Being Mrs. Dracula: Being Mrs. Dracula series, #1

By Faith Marlow

When Valeria's hand was given in marriage to the handsome and powerful Count Vlad Dracula, she dreamed of happiness but instead her life was filled with longing for her absent husband, their country ravaged by war.

 

When Vlad at last returned from the battlefield, he was a changed man, an alluring and dangerous creature with a thirst for her blood… and for more wives.

 

For over one hundred years, tales of Count Dracula have haunted and seduced the imagination of readers worldwide. Now experience the story of Dracula from a new perspective, as told by the three women who knew him best.

 

Discover their stories, their secrets, and find out what it would be to love and be loved by history's most powerful vampire in Being Mrs. Dracula.

 

In a marriage that spans centuries, one man shared between three women, love may be eternal but happiness is not guaranteed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweetly Twisted Books
• Release date: Jul 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201555856

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Letter to Jonathan Harker from Abraham Van Helsing

(Delivered in accordance with his directions upon his death on December 4, 1899)

March 15, 1897

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Friend Jonathan,

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If you are reading this, then it would be that I have passed into the sweet hereafter. I apologize for the shock I am sure this must cause you and to poor Madam Mina. Forgive me, friend Jonathan and dearest Mina, but there is something that I must confess, lest I be denied entry by Saint Peter. I reveal this with great shame, the burden of which I have felt heavy in my heart every day and I must confess it, not to a priest but no less a man of God.

Friend Jonathan, I implore you to forgive the weakness of this old man, but that night in Transylvania, I faltered. Yes, I hunted down those foul women that appeared to Madam Mina and myself the night before and to you so terribly months earlier, and threw back the lids to their graves and found them to be sleeping the sleep of death. At once, my mind and heart were unexplainably taken with pity for these poor creatures against my better judgment. I held my stake and hammer above the dark one, placing it to her cold bosom, her voluptuousness enthralling, and drove it deep. The scream she imparted was most terrifying and until the day I die, I will not be able to banish it from my mind and only after I had severed her foully beautiful head did it cease. I went next to the similar sarcophagus at its left and found again another beauty, both dark and sad. My heart grieved for this poor soul, so long banished from the love of God. I laid another blessed stake against her chest and, with gritted teeth, hammered the top as hard as my strength would allow. Her eyes grew wide but instead of a scream, she let loose only a long, sorrowful sigh. Heartache that I am unable to describe was released upon that death as her sigh filled the room and with it the deepest gray despair that I had ever known. I prayed for their souls for a moment before continuing in my butchery, removing the head of this one as well and, like the one before, she simply faded into dust. The fair one that remained in the revered resting place was the most beautiful creature my eyes had ever laid upon, despite her wanton dress and sensuality. I was entranced so deeply that, for a time, I could only stand and stare. I was a fool to think that I could attempt such a feat alone, and a greater one still that I could not reveal this to anyone before now. All these years later, when I think of the vision I beheld inside that case of death, the flaxen curls, full red lips, and fair skin smooth as oriental silk, my heart does yet skip a beat. I remember feeling myself falling into the waking sleep of hypnotism, her eyes binding me as surely as any chain.

Then, as though the trumpets of resurrection, I was woken from my thrall by the remembrance of the horrible ring of dear Madam Mina’s scream. It cut through the fog of my muddled mind and I did not hesitate further. I placed the lid back on this unholy beauty and placed a portion of Sacred Wafer on the lid as I had already done inside the tomb of their master, marked by his family name. I know not what transpired after this since I hurried away to Madam Mina before the siren’s call could grasp me once more. The entrapment of the Sacred Wafer held until we made good our escape since we did not encounter her wrath for killing her unholy mate and her wicked sisters.

When we returned to that most accursed place in seven years, I crept back into the lair of these temptresses and was determined, despite my shame, if I discovered she still dwelled there, I would call upon the courage of my dear friends and we would end her miserable life. Alas, she was gone, so long that the foul smell no longer lingered in the room. In the stead of the devilish beauty in the tomb was an unassuming small book and, upon opening it, I discovered it to be a journal. I took it, hid it in my coat pocket, and returned home, saying naught a word in my shame. I later returned alone to Transylvania in secret and, by following the clues written within this strange account, I discovered another journal by this bride, this first bride, this Valeria, and similar diaries by his two dark ones. I studied these works extensively and used clues found within to track down more diaries and journals across the breadth of Europe. Some were left in abandoned homes, in a dresser drawer or under floorboards. Another I ransomed from the descendant of a slayer that had once pursued them. I compiled these books into a chronological order to better reveal the events of their unnatural lives. So it is on this day, July fifteenth in the Year of our Lord eighteen-hundred and ninety-seven, I place the diaries and my translation into a parcel, along with this letter, so it will be received by you now, the date of my death which remains unknown to me.

