Page 15 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)

Chapter Twelve

T en minutes later, they were walking to the entrance of the Russet and into the Grand Casino.

The Russet was one of the seventeen sentient structures in the city, meaning it was a building controlled by a mirror and was a living, breathing, and moving entity.

Keeping with its peculiar theme, the casino’s entrance was at the back of a shadow-coated alley, beneath mahogany cellar doors that opened onto lightless stairs.

Claustrophobic, yet exciting. At the bottom of the stairs was the bouncer.

A girl who looked to be only seventeen with bouncy blue curls and a sing-song voice. Jane was fairly certain the girl had made a deal with a mirror for eternal youth or something, because she hadn’t aged a day since the first time Jane had come to the casino at seventeen years old.

“Why is a bullet like a tender caress?” the blue-haired bouncer asked. The only way into the Russet was to answer a riddle.

“Because both bullets and love pierce through hearts,” Jane responded before Nightmare could.

He glanced at her and nodded in approval before pulling her through the doors and onto the wooden platforms that made up the gambling den.

The place was a cave with beautiful lagoons that sparkled with the shades of a sunset.

Stalactites formed stakes of crystals from the ceiling, and glow worms and enchanted fireflies lit up the rooms.

The place was gorgeous.

Nightmare marched up to a private table where five people sat playing poker, Jane still clinging to his arm.

The first and most shocking member of the table was the Playboy Prince, Emrys.

Jane immediately wanted to curtsy to him out of respect, but she wasn’t sure if it was the appropriate thing to do, considering…

everything. So, she gave a slight and awkward bounce that was certainly not missed by anyone watching.

Jane had met Emrys three different times at the Royalle Ballet. He was a fan of the arts. Surprisingly, considering his proclivities towards bedding women, he had never flirted with Jane.

Tonight, he sat in a midnight suit spun from spider silk with purple accents.

The man sitting to his direct right—Francois—was also impeccably dressed in a burgundy, pinstriped suit.

The color made his russet-brown skin and dark eyes stand out.

The two of them looked like the wealthiest men in the room, and they probably were.

Francois was the leader of the Fant?mes gang and the most powerful man in New Swansea’s underworld.

On the other side of Emrys was a gorgeous woman with golden-brown hair. She wore a low-cut dark pink dress that sparkled under the shine of the Russet’s glowworms.

Two other men filled out the table and seemed to be members of the Fant?mes gang.

“A meeting. Now,” Nightmare demanded.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, Gavriil.” Prince Emrys drew out the name, almost tauntingly.

“It seems you two have been having quite a fun night,” Francois said with a rather amused smile on his face.

“And who did you kill?” the girl with golden-brown hair and two different colored eyes—one pink and one blue—asked in a bored tone. She ran her hand along the felt of the table, her long nails stroking the fabric almost like claws. “I think you still have their brains in your hair.”

Jane shuddered. Disgusting. She didn’t even want to think about that.

As the brunette’s eyes slid over Jane, they sparkled—literally sparkled. Her face was young and soft, but underneath was an iron temperament. So beautiful and so fierce. A woman Jane never wanted to anger.

“Her husband,” Nightmare finally answered the question in an equally flat tone.

“Ah, I see you finally wanted her all to yourself,” Prince Emrys said, raising a suggestive eyebrow before turning to Francois. “You owe me 20,000 Siennas.”

Francois sighed. “You had to go and kill him.” He shook his head.

Jane’s mouth nearly fell open. Not only did Nightmare know two of the most influential men in the entire country, but they also knew about her and him . Which meant they went into Nightmare’s mirror prison, right? And frequently?

“So, what do we owe this pleasure?” Emrys asked. “I know it’s not covering up a mirror since New Swansea’s laws don’t apply to you.”

Nightmare growled. Deeply. “I have multiple demands.”

“Of course you do.” Emrys slid his hands into his pockets and leaned back in his chair.

“Firstly,”—Nightmare looked to Emrys—“I need you to write up a marriage certificate and change her name,”—his eyes shifted to Francois—“and I want you to take Jane into your gang and give her a job…”—after a moment of hesitation—“a good one. You will protect her like one of your own.”

