Page 52 of Sweet Nightmares
“He’s,” Jane gulped, “He’s um…” Jane motioned to her nether regions.
“Oh, he’s gone down on you?”
“Yes. But when he touched my…” Jane paused again. Gods, this conversation was painful. “It hurts. It tenses up, and I get a sharp pain.”
Harlowe ran a hand through her frozen white hair. “I have heard of that happening from some of the courtesans. Apparently, some women suffer from pain when the pelvic floor is touched.”
“So it’s not normal?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to solve the problem?”
Harlowe shook her head. “No, but I know someone who might. Give me a day or two, and I will get you the answer.”
“Thank you.”
Harlowe’s face rose in a sad smile. “Thank you, too. I guess it helps to know someone else is going through something similar to me.”
Somehow, Jane felt the same. She pulled the other woman into a hug, which was met by a tense, motionless Harlowe. Did she hate touch? Or just that she was starved of it?
When Harlowe moved to accept the hug, her white hair slipped and grazed against Jane’s face, and the pain was instantaneous and terrible. A burn so cold it was hot. Jane flinched and instinctively pulled away.
“Oh, fuck, I am so sorry.” Wetness gathered at the corner of her eyes.
Jane waved it off. “It’s okay, Nightmare can fix it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Age 27.
“Who did this to you?” Nightmare growled, appearing in front of her and pushing her up against the wall as soon as she entered his mirror. His large, veiny hand lifted to her face, and he caressed the burn.
“No one did it.”
“I told you the one thing you never do is lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie.” Jane gently grasped his wrist. “It was a mirror consequence when I hugged a friend.”
“Mirror consequence?” he asked, fully unconvinced.
“Yes, Harlowe Merriweather’s hair causes frostbite, and before you think of killing her, she’s Beautiful Decay’s anchor, and he won’t look kindly on that.”
Nightmare watched her as if she were a ghost, fragile and unable to catch. “Heal,” he commanded, and like every othertime he did, her face instantly fixed itself and became perfect and pristine—even better than before.
“Thank you.”
The tension was uncomfortable because he hadn’t moved to let her go and hadn’t moved to touch her further. It was like the moment was steeped in both insecurity and longing.
But, just as quickly, it was done. Nightmare disappeared.
There were times when Jane spent days in Nightmare’s mansion without seeing him. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and during those times, she acquainted herself further with the house. The place was like an invisible, magical friend.
Although sometimes not so invisible.
Tonight, it called to her. The artificial wind snaked around her body as if holding her in a lover’s embrace.
It coaxed her, sang to her, and asked her to come to the ballroom of briars.
