I get less than ten seconds before my skin is cracking and the pain surges through my veins, white hot and prickling.
Without my shadow, the daylight is a death knell.
I have to race to the tomb, smoke curling in my wake.
12
WINNIE
I wake the next morning when the sun is already high in the sky.
The air is warm but breezy and my windows stayed open all night, so the sunlight and the ocean air steals in easily.
If I wasn’t kidnapped and ferried away to some distant island by a myth of a man and then chained to a bed, I’d actually feel like I was on the best vacation of my life.
The waves are a rhythmic rush and trickle against the rocks and beach sand. I pull the wingback over to one of the windows, get comfortable in the seat and then prop my bare feet on the windowsill.
I sit there for an hour just watching the gulls dart back and forth over the beach. There’s no one outside and no one stirs beyond my room. I think this is a house of night owls.
As I sit, I can’t help but daydream about what I did last night.
A tingling heat settles between my legs and I close my thighs together, trying to drive off the arousal.
I wanted to push a wedge in between the Lost Boys, but I might have enjoyed last night far more than I thought I would.
I liked being called a whore.
If Pan called me a whore and fucked me—
“Good morning.”
I lurch upright as Cherry comes in.
“Hell,” I say. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” she says. She comes to the bed and sets down a tray of food.
“What happened to you?” I ask her as I get up. There are scratches on her face and bruises on her arms.
“I fell down.”
“Where? In a barrel of broken glass?”
She ignores me. “I made you fresh coffee. Do you use cream or sugar?”
Beside the coffee, there’s a plate with toast and a bowl of fruit.
“Some cream would be nice.”
She removes the lid from one of the cups and pours in thick cream. The coffee pales.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks.
Oddly enough, yes, I did. Better than I have in a long time.
“Eat,” Cherry says. “I picked the berries fresh this morning. The bush didn’t produce much, but then it rarely does. So these are gold around here. Just so you know.”
I come over to sit on the giant bed. The chain comes with me. Cherry frowns at it.
“You don’t like my new jewelry?” I ask her and lift my arm with a flourish. “It’s very avant-garde.”
She laughs. She has a tinkling laugh that reminds me of Christmas and snow globes and elves.
I pluck a berry from the bowl and pop it in my mouth. Cherry watches me.
“You’re very pretty,” she says.
“I know,” I say.
She frowns at me.
“It’s best you know what your assets are,” I say, almost a parrot of Starla.
Cherry shakes her head. “I don’t know if I have any.”
“Sure you do.” I fold my legs beneath me and take a sip of the coffee. It’s honestly the best cup I’ve ever had. Better than Starbucks.
Why does everything taste better here?
“Your hair and your freckles are an asset,” I tell Cherry. “And you have this innocent look about you. Can you be devious?”
She laughs nervously. “I don’t think so.”
“I bet they underestimate you.”
She knows who I’m talking about.
“I…” She looks down at the sheet tangled at the end of my bed. “I don’t have magic or power. So I don’t think there’s anything to underestimate.”
Hand curled around the coffee mug, I bring it halfway, but watch her through the steam.
She’s lonely and desperate for attention. Something I suspect the Lost Boys will never give her.
I can give her attention. Just one more thing I can use when I need to.
“Who is your favorite?” I ask and take another sip of the coffee. God, it feels good to have something normal. Even though I haven’t been here long, everything is different. I need something that’s not.
“Of the boys?” she asks.
“Yes.”
A smile plays over her mouth and she ducks her head.
“Go on,” I coax. “Spill the secrets.”
“Well…”
“Yes?”
“Vane.”
I grimace with bared teeth. “Seriously?”
She blushes and tucks a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. “There’s just something about him—”