Page 13 of Sweet Nightmares
And she was strangely disappointed. She wanted him to… Want her? Like her? She didn’t even know. But not this. Not indifference.
Jane turned, grabbed her chosen nightgown off the hanger, and pulled it over her head. Then, she slid under the covers next to him.
Their bodies were mere inches apart, but he didn’t move to decrease the distance. Instead, he snapped his fingers, and every beeswax candle in the room faded into darkness.
And then… Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Jane expected him to pounce on her. To mount her and roughly stick his cock inside of her—like all the rest. But still, nothing. And somehow, it was infuriating.
The anticipation felt like its own nightmare, and that may have been the point.
Or maybe she just wasn’t enough for him.
Did he regret his choice?
Did she want him to?
She bit her lip, inhaled sharply, and stared up at the darkness, counting his breaths until she drifted off to sleep. She could not want her captor.
He only said fifteen words in the morning before kicking her out of his mirror. “Go home, tell your husband of our deal, and meet me again tonight at sundown.”
And Jane was reasonably confident he would be the one to break her—with his silence, if nothing else.
Leaving the mirror had been far worse than entering it. First, Jane was forced to deal with her husband’s debtors, and then, finally, her despicable husband. When she had finally arrivedhome after days of torture and one night in a mirror, he’d hit her. Slapped her across the face, pulled her by her hair, and slammed her head into the wall. She had crumpled to the floor, at which point he kicked her twice before leaving the room.
And that was before Jane even had a chance to tell him about her deal with Nightmare and the money. He left her with two black eyes, a bruised side, and possibly a broken rib. Thankfully, she managed to get through telling him without any more injuries—because she lied. She told her husband that if he hurt her again, Nightmare would come after him.
It wasn’t true. Of course, it wasn’t. Nightmare didn’t care about her. He wouldn’t do anything to her husband, but he was still a villain, and Jane would use all within her power to gain some semblance of control over the situation. Even lie.
And, oh, did Jane lie. Because she didn’t stop at telling her husband not to abuse her, no, she told him that the deal with Nightmare was for three weeks of the month, not the two the deal promised.
She’d get a whole week to herself.
Jane didn’t know where she would stay and what she would do with the week alone, but at least she would have it.
Amazingly, the lies worked. Her husband hadn’t touched her. Instead, he popped a bottle of sparkling wine and celebrated his new endless supply of money, saying, “Well, if you have to fuck a mirror for my wealth, so be it. How rough is he? You know what, don’t tell me. I’d like to imagine all the ways he tries to break you.”
A charmer.
But that was her husband, and Jane was so glad Nightmare had commanded her to return.
But returning wasn’t easy with all the bruises. So, after using Mirror Cosmetics and Mirror Balm—a medicine that helped reduce swelling and increased healing speeds—Jane took astreetcar back to the Grand Library that housed the Mirror of Nightmares and stepped right back into his mirror.
Entering the mirror felt like promises kept and gentle comfort, like a hug from a parent who loved her, or even a lover who’d never let her go. But that was the insidious part of the Mirror of Nightmares. His realm felt safe… But there was no way it could ever be.
Jane hadn’t made it two feet into the realm before Nightmare appeared from the shadows in front of her and said, “Turn around. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” Jane’s eyebrows flew up. “The mirror? Is that even possible?”
“With you, it is. You’re my anchor.” At her continued baffled look, he explained, “When you made your deal, you agreed to be my bride and anchor. As long as you are wearing this,”—he stepped closer, and with one finger, he slowly pulled the chain with the wedding ring out from beneath her blouse and between her breasts—“I can leave my mirror whenever I want.”
What? Jane gasped. That was not good. The mirror was a prison; it kept him inside, and she had given him everything he needed to escape it and wreak havoc on the city.
Fuck.
What had she done?
A wicked smile crept onto his cheeks. “Yes, precisely. Now let’s go.”