What? Nerves flew up Jane’s throat like a flutter of butterflies.

Francois’s brow furrowed, but it was Emrys who said, “And what name precisely do you want me to change her name to?”

“She’ll take my name as my wife.” Nightmare’s jaw tensed; he was clearly annoyed at being questioned.

“Her husband’s body isn’t even cold yet, and you’re already stealing his wife.” A smirk climbed up Emrys’s lips. “And they say I’m a rogue.”

Nightmare ignored the comment. “She’ll become Jane Wryte.”

“No, Jane Ashelle Whitfield-Wryte,” Jane said far too meekly, like a mouse. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I want to keep Ashelle and Whitfield.”

Jane didn’t know why she wanted to keep the name Whitfield, which had been given to her at the orphanage, but she did.

It was the name she danced under, her public name, and perhaps even the name that represented resilience.

Ashelle was her identity, but Whitfield was her strength, and Wryte would become her hope.

Hope that, for once, her life would be lived without facing violence.

Nightmare waved his hand. “As she says.”

“Just to be clear, you are marrying her tonight?” Emrys asked.

“Yes.”

“Should we have a ceremony?”

Nightmare’s eyes darkened. “The paperwork will do.”

“How romantic,” the brunette woman said under her breath. She leaned in closer to Emrys, and he ran a very suggestive hand up her thigh.

Jane gulped and glanced away.

Then the prince looked first at Jane, who was wringing her hands, and then at Nightmare, who looked like he was a shadow made of stone.

And with a mischievous glint in his eye, Emrys said, “I will marry you two, but it would be such a shame not to have a ceremony.” Nightmare growled, but Emrys simply shrugged. “It’s my condition, Gavriil.”

“I would remind you of the Gilded Alliance and the extremely lenient deal I gave you for protection from prosecution by the police.”

Jane would later learn that the Gilded Alliance was an agreement to work together with the most significant mirrors in the city, the Fant?mes, Kordelia, and the Prince.

Apparently, the Fant?mes made a deal with Nightmare to counterbalance the deal that the police had made with him.

The police had made a deal that every crime against a non-mirror-blessed person would be instantly solved.

Completely fucking over all the underground factions of the city.

Emrys tapped the table. “I never made that deal with you.”

“Yet you benefit from it, as the de facto leader of the Fant?mes.”

Francois let out a low snarl. He didn’t like the insinuation that he wasn’t in control of his gang.

“We are allies, nothing less.” Emrys held up a placating hand. “Nightmare, darling, just marry the girl properly.”

Darling . Oh, Nightmare was going to kill him.

Yet he didn’t.

He simply nodded.

“Please, clean her up and find her something to wear.” Emrys turned to the brunette, whose glare could have cooked a steak.

Emrys leaned in closer, whispering into her lips.

“Please, do it for me, Harlowe.” He closed the distance and passionately kissed her while everyone looked away, pretending not to watch.

Jane wanted to burst out of her skin. It was too… carnal. Too heated. Too much. But mostly, Jane was jealous that no one had ever kissed her like that.

Like they wanted to consume her.

Granted, it was this moment that Jane would look back on when this foolish Prince turned his eyes to her sister. It was at this moment that Jane would probably never approve of him.

Not for her, Quinny.

“Yes, fine,” Harlowe said before standing and motioning for Jane to follow.

Harlowe took her first to a pool, where she helped her clean up and then gave her a glittering silver gown.

“Do you have something more…” Jane didn’t quite know what she wanted, but she didn’t want a white gown or a white adjacent gown, not for her second marriage and not to marry a monster cloaked in shadows.

The silver wasn’t fitting.

“Black or blood red?” Jane finally finished the question.

The corner of Harlowe’s lips lifted. “Something more monstrous?”

Jane nodded.

“Fitting, I guess.” Harlowe pulled out a black velvet hoop-skirt dress with deep crimson embroidery and lace, mixed with black lace and red velvet sleeves that doubled as gloves.

