Page 29 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)
He squeezed her face harder, his claws piercing into her skin and causing a trickle of blood to fall down her face. The iron hit her nostrils a moment before the blood touched her lips.
The vampire licked it away, his tongue running over her lips and cheek. Every muscle in Jane’s body grew taut, and disgust licked her core.
His eyes became heavy lidded. “Oh, you’re divine. I am going to enjoy sucking you dry. Or perhaps I’ll keep you, and you’ll do the sucking.”
“I wouldn’t do either if you prefer to live,” Jane said. “You do not want to make an enemy of my husband.”
A low, dark laugh rumbled in his chest. “I am not afraid of humans, girl.”
It was Jane’s turn to laugh.
He glared at her but said, “Time to take you to our little meal.”
In an instant, he grasped her by the waist and dragged her into the cave, placing her down in a makeshift living room.
Jane’s stomach rolled, and she leaned over, catching herself with her hands on her knees. Bile climbed her throat. Oh, that speed was worse than the travel void and teleportation.
The place hummed with enchantment, making what would usually be a cold, bleak, and dark cave into something livable, even nice—a mirror enchantment.
Jane clutched her knees tightly for a moment and inhaled sharply, trying to get her bearings.
She needed to pull herself together and fight back.
She had practiced with Nightmare long enough to be somewhat decent at manipulating wind.
Even when Nightmare was no longer speaking or looking at her, she still religiously practiced.
Jane could do this—the only problem was that ten vampires turned into nearly twenty. Probably too many to control for long. But she’d try.
You better fucking work. She reprimanded her wind a moment before calling for Nightmare in her mind.
She wasn’t sure if he could hear, nor did she know if he would come, but it was worth a try.
Jane stood up quickly and twisted her hands, feeling the wind and calling it to her bidding.
The song it sang back to her was beautiful because it became an extension of her.
With a snap of her fingers, Jane pulled the air from every single vampire’s lungs. They all toppled and clawed at their throats.
Even vampires needed to breathe.
“Oh, I should have mentioned I am a Wind Witch.” A vicious smile painted her face. “And the bride of Nightmare. I am not one to be trifled with.” She took a taunting step toward the ringleader. “So where were we?”
He clutched his throat and glowered at her, trying to take a step toward her to presumably snap her neck or something equally as vile.
Jane clicked her tongue. “Ah, no, no. You won’t be moving.” Jane twisted her hand and squeezed the wind around his body, holding him tight. “Isn’t this fun?”
His lips were tight, and his nostrils flared.
“It looks like you have something to say.” She released the hold on his air supply, allowing needed oxygen to enter his lungs once more.
“You are psychotic.”
“Oh, thank you for the compliment. I definitely get it from my husband.” Jane paused in thought and tapped her chin with one finger. “And probably my bosses. They can be quite insane, too.”
“Let them go.”
“Why should I? Weren’t you about to make me your dinner?”
“They weren’t.”
Interesting. He cared about them. It was very possible that these vampires were victims, too.
If someone held their weakness, then they would be able to compel them.
This meant that Emrys might be right about the person who killed her parents being responsible for them.
What other option was there because, with the Accords, only freed vampires could create new ones?
“I know you are not the boss.” Jane squeezed her hand tighter, making the wind, in turn, squeeze harder. Extremely painfully. “So, who do you answer to? Who holds your weakness?”
“I am not telling you anything about us.”
“Because you can’t or because you don’t want to?”
The vein in his neck pulsed, and he gritted his teeth tightly. It seemed to be the former. Interesting. Were these vampires controlled by her parents’ murderer? Could she be closing in on the truth?
But as soon as Jane had the thought, her body quivered. Her magic was fading. She was doing too much. She swallowed and tried not to show her weakness. But her limbs went weak, and she barely kept herself up.
She stepped forward and had to reach out for the couch to steady herself, but she didn’t quite make it, and her knees hit the rock floor hard.
“Ah, your magic has limits.” He smiled. “So, all I have to do is wait you out.”
Jane glared at him. Her mind felt like wet sand; slow, dense, and sticky. Holding on to her magic like this was tiring—it was hard. Pain reverberated from where her knees had hit the rock so hard.
Jane placed her palms solidly on the floor and lifted herself to her feet like a newborn fawn. Step by step, she tried to leave the cave. But the process was slow, and she was losing her grip on the vampires.
But she kept walking, putting as much distance as possible between them and her.
“This isn’t over, girl,” the ringleader called from behind her. “I will find you and kill you.”
“I look forward to it,” she said with a shaky voice.
