Page 70 of Sweet Nightmares
He nodded and held her a little tighter. He’d never admit to enjoying anything, but deep down, Jane knew he had sparks of feeling, and she knew, despite his complete lack of outward expression, he too liked the dolphins.
“Have you ever seen one in person before?”
“Yes.” His tone was monotone, but his eyes sparked.
Jane turned her attention back to the ocean as the boat carved through the waters. The midday sun sparkled on the water like a sea of diamonds. Jane tried to count the refracting rays of light, but there were far too many of them.
After a while of simply watching the calming sea, she moved on to exploring the Writing and Reading Room before wandering around the promenade deck. It was all so… glamorous and new. The ship was like a floating palace, and Jane wanted to see everything.
But time slipped away from her, and before she knew it, it was time to change into her evening attire and make her way to the dining salon. She looked forward to dinner because the first-class passengers were mingling and had to sit at a table with multiple parties. It was a time when people could meet new people and socialize.
And this was something Jane had never gotten to do freely in her previous life. Her last husband had had far too manyenemies for her to make friends, and although Nightmare was a grumpy man at best, he also allowed her to have a life outside of him. He let her have friendships and teach dance class, and he wanted her to work for and be a key member of the Fantômes. She even thought her rise in the mafia’s ranks made him proud.
In almost every way, Nightmare was the antithesis of her horrible, dead husband.
As she entered the sparkling dining room, she grinned brightly. It was all just new and fascinating. Even the food was captivating. They served a variety of meals, from a luscious steak to fresh salmon, and peach ice cream for dessert.
After a time of mingling with guests, talking about all things from the weather to the magnificence of the ship, and things about the first-class passengers’ homes and families, they were finally seated at their tables.
Their table was set for eight, but two of the party hadn’t arrived yet. Those who had were content with keeping to themselves. Unfortunately, their quiet dinner was quickly interrupted by their table partners—a rail-thin, overloud woman and her husband, who looked to be thirty years older than her. But when Jane saw his face, she stiffened and tried to disappear into her chair. All the excitement from the day vanished in an instant.
Nightmare’s fingers glided over her thigh in response as he stared at the late newcomers.
The man had a dusting of grey in his dark hair, and wrinkles spread across his face, but it was his cruel eyes Jane remembered the most. A gloved hand drifted to her neck as she sucked in a breath and begged him not to recognize her. The silk fabric scraped against her delicate skin as she remembered his fingers circling it.
He liked to cause pain. It was the only way he came.
For the life of her, she couldn’t remember his name. She tried not to remember their names. It was hard enough to forget their tiny cocks.
Jane sank further into her chair, wishing she could turn invisible, but using her magic in such a fashion would be highly inappropriate. So she just begged any god in existence to spare her from what came next.
But it didn’t work. When the older man’s eyes landed on her, the recognition was immediate. Time froze as he opened his mouth to say something awful, and Jane pinched her eyes closed, waiting for the onslaught of embarrassment and trauma, but it never came because Nightmare cut in before he could say anything. “Have you met my wife, Jane Whitfield-Wryte?”
“Ah, you remarried?” The older man’s eyes latched onto Jane.
“Yes.” She smiled tightly.
“This one seems even richer than your first one. Good on you.”
Jane smiled through her teeth. “Thank you.”
Nightmare tactfully steered the conversation away and onto lighter topics, but during a moment of quiet, he leaned into her and asked, “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” Jane swallowed. “He’s done nothing to me.”
“Liar,” he whispered into her hair, his tone dark and fingers still curling into her thigh.
“Gavriil,”—she jerked her gaze to him—“you know what he did. Don’t make me say it.”
Nightmare growled and turned his eyes to his food, but his attention was soon brought back to the conversation. He laced a facade of cordiality onto his face, but he vibrated with fury.
While he expertly maneuvered the conversation, Jane watched the man’s wife—she still couldn’t figure out his name, but then he didn’t deserve to have one. His wife couldn’thave been much older than Quinnevere, and as Jane studied further, she realized that the exuberance and loudness of her conversation were a finely crafted mask. The girl also barely touched her food, and when she did, her husband reprimanded her under his breath. He used it as a form of control, just like Jane’s dead husband had. It was also probably the reason the girl looked like a gust of wind might topple her over.
An anchor sank inside Jane, dropping to the deepest depths of the ocean. The girl was a mirror. The reflection of all the abuse she’d suffered.
Wetness gathered at the corners of Jane’s eyes, and her stomach churned.
She bit her lip and turned to the beautiful god sitting beside her, his hand still clutching her thigh protectively. Maybe her monster was right. Maybe she should take her revenge. Maybe it was time to stop denying the past and embrace it.
