Page 27 of The Nightmare's Kiss

“I didn’t know this was real,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The Nightmare’s head tilts, though the rest of him doesn’t move, and his expression is unchanging. “For what?”

“What I did wasn’t right.”

“Why?” he asks. “You still believe I am less intelligent than you?” He grins, like the thought is funny to him. One clawed hand lifts and slowly moves through familiar motions: the sign language for my name.

I shake my head without having to think about it. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve questioned myself or been lied to. If this plane of existence is real, then I have no doubt that the Nightmare is an intelligent being like I thought all along. More than just thoughts, he has feelings. Wants. But that only makes the reality of the situation more horrific.

“You’re a prisoner,” I say.

“Not here,” he says. “Here, I choose to visit you.”

My heart skips a beat. I want to ask more, askwhy, but I can’t let myself get distracted. “I heard you visit everyone who works with you in the lab.”

He inclines his head. “True.” His lips curl upward, a hint of sharp teeth showing through. “But those visits were very different from the ones I have had with you.”

I flush, remembering the feeling of his huge hands cradling me, his teeth pricking my skin, and a whole medley of other sensations that I really shouldn’t be thinking about right now. I swallow hard. “You only gave them nightmares.” He did for me, too, but only at first.

“None of them fought back as you did,” he says, clearly thinking back to the same encounters. “It made me respect you. And then…” His eyes rove over me in a way that makes heat curl in my lower belly. “You woke things in me that I have not felt for a very long time.”

As his voice drops to a low, rough growl, I have to fight off the urge to relive that last, pleasurable visit. I can’t. I press my thighs together as if I can contain my desire there. “It’s not right for things to be like that between us,” I insist. “Your physical body is still imprisoned. And I have power over you. It’s fucked up.”

“You are not the one who has me trapped,” he says. His face shifts, and a moment later I find myself staring into the cold, lined features of Director Ramsey. I shudder, and he shifts back to normal.

“But you’re still trapped,” I argue. “It’s still not right—”

His eyes flash. Darkness writhes around him, tendrils stretching his form into something far larger and less humanoid. A mass of writhing darkness overtaking the room. “No. It is not,” he says, voice dark and echoing. But a moment later, he calms, and his body slowly shrinks back to his humanoid form. “But it is not your fault either. And here…” I blink, and suddenly, he’s looming over the bed, looking down at me, stretching to seven feet tall again. “Here I have the power.”

Even when he’s showing off like this, I don’t feel an urge to cower. Instead, I scowl up at him.

“You said it was my dream,” I say.

He grins. “I lied. Sorry, little dreamer.”

All the more reason that I should fear him. He’s called the Nightmare for a reason. He’s killed people. Driven others to nervous breakdowns. And yet…he has never harmed me. Even at the beginning, he only tried to frighten me, and that didn’t last long. “So you’re trying to say…we’re even?” I ask, gnawing my lip as I consider the prospect. I can’t deny that he has a point. There’s still a power imbalance of sorts between us, but it’s a twisted one, not as clear-cut as a captor and prisoner, experimenter and experiment.

“I am saying…” He leans over, and one claw delicately tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I stare up at him, eyes wide, unable to look away. “There is a connection between us. Something I have not felt with another human.”

His huge, clawed hand hovers near my face, and I slowly lean over to press my cheek against his palm. I feel so cradled, so safe, despite the deadly tips of each claw. Maybe I’m a fool, but I can’t help it. I trust him. I feel safe when I’m here. “I feel something too,” I murmur, breathing in that delicious scent of smoke and pepper. “My mind says I shouldn’t. But…that doesn’t stop me from feeling the way I do.”

“You humans rely too much on logic,” the Nightmare says. One hand still on my face, he grabs my waist with the other and pulls me toward him with effortless strength to set me on his lap. I lean against him, sighing at the sensation of being enfolded within his velvety darkness.

“You should instead trust your instincts,” he says. “Those are what truly keep you alive.” His hand shifts to the back of my head, and I bury my face against his chest, breathing deep. He smells like smoke and spice, like wood and wild. I did not know anything could smell so distinct in a dream—but then again, this is no ordinary dream, as I should’ve realized from the very start.

“My instincts…” I murmur against him.

“What do they tell you?”

I consider the question. Try to push aside my logic, if only for a moment. How do I feel with him? Safe. Cared for. I feel…a yearning. A connection, new and fragile but already more intense than any I’ve felt with any of my exes. Butthatfeels dangerous, at odds with the sense of physical safety. My body is safe with the Nightmare, but my heart is not. I’ve worked so hard to protect that part of myself since Ethan hurt me, but I let down my walls with the Nightmare because I didn’t think any of this was real at first.

I sigh, shutting my eyes and shaking my head. Indecision plagues me once again. “I think my instincts are as confused as the rest of me.”

“No.” I’m surprised by his curtness. Even more surprised when, a moment later, he abruptly shoves me back onto the bed and pins my wrists above my head, his snarling teeth just inches from my face. I let out a little cry of surprise, but I don’t try to struggle. When my breath hitches, it’s not with fear. After a moment, he pulls back and looks down at me with amusement.

“You see?” he asks. “Your body knows the truth. Your brain is what is making this complicated.”

I squirm, then, frustrated. Of course, it doesn’t get me anywhere. “Things aren’t so simple,” I argue.

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