Never (Never, #1) (129)

He grabs me, Peter does. It’s rough, by the arm, and he yanks me over to him.

Within that split second, Jamison’s sword is drawn, Itheelia’s wand (that I didn’t know she had) is drawn, Orson runs in from outside, and Rye starts edging around the table.

“Ye let her go,” Jem tells him, an edge in his eye that makes me feel uneasy.

“Don’t think I will.” Peter shrugs. “She is mine after all.”

Hook pulls a face. “If ye hae to hold on to her thon tightly, is she really?”

Peter’s grip on me loosens, and I snatch my arm away from him, going and standing behind Jem.

Peter nods his chin over at us. “Do you think she’s yours?”

Jamison shrugs with his shoulders and his mouth. “Sure, I think she’s her own, and I’ll fight anybody who says otherwise.”

Peter stands tall. “I say otherwise.”

Jem nods a few times calmly, then gives him an indifferent smile. “Then draw.”

I stare over at him, eyes wide.

Peter scoffs. “Are you challenging me to a duel?”

Jem blows air out of his mouth. “Mate, I’m just trying t’ shut ye up.”

Peter sniffs a little laugh. “Tomorrow. Cannibal Cove.”

“Jem.” I touch his arm, but he shrugs me off.

“When the second sun is a third down the left of the sky,” Peter tells him.

Hook nods. “Okay.”

“To the death,” Peter tells him.

Itheelia’s eyes go wide, but Jamison’s don’t. He just rolls them. “Everything’s so dramatic wi’ ye.” Jem pulls a face, then offers an alternative. “First t’ draw blood.”

Peter shrugs, bored. “Fine.” And then he gives me a glare. “When he bleeds, you’ll come home with me.”

I straighten my back and stare over at him. “There’s no such thing as ‘home with you,’ Peter. You made sure of that.”

Something whispers over his face like sadness, but it’s just for a second and then it’s gone.

Peter brushes past me before he flies off, the Lost Boys running after him.

Itheelia smacks Jamison in the arm. “What were you thinking?”

He scowls at his mother. “I was thinking he cannae talk t’ her like that.”

“He won’t fight fair,” she tells him, and I sidle up next to her.

“She’s right, he won’t.”

Jamison scoffs, looking mildly offended. “I can take on the boy.”

“You mustn’t play fair if he doesn’t,” his mother tells him.

“Sure, but that’d just be poor form. My old man would be rolling in his grave.”

Itheelia gives him a stern look. “Better than you in one alongside him.”

Jem gives her a look before he kisses her cheek, then he hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me out of the rotunda.

“Are y’okay?” he asks after a moment.

I stare straight ahead, breathing out of my nose.

Do I care that Peter looked sad? Do I care that he said he’d drag me back to England himself? That he wants me off this island?

No. I don’t care about any of that, not compared to the burning question I have in the centre of me.

I look up at him, frowning already.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

“No?” Jem’s face pulls back, blinking a couple of times. “No, I’m in love wi’ ye.”

I stare at him, obstinate. “Then why didn’t you tell him we’re together?”

“Daphne.” He sighs. “Do you nae remember when were in the volcano and I almost kissed ye? He was nae there, he daen see it, but the isle felt it for him. Acted on his behalf.” Jamison gives me an exasperated look. “What dae ye think he’d do if he knew?”

I shrug. “He’ll have to know eventually.”

“Aye, he will.” Jem nods. “And when thon day comes, I’ll be there, and I’ll get ye off the island for it.”

Hands on my hips, I roll my eyes at him. He’s as dramatic as Peter. “It won’t be that bad.”

Jamison blows some air out of his mouth and keeps walking. “How much ye underestimate him is wile dangerous,” he calls back to me.

“Jem,” I say, and he can hear the doubt in my voice.

He spins on his heel.

“Daphne, he thinks yer his.” He gives me a long look that’s weighed down with a lot of cute little things, like jealousy and concern. “When he finds out yer not, I d?nnae want to see what he’ll do. I’ll take ye away. We’ll go back t’ London. I’ll—”

I look up at him, my eyes wide as I touch his face. I swallow. “You said something to me just now—”

“No.” He shakes his head and turns around, back to walking. “D?nnae say it now. It’ll just feel like an afterthought after all this.”

“No!” I run after him. “I was just distracted because of the nature of the conversation before, and it felt like you—”

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Moment’s passed. Yer window’s gone.”

He gives me a half a smile and offers me his hand.

He’s in love with me.