I do not believe she will trouble you or dear Mina, as she has not done so to date of writing this letter. I trust much fear is within her un-beating heart for those who killed her dark husband and sisters, and I do not think this lesser demon wishes to trifle with any of you, my brave friends. I hope this gives you some kind of comfort.

I beg you to forgive me, friend Jonathan and dearest Madam Mina. I was indeed a fool, but my failure has haunted my days and nights since that night and I do not wish to carry the burden into death. I pray now that you will forgive me then, when it is time that you should receive this letter. Pray pity upon the soul of a weak old man as I have prayed for a blessed life for you both and young Quincey every day of my earthly life and will, if it does please our good Lord, look upon you protectively from Heaven until it is that we should be reunited there.

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Your friend,

Van Helsing

Jonathan Harker’s Journal

4 December— The great man, Abraham Van Helsing, is dead. The light of the world is dimmer for its loss, and the Harker household will most certainly mourn his death. Mina retired early, tired with grief and sick with emotion. Little Quincey was already asleep, thankfully. It will give me time to think of how to best tell him. His little heart will be broken, its first such injury, for Van Helsing was like family to us all, but to Quincey, he was like a grandfather or dearest uncle. However broken my heart may be, my grief is somewhat overshadowed with the dread knowledge held in my late mentor’s letter. For the love of all that is holy, does this foul woman still live? I had rested well over the years with the knowledge that the Count and his ilk had been blotted from the face of God’s good earth. I have slept well and rarely would the memories of those horrible days come back to haunt me or Mina. If this damned creature does yet live, she has been quiet in her hunting. My trained senses have not detected any sign of her in print, wire, or by word of mouth. So, for now, at least, I believe I will bear this burden of knowledge in silence and spare poor Mina the worry and my departed friend further shame. I will hide these journals, just as the great man did himself. Rest thee well, dear doctor, to you I owe all that I hold dear.

CHAPTER ONE

THE FIRST WIFE

Diary of Countess Valeria Karajan-Dracula

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21 May 1460— What a wonderful treasure I did discover in this diary, tucked inside my dress trunk by my dear mother. I think I shall write the events of the last few days to keep them forever fresh in my mind. To forget them would be a sin. When this beautifully bound book was purchased for me, I was the daughter of a lord, but now as I write, I am the wife of Count Dracula of Transylvania. Countess Dracula, the name seems so strange and yet I wear it with such pride. The Count has brought so much change to the country, done so much good for his people. His ways do sometimes terrify me, but I cannot forget he works for the greater good, though his ways may be wicked. Father was wise to align our family with him so soon into his reign; to be my husband’s enemy is to be a fool.

But what a sinful wife I am for writing such gossip of my husband. Though he may meet his enemy with an iron fist, he certainly wears a silk glove where I am concerned. He was ever so patient at our wedding, despite the long road that waited ahead of us to return to his castle the next day. And it was such a beautiful wedding! The chapel was bedecked in all manner of spring flowers and Father had spared no expense in my beautiful dress. Vlad said that I looked like a gilded flower. We danced, ate, and drank ourselves merry.

I must admit that my nerves were beginning to get the better of me by the evening, knowing that soon we would be alone together for the first time as husband and wife. I am so thankful that this was not an altogether arranged marriage. I had grown quite fond of Vlad by the time we were to be married, and though our courtship was brief, he spoke with me sincerely and put my mind at ease. My husband proved himself to be a gentleman once more when he chose to sleep in the guest quarters instead of in my chambers on our wedding night, in respect to my father’s house. I was relieved for this gesture, for I was ever so tired from our celebrations. It allowed me one last night to simply be a daughter in my father’s house, to say goodbye to childish things, and to prepare myself to be the Countess of my own house.

We left for Castle Dracula early yesterday morning and arrived that evening. The countryside was beautiful, as is to be expected of Transylvania in the spring, and the air was filled with the sounds and scents of a region foreign to me, but that is now my home.