Halfway to the opening, Jane slumped completely to the ground. She rested her hand on the rock, begging her magic not to break. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this, and it seemed like Nightmare had forsaken her.
Jane pinched her eyes closed, and her hold on the vampires slipped. She braced for an attack that didn’t come.
Instead, she heard haunting screams from inside the cave.
With all the strength she could muster, she made her way back inside to find Nightmare ripping apart the vampires, limb by limb.
“I told you, you didn’t want to piss off my husband.”
It wouldn’t kill them, but it would definitely slow them down. The process of rebuilding the body was a long and arduous one.
It only took Nightmare a minute to take them all out.
“Thank you.” Jane stared at the massacre. Not all of the vampires were torn apart. Some of them had just had their necks snapped.
Did he just come to rescue her because she was his precious anchor, or did he actually care?
Nightmare stood with his back to her, surveying his mess, blood trickling down his arms and coating his clothing.
The strong muscles of his back coiled under his white, disheveled dress shirt.
His head cocked slightly back as if he were listening for her—but he still didn’t look at her. Not directly.
“Night—” Jane swallowed the name and sucked in a deep breath, staring desperately at him. “Gavriil, please look at me. Speak to me.”
He didn’t. The muscles in his back tensed.
“Please.” Her voice was shaky and raw. “I miss you.” I care for you, and I shouldn’t.
Without warning, he was in front of her, cupping her face so tightly she thought he might snap her neck, too. “Give me a reason…”
A reason? Jane’s eyebrows crinkled. A reason to miss him? Love him? A reason for him to kill her? A trickle of fear pierced into her chest like the talons of a deadly predator—the fear taking on a physical form.
Then, perhaps the worst thing slipped from her mouth. “I am not Helene.”
His hands slid into her hair and curled. He tilted her head like he was going to feast on her carotid artery. Jane placed a steady hand on his chest. If he were going to kill her, she would make him feel her… love?
It couldn’t be love. Could it?
Either way, she would feel his empty, heartless chest. Except…
Jane gasped. Nightmare jerked and froze. With her free hand, she touched her own chest. Then his.
Beat. Beat.
Beat. Beat.
His. Hers.
Beat. Beat.
His. Hers.
“Oh,” Jane whispered.
Nightmare’s grip loosened, and she was able to dip her chin enough to meet his gaze. His liquid mirror eyes sparked with an emotion she could decipher. “Take your hand off my chest.” His tone was flat.
The words pierced her heart, but she did as he asked. Jane’s eyes stung, and wetness pooled behind them.
Nightmare’s brow furrowed, and he cocked his head like a snake, staring into her soul. Then he dropped one of his hands from her hair and grasped her wrist, placing her hand back on his heart. Once again, Jane felt the pounding, like a drum vibrating under her hand.
Nightmare growled and removed her hand again. After a moment, he placed it back over his heart again.
Jane’s nose scrunched. What was he doing that for? Her skin prickled, and she was so close to understanding but so, so far away at the same time.
“It only beats for you.” His voice was husky with liquid darkness. “Hollow without your touch.”
A redheaded Ashelle Witch will become your heart. Was she his heart? Impossible. Jane slid her hand up from his chest, along his neck, and up to his face.
“If I destroy you, it won’t be because I wanted to.” She stood on her tiptoes—on pointe, and with her hand, she leaned his chin down so she could touch his lips to hers. She kissed him softly before pulling back. “I will be your heart for as long as you let me.”
His nostrils flared. “I don’t know how to forgive you.”
“I don’t know how to forgive you either.”
He lifted an eyebrow as if to ask, What for?
But she didn’t want to get into how he stole dance from her—the only thing that allowed her to process her rotten emotions—not right now.
So, instead, she said, “I can’t take back what happened, and I am not sure that I want to.
” She paused, and her lips twitched, and a well of feeling stirred in her.
“Because I want to know you; as much of you as you’ll give and honestly as much as I can steal.
But I know you don’t want anyone to know you, ever.
So, I am torn between accepting that and challenging it. ”
His throat bobbed.
“You own my body and my soul.” A couple of tears rolled down her face. “All I’m asking for is a little piece of you. Anything, Gavriil.”
He swallowed again, the muscle in his jaw bulging.
“Anything,” she breathed.
Her eyes searched his, but as usual, he was an unbreakable vault.
A groan sounded from the ground behind one of the couches, and someone stirred to their left.
The vampires were waking up. It was past time to leave.
Nightmare must have thought so, too, because his arms circled her waist, and they disappeared into the travel void.
He was taking them home.