It’s Vane that spots me first and he sobers, shaking off the effects of being in love.
They cross the room.
“Pan,” Vane starts, but I cut him off.
“Darling, get me a drink.”
She grits her teeth. I can feel her eyes on me for a beat before she goes to the bar behind me. The cork pops out of a bottle, a glass thunks on the bar. I can hear the glug-glug of liquor. Vane stares at me.
I know I turn into an asshole when I am afraid.
I can’t breathe.
Fill my lungs with more smoke. Burn and burn and burn.
Darling comes around the chair and holds out the glass. “For the Never King.” Her tone is snide.
I snatch the glass from her and drink it back. “Another.”
“What, am I your maid now?”
I sit upright. “Get. Me. Another.”
The air shifts. It turns into needles on my skin, a sharp prick of air. Darling’s eyes bleed to black. “How dare you—”
Vane steps between us, but he faces Darling. “Eyes on me,” he says. She turns her chin, gazing up at him. The air undulates around her like heat from oil. “Sit down.”
When Vane gives her an order, she sits. She drops onto the couch with a huff and crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyes return to their bright, fiery green and she pierces me with them.
Vane sits on the low table between us. “What’s wrong?” he asks me.
“Nothing is wrong,” I tell him.
Lies.
He frowns, putting his arms to his thighs, hands in front of him.
“What is wrong, Pan? Talk to me.”
Never King.
Never King.
You cannot have light…
I cannot fucking have peace either.
“What’s wrong?” I growl back at him. “What’s fucking wrong, Vane? Tinker Bell is back. Neverland is snowing. The lagoon is fucking with me. The twins will leave and I don’t—” I cut myself off with a grit of teeth.
“You don’t what?” he coaxes.
I don’t deserve the shadow.
I killed Tink the coward’s way and when faced with her a second time, I chose the same path.
If the lagoon was trying to teach me a lesson, I’ve missed it. Or willfully ignored it.
I close my eyes and rub at them with thumb and forefinger. “It’s nothing.” Everything hurts. I want to crawl out of my skin. I stub out the cigarette in the nearest ashtray and stand. “Don’t leave her side,” I tell Vane.
“I won’t,” he promises.
Darling has softened, but her arms are still crossed.
I want to go to her. I want to feel the warmth of her skin and hear her soft little moans as I fill her up. I want to lose myself in her.
Instead, I turn and walk away.
10
WINNIE
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.