The servants had been hard at work while the master of the house was away, leaving nothing undone upon our arrival. An enormous feast that rivaled that of our wedding celebration was prepared and kept warm. My dear husband said that he wanted to be certain that I had anything that I could desire for supper on my first night as the Countess of his castle. As we dined, the Count informed me of many things concerning the goings on of the castle and its staff, many of which had served the Dracula family for generations.

The nervous quiver in my stomach returned as the maid led me through the winding hallways of the castle to the bedchamber I was to share with my husband, but Vlad stopped us halfway there and instead took me up the staircase that led up to the battlement. The mountain night air was cool and crisp and a gentle breeze blew through the dense forest that surrounds the castle. The full moon shed her light across the landscape and with the swaying trees, it looked as though our home was a great ship afloat in the middle of a dark ocean. My husband stood by my side and quietly took my hand as we looked across our land. His chest was full of pride, no doubt because his heart is so full of love for this wilderness and its people. He is their guardian, the protector of their ways against the world beyond these trees. After a few moments of silence, he turned to me and brushed my cheek with his hand and told me that he hoped I would be happy here, that all I could see was mine and that I was to want for nothing.

It is not for a lady to speak of what happened after this tender moment, though glorious it may have been, but to record my memories here for my own sake would not be considered crass. My husband pulled me close to him and kissed me passionately, much to my relief for I had been waiting for it since we arrived. He looked ever so handsome in the moonlight, his dark hair and eyes reflected the silvery beams beautifully. I was not sure how to behave or how eager I was to allow myself to appear, and the nerves began to dance in my stomach once more. He seemed to notice this and put my mind at ease, reminding me that here, within this castle, we are free to do whatever we wish. It is our domain and the rules within its walls are ours alone to make. I fell into his strong arms then with abandon, my anticipation of things to come outweighing my nerves, and held him tightly against me. After several minutes more of passionate embrace, he took my hand and led me back through the castle, smiling and giggling as we went like sneaking children.

When we did arrive at our bed chamber, I quickly saw that he had given instructions to the servants and the room had been prepared wonderfully! I paused a moment to take in all the luxurious things that filled the room. Silk adorned the bed and walls, hanging like loose curtains from the ceilings and gathering on the floor like small lakes below thin waterfalls around the bed. Candles and incense burned, filling the air with smoky, exotic scents of a land I have only heard of far to the east. He asked me if I approved, if I was pleased, and I could only smile because I could not find the words to express my feelings. Such time had been dedicated so far in advance for my comfort and happiness that I was flushed with emotion and could only rush into his arms and hold him close as we had done outside beneath the moon. Again he kissed me, but now I responded with a passion that equaled his instead of nervous timidity. The formal attire of a lady of my stature does not make for quick or simple disrobing and the time it took us both to unfasten the layers of my garments seemed agonizingly long.

When Vlad had visited me at my father’s house, before our wedding, did we share our first kiss, a simple pressing of tightly pursed lips that then seemed almost scandalous. Now, just days later, we were husband and wife, intertwined in a passionate naked embrace. Soon after this, I was relieved that my husband had chosen to sleep apart from me while we were at my father’s house, for the sounds of our unbridled lovemaking would have been heard throughout. My mind was completely given over to sensuality and I did moan, despite my efforts to be quiet as parts of my body that had never been seen by any eyes other than my own were touched and kissed.

Afterwards, when we were spent and breathless, I laid my head upon my husband’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as the sounds of the river in the valley below lulled me to sleep. I did not want sleep to come, as I did not want the night to end, but I could hardly resist after our long journey home and all our physical excitement. The last thing I remember was my husband tucking the silken bedcovers around my shoulders and a thin blanket being drawn over the top to shield me against the cool night air.

I awoke the next morning to find upon my neck, on each side, the purplish marks that my husband’s kisses had left behind. I styled my hair drawn up that morning, and I felt no shame.

25 July 1460— Such a wise man, my husband is! I received a letter today from him and learned that he has allied himself with the King of Hungary. Now he might have some peace since the battle against the invading Turks is not his alone to fight. He has left our home and I cannot wait for his return. When he does finally arrive, I will have the servants prepare our meal and leave it by the door on the side table as neither of us will wish to be disturbed.

