Page 175 of Sweet Nightmare

Two of the chricklers leap at me at the same time, and I go down. Sharp teeth tear at my arms as I throw them up to protect my face and throat.

I can’t help but smirk at the irony that after everything that’s happened in the last two days, I’m going to end up dying at the hands of the same creatures that have spent the last three years tormenting me.

Apparently, fate has a really shitty sense of humor.

I tear at the chricklers with my teeth in a last-ditch attempt to save myself, but they’re too far gone to notice. They’re in a frenzy, their entire focus on tearing me and Ember to pieces. I try to get my tail out from under me so I can at least try to stab them, but I can’t move well enough to do it.

Ember screams again, only this time it sounds a lot like a bird call. I turn my head, watch as she starts to fly up again, her phoenix determined to rise from the ashes. I try to follow her with my eyes, to make sure she escapes, but things start to go black, and all I can do is think about Jude.

Losing one’s mate is one of the most agonizing experiences a paranormal can go through, and the idea of putting him through that devastates me even more than the real possibility of dying. He’s been through too much. He doesn’t need any more pain. I have to try to fight, but the emptiness is starting to spread through my body.

All of a sudden, an infuriated roar rips through the dance hall above me. Seconds later, the chricklers go flying backward, and then a shirtless Jude is crouching down in front of me.

His face is covered in scratches, his shoulder dripping blood from a series of bite marks, but his eyes are filled with concern and love as they search my face. “You okay, Kumquat?” he asks, voice fierce and eyes livid with rage.

Okay is a stretch. I nod and start to tell him to check on Ember, but he’s already turning around to face the monsters. And for the first time ever, I realize I’m not just looking at Jude. I am most definitely looking at the Prince of Nightmares.

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

IF YOU CAN DREAM IT,

YOU CAN KILL IT

The first thing he does is let out a roar that commands the attention of everyone in the place, human or creature. Then he moves to stand directly in front of me—his way of protecting me from any more attacks.

Jude holds himself loosely, his legs spread and braced beneath him and his arms held out from his sides. The tattoos on his chest and arms start to glow and undulate, twisting and turning and sliding over his skin until his entire torso is alight with the magic and the power of a thousand nightmares. A flick of his fingers calls a gust of wind to him out of nowhere. It whips the air around him into a frenzy, and the entire room drops twenty degrees in an instant. And that’s when Jude sends the nightmares spinning, twirling, flying off his body into the room around him.

He never would have done this before everything that happened at the cellar, never would have trusted himself to wield the nightmares like the weapons they are. But something happened the moment he realized what the Jean-Jerks had done, something switched inside him, and I know this incredible display of power and strength is the direct result of it.

The monsters must see it, too, because they back away, screeching and bellowing their displeasure. But it’s already too late for them. Jude has them in his sights, and it’s obvious he’s determined to settle this once and for all.

Like a conductor at a macabre symphony, he uses his hands and arms to weave a complicated pattern—a safeguard—with the nightmares into the air around us.

I expect them to flow out into the room immediately, even brace myself for whatever will come from that. But instead, they form a feathery barrier spinning around the two of us, gaining speed and power with each twist and turn, until they glow so brightly they light up the whole room.

And that’s when Jude strikes.

A flick of his wrist, a quick spin of his hand, has the nightmares scattering in a hundred different directions. They cover the entire ballroom—and every monster in it—wrapping themselves around the creatures like full-body manacles.

The creatures thrash and scream, claw and gnash their teeth in frantic attempts to escape their astral shackles. But the nightmares hold them fast. Then Jude circles his hand in the air and jerks it backward. Within seconds, the nightmares start slowly, inexorably dragging the monsters closer to Jude.

The tapestry lies in the corner of the room. Remy makes a run for it and sprints it over to Jude. Simon and Mozart, looking very worse for wear, take it from him and unroll it on the ground at his feet.

And even though every muscle in my body aches and I want nothing more than to stay where I am, I force myself to stand up and move to join Jude. My mate.

He doesn’t look at me—his concentration is too fierce for that as he continues to drag the bunch of snarling, furious, ferocious monsters straight toward himself.

But he manages to ask, for the second time, if I’m okay.

Like I’ve said before, ‘okay’ is a relative term—especially since I’m pretty sure I have a few broken ribs. So instead I respond with the only thing that’s true.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, and watch his eyes darken with concern.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get the monsters in the tapestry so we can finish this,” I answer. “Do you know how to do it?”

“Not a fucking clue,” he answers grimly.

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