Peter Pan is an asshole.
Of course, I knew this. He did kidnap me, after all. But now I really, really know it.
But I also know he’s hurting and he won’t share it.
I can’t feel Pan like I can Vane, but there is a connection there. Like a distant, humming, white noise that never stops. But I can’t tell what it means. Having the shadow is still so new. I haven’t figured out how to use it.
The silence stretches across the room once Pan is gone. Vane is still sitting on the coffee table, bent in half, his elbows on his knees. He’s still shirtless, giving me his full back and the skull tattooed there. Its mouth is open, fangs sharp in its mouth.
I had thought it was just a style he chose when he got the ink done, but now I have to wonder if it’s something that represents what he was before the shadows. A monster, he said. His brother is known as the Devourer of Men. The fanged skull fits.
“I’m worried about him,” I say, filling the silence.
Vane hangs his head. “Me too.”
“Seeing Tinker Bell again has thrown him off.”
Vane nods.
I look out the balcony doors where the snow is still thick. When Mom and I lived in cooler climates, I hated the snow at first. I liked wearing dresses and playing in the sunshine and rain. I didn’t have a winter coat let alone boots, and it forced me to stay indoors. So I started taking baths. Every day, sometimes twice a day. I loved being covered to my neck in warmth. Back then I thought craving the heat was because the snow was cold. But it was probably because I craved the heat of human touch and a hot bath was as close as I could get.
“I’m taking a bath.”
Vane twists to look at me. “What, right now?”
“I have to get ready for the visit to the palace anyway. I might as well start early.” I turn for my bedroom. Vane follows behind. “You’re coming too?”
“I promised Pan I wouldn’t leave your side, so I guess I’m also taking a bath.”
I laugh. This is an unexpected gift and it’s enough to assuage the unease in my belly.
The incomparable Dark One is going to take a bath with me. This will be fun.
Vane draws the water while I pull a brush through my hair. I’ve never much cared about my appearance. I was too gangly as a kid and then too easy as I got older. Boys didn’t care if my hair was shining if my legs were spread.
Do I care about it now?
I stare at my reflection in the mirror over the vanity. The glass is speckled and cloudy. My face is rounder than it was, cheeks a little fuller. I’ve put weight on since being in Neverland and I can’t tell if that’s because Bash cooks the most delicious food, or if it’s because I’m happy. Maybe both.
I like this new version of me.
Vane shuts off the tap. The water drips. There is a splash and when I glance over my shoulder, I find him already up to his waist in the water.
“Starting without me?”
“Get in,” he commands.
Setting the brush aside, I yank off my clothes. Vane drinks me in again, like he didn’t just see me naked a half hour ago with his cock buried inside me.
He lends me his hand as I climb over the high edge of the tub. The water is hot and I relish the burn as I sink below and let the water envelop me.
I sigh as I lean back against the tub’s curved wall, my legs tangled around Vane’s.
“This is exactly what I needed,” I say.
Vane takes my foot in hand and kneads at the soft flesh. “Give Pan some leeway.”
My eyes pop open. I see how it is. This is clearly a trap and he’s trying to lull me with a foot massage.
“Pan was being an asshole.”
“I know that.”
“So I’m supposed to let him?” I try to yank my foot away, but Vane’s grip is firm and water sloshes over the side.
“You’re supposed to read the fucking room, Darling.”
There he goes, using my last name again because he knows it irritates me. But only when he does it.
I settle back against the tub and Vane continues to knead the arch of my foot. I just want to enjoy this, but I’m having a hard time letting it all go.
There’s so much of Pan’s history I don’t know. Years and years and years. Have I tricked myself into believing I’m somehow special to him too?
Maybe I’m the arrogant one.
“Was he…Pan…and Tinker Bell…”
“No,” Vane says quickly. “They were only friends. But Tink obviously wanted more.”
I swallow hard. The thought of craving Peter Pan and not getting him…no wonder Tink lost her fucking mind.
“What about the twins?”
“What about them?” There’s a disinterested edge to his voice, which is an immediate contrast to the sharp tang of worry I feel echoing through the shadow.
I smile at him. “You’re worried about losing them too.”
“They’re little royal shits,” he says. “I don’t care what they do.”
I prod at his hard stomach with my other foot. “Liar.”
He grumbles. “Fine. But if you tell them I said this I’ll fuck you just to the edge of coming and then I’ll leave you to squirm. I’ll do that day after day until you can’t see straight.”
“I’ll just make myself come.”
His tongue pokes inside his bottom lip, watching me.
I huff. “Okay, yes, that would be fucking torture. Your secret is safe with me for the sake of your dick and your mind-blowing orgasms.”
He massages at the arch of my foot as he relents. “The twins pretend to be indifferent to their family and the connection they’ve lost. But they yearn for it. Every day. It’s not just about their wings. Or maybe they don’t even realize there’s something more, something harder to quantify, harder to name.
“We may be their found family, and I think we always will be with you at the center, holding us all together. But they need that connection to their people too. Not just the court, but the whole of the fae. The way through for the twins is to feel like they have a place among the fae.
“They would have been great leaders,” he finishes.
I nod, trying not to break the spell. I like listening to him speak about the others when he’s not trying to hide his love for us. Vane gives so little away, but in this moment, I realize that in his stillness, he gets to know us, maybe even better than we know ourselves.
He switches to my other foot, the muscles in his forearms twining as he massages my heel.
“So now what? What do we do about Tink?”
“Let us worry about her,” Vane says.
I lower my voice several octaves, mimicking him. “’Sit down, silly girl, and let the men do the work.’”
“That’s not what I mean.” He doesn’t sound offended. Instead, he sounds wary, like he knows I’m just being petulant.
“I can help.”
“I know you can.”
“So why not let me? I have the shadow and I can—”
He sits up and the water sloshes around him. His abs come out of the water and it stops me mid-sentence, the bareness of his body, the intensity in his gaze, the fact that not long ago he was spitting in my mouth and driving me away. And now we’re in a bath together and can barely stand to be apart.
“She will destroy you, given the chance.” His violet eye turns black and I feel the tug at the center of me, the shadow wanting vengeance and violence for something that hasn’t even happened.
But I can also feel Vane’s fear.
“We can’t let her,” he says.
I nod, and the darkness leaves his good eye. He leans back again and takes my foot in hand, but this time he moves up my calf and a shiver races across my shoulders even though I’m surrounded by heat and steam.
He’s trying to distract me. And I’m sad to say, it’s working.
“When we get to the palace,” he goes on, “you stay by my side. You don’t leave my side for any reason or any excuse. Do you understand?”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
He presses harder on my calf muscle and my eyes pop open. “Too hard.”
“Do you understand, Win?”
“Fine. Yes. I understand.”
He continues up the curve of my leg, massaging at the back of my thigh, and I breathe out in an excited little gasp as he gets closer to my center.
“You got enough for one day,” he says.
“How dare you,” I say.
He chuckles, and it’s the single greatest sound in the world.
“Needy little whore.”
“Always.”
My eyes are closed again but I know he’s smiling.