25 December 1460— I am heartbroken today as my husband is not home in his castle for Christmas. The defender of Christendom for all of Transylvania is spending this sacred day on the fields of battle. I know that all things have a purpose under Heaven, but I fear that the stresses of battle are taking their toll. I will have the servants prepare the feast, as is custom, and allow them all to partake of it. The only gift that I will be able to give my poor husband is to pray for the warmth and safety of him and his men.

18 February 1461— Vlad has been home for a little over a month, but the time away from the battlefield does not seem to bring him any peace. The battles have made him weary, and sometimes I fail to recognize the man that I once knew. His desire for victory overwhelms his thoughts and sleep, of which he gets precious little. I pray for peace for my poor husband, and that the good Lord will turn these Turks’ hearts lonesome for home and they will leave our lands be!

21 August 1461— Although he never says it outright, I believe that my husband is disappointed that I have not yet conceived a child. At first, I thought we would have a child very quickly, but now, it almost seems impossible. He is spending more and more time away from home, away from me. These damn Turks! I do not understand why men strive to conquer more land than they could ever control instead of being pleased with the land that has already been given them. But I assume it is in the nature of a ruler to stretch his boundaries. It is a pity since my husband wants nothing more than to protect what is his, not take from others as these Turks do. All the mental stress is certainly having ill effects on his desire for me. He has been home for three days now and he has yet to show an interest in me. When I try to encourage it, he shrinks away from me. I see his face. He worries terribly. I know he longs for an heir should the worst come to him and he be cut down in battle. I shudder as I write those words. Over a year of marriage has passed and I did not conceive when he was here with me so much more, and our passions ran boiling hot. What am I to do now?

12 November 1461— My husband is gone again, taken away by the need to train, prepare, and make war. Again, I am alone. I have not the heart to write further.

26 January 1462— My husband returned home only hours ago, but instead of being overwhelmed by happiness and love, I feel fear. I have heard whispers among the servants, things he has done. Vlad went into the land south of the Danube River, and there he laid a terrible slaughter upon the people. These were not only men in battle, but women and children as well. Twenty-four thousand people, if not more, are dead by my husband’s hands! The same hands that have caressed me, the orders spoken by the same lips I have tasted to be so sweet. Although the servants will not say it aloud and will stop speaking altogether when I approach, I know they sense the change in him as well. He is ever so cold, both his hands and his cheeks. The beautiful brown eyes I gazed into on our first night together shine red when the candle light does fall upon them. Strangely, the first orders he gave to the servants upon his return were to remove every mirror from every wall within the castle, even within my chambers, and to destroy them, even hand mirrors. They dutifully obeyed, although not even I understood why he would make such a strange request. I placed a tiny mirror that the servants overlooked in a drawer as to not offend him. I fear he is ill for he is dreadfully pale and his gums have drawn back, giving the illusion that his teeth have sharpened, two of which now look nearly as long and as sharp as a wolf’s.

Yet, I admit, despite my fear and my repulsion for his acts, I cannot help but be drawn to him. I have missed him so terribly that it seems even his glance calls me to him and I can hear his voice in my head when he is not with me. I have slipped away to record this because it troubles me greatly, even though I squirm with excitement when I think of his touch. Oh, to be held by my husband again after so long! I find it easier to forget the monstrous things he has done than I would have suspected. It was the fault of these Turks after all. Transylvania needs a strong leader, as I need my husband. He is the master of us all it seems.

Later— I was right to look forward to our reunion. To be finally close to him after so many days and weeks of absence was like medicine to my lonesome soul. As wonderful as it was, there are so many details about my husband that trouble me, changes I see in him. It is winter, and the castle is cold, but he hardly seems to notice, although his hands and face are as cold as if they had been held in ice water. I contribute it to the many nights he had to sleep outside in the cold, but I cannot say it with certainty. One would think he would crave the warmth of a fireplace and furs, but he does not and it is not just his hands that are deathly cold. His entire body, even in the heat of passion, is as cold as a stone. He also seems stronger than before, lifting me and moving me about without any effort at all. I cannot say for certain because I was drunk with love at the time, but once, he scooped me up into his arms and I am almost certain he supported my entire weight for some time with only one arm and without any effort or exertion. His stamina has also greatly increased, as it seemed to take hours for him to be satisfied. And although it was tiresome, I wanted for nothing when we were finished. Every pleasure I could imagine was fulfilled almost as quickly as the thought entered my mind. We did not speak of them, actually little was said between us, except for once when I gasped out in pain when once he became so consumed with me that he bit my neck as he kissed it. I know now that his teeth are as sharp as they appear.

