Page 16 of Sweet Nightmares
Although, apart for being complicit in evil acts and being Nightmare’s minion, the deal hadn’t been too bad. Nightmare never touched her; he hardly even commanded her. And, quite frankly, he barely spoke.
And the silence was… Soothing?
She didn’t need words anymore. Nightmare never told her of his feelings or machinations, but his house sang to her. She could tell when he was in a good mood by the blossoming of flowers, the brightening of the paintings on the walls, or even the tone of the whispers coating the halls. The house liked her. It aided her, consoled her, and kept her safe. So, while Nightmare gave her nothing to work with, his house conspired against him to tell her his secrets.
Nightmare was in a good mood tonight. The wallpaper was brighter, and the blood roses were tight and freshly cut, with no hint of wilting or decay. Even the ghost servants who removed the cloches for their dinner had smiles on their faces.
Nightmare’s good mood often coincided with making strides in his revenge quest.
He was close to finding the diary. Jane felt it in her soul. Nightmare affirmed her suspicions when he said, “Tonight, we are returning to the Estate District to visit the last remnants of the Harwood witches.”
Jane simply nodded. The Harwoods were part of the Wood Witches, which were, in ancient times, weaker witch clans.
“The Harwoods have often been the Ashwood lackeys throughout the millennia.” He slowly cut a piece of his steak, then continued. “According to records, their family line had died out, but the records have lied. In hindsight, I probably should have realized this sooner, but paying attention to human dramas is quite… tedious.”
“Yes,tedious.” Jane smiled. He thought most things were tedious.
He raised a silver-manicured eyebrow at her tone but said nothing.
“Do I require anything special for our mission tonight?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin slowly, his gaze fixed on her, roaming over her black lace blouse that dipped low at her cleavage. “No, not particularly. Although you may want to change into something slightly more conservative.”
Jane played with her fork and met his gaze. He hated it when she wore low-cut blouses outside of his realm. She wasn’t sure if he liked them much in his realm, either, because he always became more tense when she wore them—which was precisely why she did.
Small resistances.
But in truth, when she was forced to spend her week every month with her terrible husband, she never wore anything remotely attractive. She often tried to wear things with as much padding as possible. Because a year into Jane’s deal, her husband had hit her again, and since Nightmare hadn’t come to stop him, he continued to do it, although typically, he did much less damage now.
Small victories. She bit her lip and responded to Nightmare, “And what would you have me wear, Dimitris?”
Nightmare hated when she called him Nightmare, but that was his name to her. He had always been the Mirror of Nightmares—her nightmare bringer. It was hard not to think of him that way. But when she did refer to him out loud, she called him by one of his many names, except his first name—Gavriil. She never used that, and she never would.
Captors didn’t deserve their true names.
But Dimitris was the name she used when being sassy. That, and sometimes,my lord. Though that was also used in much more serious moments.
A hint of a smile played on Nightmare’s face—or at least his jaw ticked in an amused way, not an annoyed one. “I shall pick out an outfit for you.”
The edge of Jane’s lips rose. “By all means,my lord.” She pulled out his title like sweet taffy, and his jaw ticked again. But even more telling, the wallpaper grew crisper and the roses redder.
Jane enjoyed forcing him to show emotions, even if only through his house, in how it morphed around him. He seemed to lack complete control over it, and she loved it.
Thirty minutes later, she walked her to their room, where an outfit lay on the bed. It was dark riding gear, the kind of clothing she would have worn on a bicycle or a hike. It consisted of oversized black bloomers cuffed at the calf, a dark blouse that reached her neckline, and a black jacket that covered the top.
“Will I be fighting someone?” Jane asked as she began to unbutton her blouse.
She didn’t always change in front of him, but she enjoyed watching the subtle shifts of his body when she did. It was hard to tell if he enjoyed it, because unfortunately, in their room, the house was of little help. It was the one place that never changed.
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility, not that I would ever let anyone get close to you.” He slid his gloved hands into his pockets. “But on the off chance they did, it would be good for you to have more mobility.”
“And how many people are we planning on murdering tonight?”
Nightmare shrugged. “It depends on how useful they are to me.”
“Ah, useful…” Jane released her petticoats, but she didn’t need to undress fully this time because she still wore undergarments under athletic wear.
It took them twenty minutes to arrive at the Harwood Manor, and only five seconds for Nightmare to start killing people.
