Page 86 of Sweet Nightmares
The Viridian’s grand ballroom pulsed with dread. It was all around her—in the air, sizzling like flame. Jane couldn’t put her finger on it, but ever since she’d discovered the vampire lair, she’d felt a sick feeling tingling at the back of her spine.
Ever since gaining witch magic, Jane sensed things. Periwinkle had even called her a seer, despite the fact that Jane never saw anything. But sometimes, she justfeltthings—knowings. These “feelings” were part of the reason Jane had intervened in Quinnevere’s Mirror-Rite earlier. She simply felt that she had to, so she did.
And right now, something felt off.
The problem was that she had no idea what it could be. Quinnevere’s Mirror Rite? Les Fantômes business? The Gilded Alliance meeting?
Emrys had called the meeting because he had somehow discovered some information that he needed to address immediately. The man had ears in the walls, he found out everything.
The meeting was to take place after the cabaret’s opening number, so Jane still had time to find her sister and give her a birthday present. But she had to hurry.
Glancing through the horde of people, she looked for the glint of fiery hair, and when she finally spotted it, her stomach twisted.
Jane glared through the crowd, her gaze latched on fucking Emrys Avalon, who was once more flirting with her sister. Jane was going to castrate him. And he didn’t even have the decency to be alone while doing it. He had that vampire bitch Teagan Atwater dangling off one arm, and Nia Cross—Jane’s replacement as the prima ballerina of the Queen’s Royalle Ballet—on the other arm.
The cad.
As a business partner and friend, Jane rather enjoyed Emrys, but as a suitor for her sister, she was less enthusiastic.
This was bad.
Worse, Darcy was forcing them to kiss. What in all the hells? Jane trusted Darcy, mostly because she trusted Harlowe, but this was ridiculous. If Quinnevere followed through with the deal and passionately kissed Emrys, he would fuck her—because he couldn’t help himself—and then he would toss her away like all his other girls, and it would destroy Quinnevere.
It was a disaster waiting to happen.
“Oh, Jane, there you are,” Giselle said, grasping onto her arm and pulling her through the crowd. “I found us a spot to watch.”
“What about Quinnevere?” Jane asked, pointing in her sister’s direction.
Giselle glanced for a second at Quinnevere and Emrys before tossing her hair and continuing on her path. “Isn’t the point for her to kiss him?”
Well fuck.Jane let Giselle lead her to a ledge overlooking the crowd and the stage. It even gave a better view of Quinnevere and the soon-to-be-murdered Vampire King.
But Quinnevere didn’t pull Emrys aside to seduce him. Instead, she scurried away like a rat on a sinking ship before quickly finding their ledge just in time for the show to start.
The lights grew dim, and the dance floor cleared of patrons. With a loud pop and an explosion of blue fire, the show began, and dancers glided in, feathers grazing the floor. They ran in with quick steps and high kicks, exposing as much of their petticoats as possible.
It wasn’t surprising because the club was made as a vessel of seduction—everything about the place catered to dark desires.
And the dancers embodied it. They became seduction itself. It could be a good teaching moment for Quinnevere, who was still incapable of showing anyone her emotions.
“Do you see their emotional expression?” Jane leaned into Quinnevere and pointed at the dancers.
Quinnevere rubbed her palms together nervously. “Yes.”
Jane squeezed Quinnevere’s hand empathetically, knowing the depths of the struggle. Quinnevere was too young when their parents died to remember the horrors of it—she didn’t even remember having a sister—but Jane was fairly certain Quinnevere‘s inability to feel anything outwardly stemmed directly from witnessing the bloodbath. Jane had her own scars from that night. Different, but just as dark.
“As dancers, we are also actors. And to act, we need to have access to emotion—either true or imagined.”
Quinnevere let out a breath. “But that’s the problem. I can’t do that.”
Jane smiled kindly. “Yes, you can. In the four years I’ve mentored you, I’ve seen you connect with your emotions on numerous occasions. You can do it. You just don’twantto.”
Quinnevere bit her bottom lip as a storm of thoughts played in her eyes. Jane wanted to pull her into her arms and tell her everything would be okay—tell her everything and help her process through her past, but she just couldn’t get herself to do it.
What if, when Quinnevere discovered the truth, she didn’t want anything to do with Jane?
Jane could withstand anything in her life except losing her sister—again. Once was enough. So, she lied to, and withheld from, the one person she loved more than anything else.
