Page 8 of Sweet Nightmares
Jane shivered. “What should I call you?”
“I have many names. Choose one.”
“Lord Wryte… umm Count of Draculei, Lord Draculei?”—she cleared her throat—“I would like to make a deal with you for—”
His hand moved over her mouth, silencing her.
“Shh, pretty one.” He leaned in and closed his eyes, his mouth resting on her neck as he inhaled deeply. “Tasty.”
His teeth—fangs—grazed her neck.
What the fuck was happening? Was Lord Draculei a vampire? No, she would not call him that, not in her head. He was Nightmare, because he was her nightmare right now.
But he didn’t bite down. Instead, he trailed a kiss down her throat, and her toes curled in her shoes as she clutched the wall tighter for support.
The Mirror of Nightmares was smelling her, touching her, and she liked it. She was getting… Jane didn’t even know what was happening to her body. It was like a spark bursting through her center. It pulsed with anticipation, and she absentmindedly glanced down to his pants to where his cock was hardening against her. She sucked in a deep breath. It seemed… very large. Fear and excitement skittered up her back. What that must feel like…
What the fuck was she doing? Jane never enjoyed that act. Ever. Yet now she was staring at a man’s legs, imagining his member… Possibly inside her.
Stop it.
You hate penises. All they’d ever brought was pain and a pounding discomfort.
“Mine.” His hot breath caressed her earlobe as his fingers raked through her hair, and he tilted her chin up as if he were going to feed on her.
And Jane both wanted to be fed on by this god-vampire and to be his. Whatever that meant. Even as she also hated him.
Jane’s breath hitched, wanting, needing him to… to do something, anything, but at that precise moment, in a blink, he was gone.
“What?” she breathed, her weak knees only standing with the support from the wall.
“Your bargain,” he said, matter-of-factly, leaning against the balcony railing, his demeanor utterly shifted. Strong, coherent, and powerful. “What is it that you came for?”
Jane bit her lip and stared at him. Her chest rose in passion-filled breaths.
What the fuck was going on?
“Your bargain, witch?”
“I am not a witch.”
“So you say.” The corner of his lips rose. “To the point, why are you here?”
Her brow furrowed. “To bargain with you for an unending supply of money.”
“For the men outside?”
So he was listening. Interesting.
Jane nodded. Everything about this man was baffling. “Yes, and my husband.”
For her husband, so he wouldn’t have another reason to hit her after this was all over.
“Husband.” He chewed on the word and spit it out, and the room temperature dropped. “And they’ll kill you if you don’t get them the money?”
“Yes.”
Unease burrowed into Jane’s stomach.
