Page 14 of Devious Nightmare

And the deliciously spicy parts.

I killed someone just to bring him back. Then, I killed another person simply because he asked me to help him fix a problem.

First, was that awful girl, Jessica. I’ve imagined doing something terrible to her for the way she’s talked about my brother and Blaze. She’s been running her mouth about them and their band for as long as I can remember.

Jessica talks about them like she actually knew them, and spent time with them. She hasn’t. She was a groupie, at best, and was someone who hopped from one band mate's bed to another one. The only reason she spreads lies about them and their music is because, once the band broke up and Blaze died, they had no use for her anymore.

If you ask me, she had that coming. Blaze, my brother, and their other bandmates were the most talented musicians of their time. To downplay their abilities by calling them a bunch of manwhores with instruments — if only I could kill her outside of a dream.

I’ll keep that thought locked away for a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Then, Blaze convinced me that Sheriff Donavan was a bad person, and he needed to die. He didn’t go into detail about the specifics of Donavan’s offenses, but by the genuine concern he had for this man walking this earth for another day, I believed him instantly.

Maybe I’m incredibly naive in my dreams. Or, it could have been that Blaze looked so freaking good in my head. I forgot how attractive he was when he was alive. The pictures online don’t do him justice.

The man is the definition of a rock god. All lean muscles and sharp facial features. Plus, the dark depths of his eyes are endless pools are so enchanting.

Everything about the dream felt so real. The way he touched me. How hard I came for him. The feel of the blood from my victims on my hands.

My mind is seriously a terrifying place. I should probably be concerned about my mental sanity, but I can’t be bothered right now.

I lift my arms above my head and stretch as my eyes slowly flutter open. The sound of the chirping birds grows louder, and I don’t understand why I can hear them so clearly this morning.

But when my eyes are fully open, it isn’t my bedroom that I see around me.

No purple walls or twinkling lights.

No black accent pieces or dark paintings.

No, directly above me is the old weeping willow from the cemetery.

I sit up quickly and look around. I am in fact in the cemetery, and I’m wearing the black dress I tied back together last night. It wasn’t a dream.

Blaze was actually here. The ritual worked, and I got to spend the night with him. I actually killed people, and I had sex with a…ghost.

I’m panicking. My heart is racing in my chest, and my head is pounding from the adrenaline I felt. This can’t be real life.

The memories of last night come back to me with extreme clarity. Blaze appearing through a haze of fog and walking toward me. The overwhelming fear and dread that came along with the sight of him.

How he touched me. Feeling the warm, red liquid flow over my skin. All of the mind-blowing orgasms.

Watching him walk away from me. Following him back to the cemetery when he left. Lying down next to the candles and bones I left here when he appeared. Falling asleep to thoughts of him and dreams of the next time I’d be able to see him.

All of it was real.

I miss him already. I’m not sure how it’s possible to already long for him in this soul-deep way I feel right now, but I do.

I hate that he left, but I will find a way to bring him back again. I’ll look into what he meant when he told me that Halloween isn’t the only night where the veil is thin. Blaze and his damn cryptic messages may be the death of me. Though, it’s why his lyrics are next-level and so good.

How long will I have to wait before I can touch him again? Kiss him? Taste him?

My cheeks flush at the flashes of our carnal touches last night. It’s never been like that for me before. I’ve never felt so completely satisfied by a partner.

I fought so hard against the instant attraction and pull I felt toward him. But in the end, his allure won, and I gave into him.

Well, maybe I didn’t fight that hard. It was barely two hours between when he appeared in front of me and his fingers were thrusting into my pussy. Clearly I’m incredibly easy when it comes to him.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Show me someone who wouldn’t present themselves on a silver platter if their childhood crush came back from the dead and wanted to sleep together. There likely isn’t a person in existence who would give up an opportunity like that. It’s insanity to even consider that.

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