Page 6 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)

Chapter Four

“ D inner,” he commanded, turning on his heel and expecting her to follow. And as if her shoes were tied to strings which were latched to him, she was forced to walk in his shadow.

Her heart pounded in her chest, defiant, resistant, but her footfalls were light and cooperative.

As they walked, Jane took in his domain.

It was a gothic-style mansion harking back to the Middle Ages, except it wasn’t just any castle.

It was alive, the walls whispering and watching.

Invisible eyes followed her as she moved, and she felt them on her skin like a haunted caress. A shiver ran up her spine.

The rooms they passed were not typical. They were like portals to other dimensions. One room shone with the moon’s light, another was covered in dancing shadows, and a third was simply empty save for the rotting wood of the walls and floor.

But the room that caught her eye the most was a ballroom made from briars. It had likely once been a magical, lush forest, but it was now a vacant, twisted, and cursed place.

Almost like the man walking her to her doom.

Mirror-blessed buildings often took on the personalities of the mirror that created them; perhaps this castle was a peek into Nightmare’s soul.

Jane shuddered. That was a terrifying idea.

They reached their destination, the Dining Hall, with a long wooden table stretching across a room filled with portraits and nature landscapes.

Nightmare motioned for her to sit in the chair at the head of the table, across from him. The distance was both uncomfortable and a relief. On the one hand, it was awkward and cold, but on the other, she didn’t really want to be anywhere near this monster.

Jane slid into her seat quietly. Waiting and watching.

And he said nothing. Did nothing. He simply stared.

Jane sucked in a breath and held it. She wanted to look away, to hide, but she didn’t. She rolled her shoulders back and caught his glare.

The seconds ticked by, feeling like hours, an eternity that bent and distorted, like paint melting into a grey-black sludge. And perhaps Nightmare could mess with time, at least in his realm.

Letting out her breath, Jane ran her fingers along the rich wooden table, over the intricately carved grooves. All the while, his eyes never left her, and the longer they sat there in the unbearable silence, the darker his gaze turned.

And Jane didn’t know what to do. What was there to do? She had no idea of the level of his monstrousness, nor did she know what he even wanted from her.

Was it sex? Like all the rest? Was he going to shove her against the table and have his way with her?

Jane bit her lip. If that were his plan, she’d survive it. She’d always had. She just turned her mind off. Her brain was like a light switch. When it was on, she was kind, present, and empathetic, but when she turned it off, she became distant, ruthless, and dead inside.

But nothing happened. He didn’t move to hurt her, nor did he try to make her feel at ease. Just nothing… Nothing but a glower.

Nightmare was the master of glaring. Something he must have perfected over centuries.

Ice radiated from him. His fury burned so hot it was cold, and his mood changed the room’s temperature. Goosebumps rose on Jane’s arms, and she shivered, her breath becoming visible. It was like an arctic wind had blown through.

His stare was literally turning her into an icicle.

Jane curled her toes in her shoes and curled her napkin between her fingers to feel more present in the room, but also to have something to occupy her hands.

Because she would not give in to his intimidation, he’d made this deal with her.

He wanted her to be his bride and anchor…

whatever that meant. Jane had no clue what it meant, but one thing was certain: He needed her for a purpose.

So, she would not fear him. Not yet, at least.

“I should have killed you.” His voice caused the hair on her arms to rise.

Jane’s nostrils flared. Why? What had she done to him? But that’s not how she responded. He would not break her so instead, she said, “Perhaps you should have.” She shivered again and rubbed her arms. She might be able to resist him with her words, but her body felt the cold seeping between them.

“Since I seem to have made a terrible mistake, we will have rules. Guidelines for how I expect you to behave,” he said authoritatively.

Jane nodded. It was best to keep quiet and measure the god. Let him set the game they were playing.

“Because you have a despicable husband”—he had no idea how true that statement was—“I will have to share you… For now.” He said the last bit through his teeth.

Jane opened her mouth to respond, but only a sound came out, much like a gasp. She didn’t want to go back to her husband. She didn’t want to be shared.

When Nightmare’s eyes darkened, a shadow coating them, Jane knew he’d misinterpreted her noise. He thought she didn’t want to be shared with him. Not that she wished quite the opposite, but she couldn’t get herself to say it.

It would give him too much power.

“Honor compels me to share, despite having no interest in doing so.” He placed his hands firmly down on the table.

“So here is how it will be. You will be mine every other week for the whole week. During that time, I will do it with you as I please. On the other weeks, he can have you and do whatever he pleases.”

Jane pinched her lips together. Had she no say in it? By either man? Was she to be a toy to be played with and tossed around until she was used and broken?

“On the weeks you will be with me, I expect you in my realm nightly. You will have dinner with me and sleep in my bed every night. When I have need of you, I will command you to do whatever I want.”

Jane wrung her hands in her lap, her eyes stinging at the corners, yet still she said nothing. It was easier to avoid wicked men’s wrath if she didn’t provoke them in any way.

“Do you understand me?”

Jane inhaled sharply. “Yes, my lord.”

He nodded, flashing her a look that said, This is too easy , before continuing. “You may have free rein of my realm when you are here, except you may not enter the Shadow Wing.”

“Shadow Wing?”

His glower spoke volumes. “The wing coated in shadows.”

“Right.”

He moved on as if she’d said nothing. “There will be times when I command you with the magic, and you will be incapable of resisting me, and there will be times I simply tell you to do something without the compulsion. I expect you to obey me either way.”

Jane’s eyebrows crinkled together. “So you’ll be testing me?”

“Yes.” His voice was liquid darkness. “I expect that you will never lie to me.” Jane waited to feel the pull of the compulsion—the unbeatable urge to comply, but nothing happened. She felt nothing. “That was a command without the force of magic, yet I expect you to comply regardless.”

He lifted an eyebrow as if challenging her.

“Why not force me always to tell you the truth?” she asked. Trusting her not to lie to him was rather foolish. Of course, she would lie to him. Cruel men often didn’t like the truth.

“Because I want you to choose to obey me. Always. Do you understand?”

“Yes. My Lord.” And Jane wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. She’d rather not lie to him, but if necessary, she absolutely would.