28 January 1462— My husband has been home with me for two days now, and it is apparent that he has missed me as much as I have him. There is little time spent apart, as the servants mostly handle the affairs of the house. He must be exhausted from his travels, as he sleeps late every day. He sleeps so soundly that I have no worry of disturbing him. I enjoy watching him sleep, he seems to enjoy it so much. I do wish some color would return to his cheeks and maybe lighten the dark circles under his eyes. Although he has changed, it is not entirely unpleasant. He is more attentive to me than he has been in months and the stress of his battles seems to pass away from him with greater ease and bother him little when he is with me. I am pleased that I can give him some peace. He has given me so many things, and, though I may not understand all of his intentions or ways, he has been kind to my family and to me. I could expect little more from him in times of war. I do wish his appetite would return. I do not recall seeing him eat in some time and it worries me greatly. However, it seems he is awake at night while I sleep, so I trust he sees to his own meals then since he does not disturb the servants.

3 February 1462— Vlad has left to attend to matters in our capital city. I miss him terribly, but I am sure that my health is responsible for some of my wistfulness for his company. The winter has not been kind to me. My face is drawn and my skin is paler than is usual. My golden hair seems to have lost some of its luster and has gotten thinner. My maids have all suspected that I might be with child and have asked me if I have been ill in the mornings, but I have not. For a while, it made this sudden sickness seem a blessing, thinking that I carried my dear husband’s child. But, sadly, today, the monthly burden that all women share returned to me and dashed my hopes of pregnancy. I do not wish to eat and my sleep is troubled with restless dreams of my husband and what he must be doing. Oh, dear God, I try not to think of it. My comfort comes from the word of God and the many stories of war that his people had to face. I fear that my husband is set on doing God’s work in very wicked ways. I will pray for his guidance tonight.

15 February 1462— God be praised! I feel as though some of my strength is returning. I no longer sleep during the day and my appetite has returned. Vlad will be home for a short visit, and he will be ever so pleased to see how I have recovered!

20 February 1462— Vlad was only here for a day before my illness came back. I am ever so thankful he was not too exhausted from his travels that he did not want to make love with me, for now, I fear I would not have the strength. He missed me terribly and once more became overwhelmed with passion and bit my neck as he kissed it. Although it pained me, I did not call out like the last time as I found it to be quite pleasurable. Those sharp teeth! Again, the two tiny holes have been left in my neck, but I do not mind it as they heal quickly. What a wicked woman I would be if I were not married!

16 March 1462— The forest has come to life with the breath of spring. It seems the castle sits above a blanket of green, dotted with blossoming trees. I wish my husband were here to enjoy it with me. I miss him terribly, but my dreams do sustain me. It almost seems as though he is here with me. I have learned to watch for low fog amongst the trees, for it brings with it the most wonderful dreams.

19 April 1462— I wish Vlad were here. I have recovered from my illnesses and I would much enjoy a walk in the beautiful forest. It is truly unfortunate that I become ill when he returns home. I ponder that maybe it is a sickness he brings in from the battlefield that I am weak against. It would explain the change in his features as well, as I can see the similarities in my reflection. How strong my husband must be not to succumb to this strange, heathen malady.

23 May 1462— How thoughtful my husband is! With all that is on his mind, he found time to return home to me on almost the very day we were married two years ago. Our celebrations were most sinful, but how fondly I do remember it! He greeted me with a long, deep kiss and before he even had time to refresh himself from his journey, we had found our way to the bedchamber. I blush as I write this, but we did not make our love in the bed as good Christians should, but against the wall! He is more than strong enough for this. I was not surprised this time when I felt the bite after his lips had crossed my neck a couple of times. I knew the teeth had gone deeper, but I did not protest as I did not want to distract him. It is most amazing that when we are so entwined, it seems he can read my thoughts! I would never dare confess it to anyone, least of all him for fear of sounding foolish, but I have tested it and whatever lustful thing my mind can imagine shortly becomes reality.

When my neck became too tender for him to continue, he smiled, and we then went to recline upon the bed. I know now that I did not imagine the stains on his teeth were that of my blood because, as I rested from our frolicking, he gently took my wrist in his hand and did bite it as well. The blood flowed freely from his lips and down my arm, dripping from my elbow. I recoiled slightly, but his eyes were enough to relax me. His only explanation for his behavior was that he was starved for me and that this night he could