I’m sure she wanted me dead.
The hair along my forearms rises and I sense the shadow at the center of me.
We were meant to be, it says.
And yet Cherry had to betray me for it to happen. Does that absolve her of her guilt? Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe with her gone, it no longer matters.
Kas slips in around me for the closet. The door creaks on its old hinges and Kas disappears inside.
“Cherry didn’t have a lot,” he says from the darkness. “But she did accompany Pan to the palace on a few occasions and he made sure she had the appropriate attire. It’ll have to do on short notice.”
I circle Cherry’s room. It’s in disarray. The frenzy of someone leaving quickly.
There’s a sweater on the end of the bed and I pick it up, rub the fabric between my fingers. It’s threadbare but soft. Well-loved. And I can’t help but think of all the pieces of myself I’ve left dotted around the country as Mom and I left quickly, hoping to escape a landlord demanding rent, or a man who got a little too close in Mom’s work.
There was one thing Cherry and I had in common: our belongings were all we had. There was never a home.
“Oh, Cherry,” I say.
“What was that?” Kas comes out of the closet, a dress in hand.
“Nothing,” I answer and then take in the dress hanging from the wooden hanger. “Holy shit.”
“It’s her best one.” Kas lifts it so I can see the full train.
“It’s gorgeous.”
The material is a vibrant shade of emerald green with a full, poofy skirt and a long train that would easily trail behind me by several feet.
“I’ve never worn something so fancy.”
Kas takes the dress off the hanger and unbuttons the back for me. “Step in and I’ll button it up.”
I untie my robe and toss it aside. Kas’s gaze sharpens when he sees I’m still naked beneath.
Kas once denied me when I tried to get him into bed. Actually, no, he did get into the bed, but he did not let me ravish his fine-as-hell body.
Several locks of dark hair hang in front of his face like he tied his hair back quickly and missed several strands. His shirt is slightly askew and the hard line of his collarbone sticks out. Too bad he isn’t shirtless. God, I could just stare at him all day long. Kas has the muscles of Hollywood action heroes and I just want to grope at him inappropriately.
“When Bash ties me up, will you join us?”
He cocks his head and the stray locks catch on his mouth. “That’s always been his game.”
“And what’s yours?”
The question makes him turn inward. I can see the thought in his eyes. When he comes back to me a few seconds later, he says, “To go slow.”
We lock eyes in the small space between us, me still naked, Kas still holding the dress.
Now I know why he loved forcing me to orgasm over and over when I was tied to the Never Tree. Prolonged pleasure, again and again. It nearly drove me mad. I’m wet just thinking about it, my pussy throbbing now.
“I want that,” I tell him, and my skin pops with goosebumps. “Tease me until I can’t think straight.”
“When you’ve earned it,” he says, the corner of his mouth curving. “Now be a good girl and get in the dress, Darling.”
“If you insist.” I step into it and Kas pulls the dress up so I can slip my arms in through the open sleeves. When the dress settles on my body, it’s obvious right away it’s too big. I’ve put on weight since being on Neverland, but my chest will always be smaller than Cherry’s.
The bodice has a high neckline with a bold leaf pattern embroidered in gold on the green fabric. More gold embroidery lines the hem of the skirt, and the delicate folds of fabric where the skirt meets the bodice.
Kas does the fasteners that dot along the spine.
“I don’t know if this will work.”
“Just let me get it on and then we’ll adjust.”
I frown. “You’re a seamstress now?”
“Something like that.”
When he buttons the last button at the nape of my neck, he comes around. There is just one window in Cherry’s room and with the gray skies, the light is muted so it just brushes against Kas’s silhouette.
He squints at me, taking me in, and then, “Close your eyes.”
I smile, liking where this is going.
“We don’t have time for that,” he says with a chuckle, already reading my line of thought.
“Okay, fine.”
I do as commanded. The shadow stirs.
The hair raises along my arms as the air changes. I catch the faintest scent of earth and wet moss, maybe a little bit of something sweet, like lemongrass. The scent stirs something old in me, a long-forgotten memory with the barest hint of a fingerprint.
The dress tightens across my middle. I let out a startled gasp.
“Almost done,” Kas says. “Keep your eyes closed.”
The heaviness of my wet hair disappears even though I can still sense Kas in front of me, not touching me, even though I wish he was.
“Okay, open,” Kas commands.
I peek at him. He’s grinning.
Looking down at the dress, I find the bodice snuggly against my breasts the way it should have been if it were made specifically for me.
Kas takes me by the wrist and pulls me toward Cherry’s dresser and the mirror that hangs on the wall above it.
When I catch my reflection, I curse with surprise. Kas laughs.
“What did you do?”
My hair is dry now and swept back from my face, twisted at the back of my head into a complicated chignon. Several wispy strands of hair hang along my jawline.
On closer inspection, I realize I’m also wearing makeup.
“It’s an illusion, and a damn good one if I say so myself.”
“You are an artist.” My cheeks are rosy, my lips soft pink. There is a dusting of glittery eyeshadow on my lids and a sweep of dark mascara.
“See,” he says and takes my hand like a gentleman and gestures for me to twirl. “It’ll work just fine.”
A half hour later, I’m in the kitchen sitting at the island stuffing my face. Bash has heated up the leftover chicken and biscuits for me and though I’ve had plenty of chicken and biscuits in my life, these are by far the best.
The biscuit is buttery and rich with flecks of a green herb that’s been folded into the butter he used on the golden-brown top. The chicken is moist, flavorful, the cut veggies somehow the best cut veggies in the world. I don’t understand it. I’ve never loved peas but when Bash prepares them, I could pop them like candy.
He watches me eat from across the island as he leans into the opposite counter, an arm crossed over his middle, a cup of coffee in the other hand.
He’s smiling.
Spoon midway to my mouth, I stop. “What? Why are you staring at me?”
“Nothing.” He smiles wider. “I just like watching you eat my food. It makes me happy.”
“Happy or insufferably proud?”
“Ha.” He sips from his coffee and the steam kisses his face. “Both.”
I sense Vane coming up behind me. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“I’m busy,” Bash says.
“I wouldn’t let him put a shirt on,” I tell Vane.