Page 14 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)

Chapter Eleven

S hock coiled around her body, and it felt like she was swimming in a sea of snakes.

Reaching a hand up, she wiped her face. Chunks of flesh and blood came off, and she doubled over and vomited onto the floor.

Then everything rushed back into her. The pain from the attack, the truth of her husband’s death, and a weariness that she couldn’t escape.

Her knees buckled, and she hit the ground hard. But within moments, she was no longer on the floor. She was in his arms. Warm. Safe. Gently, he set her on the couch as he knelt beside her, taking in all of her injuries and emotions.

He let out a low sound that might have been a hiss or maybe even a growl. It was hard to tell with him, and then he ran a thumb along her jaw and the bruises forming there from her husband’s fingers.

Jane sucked in breath at his touch, from pain and something else she couldn’t quite put a word to.

“I should kill you.” He ran his thumb along her jaw again as his second hand laced into her hair, both caressing and assessing.

Jane chewed her cheek for a long moment, matching his intensity. “You should.”

But he wouldn’t. They both knew it. He hadn’t saved her life just to take it now.

Jane believed he would kill her one day, but she also thought it would be a long time from now.

Because now, he needed her as his anchor.

He had a plan that needed to be seen through.

She would worry for her life when he finally got what he wanted.

And what he wanted was still maddeningly unclear.

“Heal,” Nightmare’s low voice commanded.

Jane’s skin, muscles, and bones tingled, stitching themselves back together. One command, and her body was better than ever. It was unsettling. But what came out of Nightmare’s mouth next was even more unsettling.

“How many men has he sold you to?”

Jane merely stared and swallowed. How had he known? Did he overhear what her husband had yelled while he was trying to kill her? He must have. But there was no way in all the heavens and hells that Jane was going to admit to the answer.

“How many men have violated you?”

A thick tear rolled down her face.

His voice turned soft. “How many, Jane?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her chest tight and full of pain. “Seven.”

His eyes flashed. “Names.”

“No,” she breathed. “You’ll kill them.”

“Yes.” He ground his teeth together.

“They aren’t all bad men.”

His nostrils flared. “Any man who rapes a woman as payment for another man’s debt is a bad man.”

“Please don’t say that word.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her cheeks stinging from holding back her pain.

“That’s what they did, Jane.”

“Please.” More tears streamed down her face, and he wiped them away with his knuckles.

“Have you ever been with any man by choice?”

No. “Please.”

Nightmare stared at her, his glare burning into her skin.

It was too intense, and she averted her gaze.

Then he did something she never expected: He pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on her head.

“You’re safe now. I’ll never let anyone touch you unless you want it.

” He paused for a long time, just holding her.

“Not even me. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. ”

“You already have.” Her voice was raw and filled with emotion. Nightmare didn’t react to the words, almost like they were meaningless to him. Jane swallowed. Of course, he wouldn’t care that he hurt her—that he stole the one thing she loved from her. Dance.

Her fingernails bit into her palm, and she looked down at her headless husband. She shook with both rage and pain.

“Alexei, I don’t want to keep his last name.” The last part came out as a sob, and she didn’t know why she said it. Now, or at all.

But she didn’t. Jane couldn’t keep that horrible man’s name any longer.

“Come with me.” He held his hand out for her to take.