Page 59 of Sweet Nightmare

I blink to break the spell, then hate myself when the corners of his mouth move in what I’m quickly coming to realize is the closest thing to a smile seventeen-year-old Jude can manage.

“I do the next pen alone—and if I come out unscathed, you let me handle the rest while you three take care of the chricklers.”

I turn the bet over in my head, looking for loopholes. As far as I can see, there are none, considering there’s no way he’s coming out of that cage without at least a few scratches on him. I don’t know how he got past the snake thing, but there are two of the creepiest spider monsters I’ve ever seen in there, and there’s no way he can evade them both.

Plus, better to let him get this ridiculous lone ranger routine of his done in there than when he tries to go into some of the other pens…

Still, it doesn’t pay to be too easy—or too eager. “And what happens if I have to come save your ass?”

“You won’t,” he answers, that tiny little smile still playing around the corners of his mouth.

“Of course not,” I agree sarcastically. “But let’s just say I do have to rescue you. Or, even, that you come out a little banged up. What happens then?”

He shrugs. “Then we do the rest of the pens your way.”

“Even the chricklers?”

He grimaces. “Even the damn chricklers.”

“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.” I hold my hand out for a shake, then immediately regret it when his palm slides against mine.

Tiny sparks dance along my skin wherever we touch, and I yank my hand back too soon.

Jude pretends he doesn’t notice, but that’s all it is. Pretense. I can see it in the way his shoulders stiffen and the way he brushes his palm against his jeans a few times, like he’s trying to rub the feeling off.

I get it. I’d do the same if I thought it would actually work.

“Okay, then.” I nod toward the heavy wooden door that stands between the spider monsters and the rest of us. “Guess you’d better get started before the weather gets worse.”

I watch his face closely for some tiny sign of fear, but there’s nothing. No tightening of his mouth, no flicker of his eyelashes, not even a deep breath to steady himself. None of the little tells from his childhood. Just pure, confident man.

It makes me want to change my bet—not because I’m afraid of taking on the chricklers alone, obviously, but because I’m terrified about what will happen to him if he goes into some of these enclosures alone.

But it’s too late now. He’s already unlocking the door and slipping inside.

My stomach clenches as the door closes behind him, and though I’m convinced my poker face is as good as Jude’s, Mozart turns to me right away. “He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

She starts to answer, then breaks off with an alarmed, “What are you planning on doing with that thing now?”

I turn around just in time to see Izzy holding on to yet another wicked-looking knife. She doesn’t answer Mozart, just walks over to the nearest door and jams the knife into the bottom of the padlock.

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t part of the bet,” Mozart tells her warily.

But she just lifts a brow. “I don’t remember agreeing to any bet. And if you think I’m just going to stand around out here and wait for Prince Not So Charming to come back in pieces, you’re more naive than you look.”

She wiggles the knife a little bit, then turns it quickly to the left. The padlock springs open, and so does the door.

“You coming?” she asks, blue eyes wide and not so innocent as she glances over her shoulder at me.

“No way,” I answer, but she’s already slipping through the door into the enclosure, without so much as a beat of hesitation…or any kind of plan on how to tackle the thing waiting for her inside.

Because, apparently, her instinct for self-preservation is about as strong as Jude’s.

I start to follow her, but Mozart steps in front of me. “You sure you want to do that?”

“Obviously not,” I answer. “But I can’t let her go in alone.”

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