“I do not have the Death Shadow.”
I’m sitting on Pan’s bed, leaning against the headboard, my knees drawn to my chest. I feel like a little girl again, terrified about having the flu. I always hated throwing up and my stomach had been in knots, my body burning up and trembling. I knew it was inevitable, but still I denied it was happening.
Until it did.
“Darling,” Pan says.
“There must be a mistake.”
“There isn’t. I watched it come out and I watched it take over.”
“And? What did it do?”
His brows draw together in a concerned frown.
I’m covered in blood, so I guess it was bad. But the look he’s giving me has me wondering if there is something worse than bad.
“What happened?” I ask.
He lets out a breath and then tells me everything.
I yank his door open and race up the stairs.
“Darling,” he calls.
“No. I did not do that.”
“Darling, wait.” There is a ring of command in his words, but I ignore him and take the stairs up two at a time. I don’t know what I intend to do once I’m at ground level, but I’ll figure it out.
“I’m going to go to town and prove to you that it’s not true,” I tell him.
“You will do no such thing.”
“Maybe it was an illusion. Maybe the twins were fucking with you.”
“Darling.”
I step out of the tomb and follow the hall to the loft. Vane is there with the twins. The twins are playing a card game and drinking. Vane is reading in one of the leather chairs.
They all look up when we enter and Vane’s eyes narrow when he takes in the sight of me.
“Why is she covered in blood?”
I’m about to tell him the ridiculous theory Pan has when something shifts at the center of me.
It’s something I’ve felt several times since I woke up in my bed earlier.
A dark thing unfurls inside of me and just like with the wolf, I swear I can hear or sense its intent.
I am here, it says.
The pressure dips in the loft. I’m cold and hot at the same time, ears ringing.
There is no way in hell I somehow, mysteriously, magically took on the Neverland Death Shadow.
There really must be some kind of explanation.
Vane stalks up to me and towers over me, purposefully using his size to dominate me.
That dark thing takes notice and excitement pools in my gut.
“Start fucking talking, Darling.”
“Vane,” Pan says in warning. “You really don’t—”
I smack Vane across the face.
The sound is loud in the stillness of the loft.
And there is a deep, sick satisfaction in my gut seeing the red welt appear on his pale cheek.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m in so much trouble.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”
He grabs me around the throat and runs me back against the bar.
“Vane, for Christ’s sake!” Pan says and comes up behind him.
Vane’s eyes are black and the first gleam of white hair appears at his crown. “You want to play games, little Darling girl?”
I’m about to apologize—again—but the words are caged in my mouth and I know immediately that thing stops me.
The air vibrates between us, and Vane tilts his head, black eyes flashing.
Excitement blooms at the base of my throat where I can feel my heart beat thumping wildly.
All of my unease, all of my doubt and fear melts away.
And all that remains is hunger.
Not for food.
Not this time.
When I answer him, the voice that comes out of my throat is not entirely my own. “Yes, Dark One. Play me so hard it hurts.”
My pussy clenches when he growls in the base of his throat and his cock digs into my thigh as he shoves me down. I reach between us and grope him through his pants. His eyes slip closed and his chest rumbles with a groan.
“Stop fucking around, Darling,” he says.
“Try to make me.”
His eyes pop open and then his mouth is crashing against mine. He is punishing with his lips, bruising with his mouth. His large hand grabs me roughly by the jaw, commanding the kiss as his tongue invades me, claiming me.
His cock is so hard, the thick ridge of it against my thigh practically hurts.
The kiss deepens and Vane lets his hand wander to my breast and roll my nipple between his fingers. He swallows the little cry that comes out of me at the shock of pain and then he shoves my dress up around my waist and unzips himself. His pants are barely down before he’s lining himself up at my center and guiding my legs around his hips.
“Why do you do this to me, Win?” he says with a grumble, pushing in an inch just enough to tease me.
“I like it when you lose your fucking mind for me.”
“You like torturing me.”
He nips at my neck and I gasp at the sensation.
“Maybe I do.”
He presses in another inch and I think he might be trying to prove to me that he’s the one in charge of this torture.
I lock my ankles around him and put pressure on his backside trying to sink him further inside of me.
But he is an unmovable force.
Lips at my throat, he kisses gently sending goosebumps down my arms. Then he’s biting again, pinching skin between his sharp incisors.
I shudder and he angles me up to him.
“Beg me, Win.”
I’m dripping wet and writhing against him, the pressure building.
I just want him inside of me and a desperate little whine spills out of my throat.
“Now who’s losing their mind?” he says.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Be a good girl and beg me.”
“Please,” I whine, giving in. “Please fuck me, Vane.”
He presses me into the bar and thrusts in deep.
“Oh fuck yeah,” I say around a moan.
His hands on my ass now, he pumps in hard, banding me against the bar.
Our fucking is loud and wet and frenzied.
Sweat coats my forehead and my hair sticks to me and when I open my eyes and look over Vane’s shoulder, I see them all watching. Pan and Bash and Kas. Pan is smoking a cigarette, leaning against the wall. Bash is groping himself and Kas isn’t far behind.
I want them all.
All mine.
All of them to worship me and play my game.
“Fuck, Win,” Vane says at my ear, his voice barely human.
“You gonna fill me up, Dark One?”
My nails drag down the back of his neck and he hisses into my ear. “Keep fucking doing that and you’ll regret it.”
I dig in deeper and feel the wetness of his blood filling the half-moon wounds left by my nails.
He abruptly pulls out of me, staggers back and leaves me panting, my dress askew.
“What the fuck?” I say.
“I warned you.”
“I thought you were kidding.”
Cock still out and glistening with my juices, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long hit.
That dark thing grows agitated.
After he blows out a breath of smoke, he says, “Start running.”
“Vane,” Pan warns again.
“Start running, Winnie Darling.”
I right my dress. “And if I don’t?”
He doesn’t answer me. I suppose there is no if. When Vane gives a command, you best start running.
The dark thing likes the sound of that.
Likes the game.
And I like the way Vane is looking at me like he’s not sure if he should be punishing me or thanking me.
I turn for the balcony and start running.