The sweetheart neckline was cut low and exposed ample cleavage. In the dress, Jane’s red hair looked darker, almost black. Almost as if the dress were adapting to her, and her to it.

It was the perfect dress to marry Nightmare in, and ten minutes later, she was walking down the aisle for her second wedding, just hours after her groom had murdered her first husband.

The ceremony was quick and beautiful. It was held in an underground cave overlooking a lava pool and a tranquil waterfall. There was little sound apart from the steaming hiss when the cold water met the lava.

It was beautiful, but all Jane could focus on was her heart, ticking away in her chest. Beat, beat, boom, tick, tick, crack.

Nerves coated the lining of her stomach, and her knees shook beneath the massive skirts of her dress.

Only Francois, Harlowe, and Emrys witnessed the nuptials as the words of the ceremony blended together, as she looked up into Nightmare’s sculpted face—a face so beautiful a mortal dared not stare too long.

Outside the mirror, his hair was more white than silver, and his eyes had more blue cutting through—but he still didn’t look human.

Godly was the only word that could ever match his radiance.

His throat bobbed as he looked down at her. He, too, seemed to ignore the prince’s words, his focus tearing into her and devouring her.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Nothing happened. Nightmare didn’t move his lips to hers. He didn’t do anything save glare at her.

Emrys cleared his throat. “Umm, you are supposed to kiss.”

“Can I?” Nightmare whispered so only she could hear him.

“Yes.”

Nightmare stepped in, lifted Jane’s chin possessively, and whispered into her lips. “I really should kill you before you destroy me.”

Then his lips met hers.

At first, the kiss was a hard press of lips against one another. No softness, no giving in from either side. Jane expected him to pull away after a moment, but he didn’t. He grunted and laced his fingers into her hair, pulling her in closer as he opened his mouth and let her in.

At first, Jane didn’t know what to do. Of course, she had been kissed before, but never with passion and never of her own choosing. She had always just been a toy.

But at this moment, she didn’t want to be. So she opened her mouth to him, and he slipped his tongue in.

Jane’s breath hitched, and her heart pounded in her ears. She was kissing the God of Nightmares… at their wedding. He tasted like black tea and darkness.

Jane’s hands trembled, but she ran them up his chest, holding on to his suit coat for stability.

And he did keep her stable. He was a wall of solid muscle, and surprisingly, a source of desire.

He growled as he plundered deeper, one of his hands moving down her waist and pulling her closer to him.

Passion sparked, and tension between them pooled at her core.

She wanted to feel more of him—to feel all of him.

But they were far too clothed for that. Her hand drew into his coat and under his dress shirt, trying unsuccessfully to pull it off.

She wanted to feel his skin touching hers. His mouth was not enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Because a beast was growing inside of her, and it was like nothing she had ever felt.

Jane whimpered as his fingers stroked her waist, exploring and learning her body like a violinist tuning his instrument.

The sensations he coaxed and the way his hands moved thrilled her and made her oh-so curious.

Jane wanted more. But she wasn’t going to get it.

Francois cleared his throat. “We have rooms if you prefer to consummate immediately.”

Without warning, Nightmare pulled away and stepped three feet backward, leaving Jane cold and listless. Her knees were weak, and she no longer had anything—or anyone—holding her up. When Jane’s eyes caught Nightmare’s, acid singed her throat.

Because Nightmare was painted from wisps of rotting fury, everything about his posture was suddenly off… something dark and twisted lingered behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he disappeared in a cloud of iridescent light.

He’d married her, kissed her with the most passion she’d ever felt in life, and then he just left her in a den full of vipers.

“Well, that was certainly entertaining,” Emrys said, perhaps to break the tension pulsing through the cavern, or maybe he just said it because he never took anything seriously.

“I assume you will probably follow him to his mirror to celebrate your marriage. But when you return, you will start your new job.” Francois slid his hands into his pockets before turning on his heel to leave.

“Job?” Jane asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Gavriil made it clear you are now a member of Les Fant?mes. I hope you love paperwork.”