face." His hands were clenched into fists.

"I dream about the battles, about killing, about the violence I’ve committed over four centuries. About people I’ve hurt or destroyed because they threatened me or just because they were in my way." He paused again.

Lyanna waited, sure there was more.

"And?" She asked softly when he didn’t continue.

"About being disposable, about people I cared about forgetting me, leaving me, and proving I was never worth keeping. My maker for tossing me aside for someone more interesting. Friends I’d fought beside for decades telling me I wasn’t valuable enough to stay in touch with."

He finally looked at her, and the raw pain in his eyes made her heart stop.

"About being unlovable, about the fear that everyone who gets close enough to truly see me will eventually know I’m not worth the effort. That I’m broken and can’t be fixed, and damaged beyond repair."

His words were devastating. Without thinking, Lyanna stood up and walked behind his chair. She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension there, and began to knead his tight muscles. Azrael stiffened immediately at the unexpected touch.

"What are you doing?"

"Something my mother used to do when I had nightmares as a child." Lyanna replied, continuing the massage despite his resistance. "It’s touch therapy, probably useless for a vampire who’s been dealing with trauma for centuries, but..."

She didn’t know why she was doing this, couldn’t explain the urge that made her offer physical comfort to a man who had spent months making her suffer. But it felt right somehow.

Azrael remained rigid under her hands, torn between accepting the comfort and pushing her away. Then, gradually, he began to relax. The tension eased slowly. His breathing became regular. They stayed like that for several minutes.

"Why are you kind to me after everything I’ve done to you?" He asked.

Lyanna’s hands froze for a moment. But she immediately resumed the massage.

"Because somewhere under the monster you’ve become, there’s a person who was hurt badly enough to build all these walls. A soldier who was dying and desperate, a progeny who was abandoned, and a man who thinks that weakness means suffering." Her hands moved to his neck.

"Maybe I can see that person more clearly than you do or maybe I just can’t stand watching anyone suffer when I could help, even if they’ve made me suffer. I don’t know. All I know is, you’re in pain, and I’m here, and this is how I can help."

Azrael’s hand slowly covered one of hers on his shoulder. They froze in that position, neither speaking, nor moving. Then after a few seconds, Azrael stood up abruptly, breaking the contact. He walked away from her, putting the desk between them like a barrier.

"This doesn’t mean anything." He said. "Don’t mistake one moment of weakness for a change in our relationship. We’re still what we’ve always been, king and captive, husband and revenge bride."

Lyanna could see the conflict in his eyes, how his hands trembled slightly before he shoved them behind his back. His words sounded hollow, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"Of course not." Lyanna replied, looking at him. "You’re still the cruel king and I’m still your revenge bride. Nothing has changed about our circumstances or our history."

"Sleep." Azrael said. "We both need sleep. The gathering and the Order’s attack have taken a toll on us."

Lyanna nodded and walked towards the door. But she paused and turned back.

"Azrael?"

He looked up.

"Thank you, for telling me about the nightmares. Thank you, for trusting me with that."

"I didn’t trust you with it. I was weak and you just happened to see it."

"If you say so." Lyanna said and then left the study.

She returned to their bed and tried to sleep.

In the study, Azrael stood by the window, watching dawn break over Thornfield. He didn’t return to his desk. He just stood there, his hand unconsciously touching his shoulder where her hands had been, feeling the lingering sensation of her gentle touch that had eased his pain without asking for anything in return.

And for the first time in centuries, he wondered what if being weak didn’t always lead to abandonment? What if someone could see his damage and choose to stay anyway?

This thought terrified him more than any nightmare ever had. But when he finally made his way to bed and lay down beside sleeping Lyanna he couldn’t push away the tiny seed of hope that had been planted in his darkness.

Maybe, he didn’t have to be alone with his demons anymore.