Gods, I liked Pan watching. I’d liked it more than I probably should have.
The memory, still so vivid, comes back to me and heat sinks to my clit.
I’m suddenly starving for something that doesn’t go in my belly.
Goosebumps run up my arms and I rub my hand over my sweater, trying to drive away the excited chill.
“Cherry wants you to come to the bonfire tonight. Do you want to come?”
“Peter Pan is okay with it?”
Kas makes a little cringe with his puffy lips. To think of those lips on my— Good god, I’m a captive here and all I can think about is these boys taking me.
What is wrong with me?
I thought I was going to go mad yesterday. This is far better.
I’ll take this any day of the week.
Maybe I am just a kid that’s been let loose in a carnival.
“I take it that’s a no?” I ask.
“He’s still in his tomb so he doesn’t know. It’s debatable how he’ll feel about it when he wakes.”
“Then we should be good and drunk by then just to be safe.”
He laughs again and watches me with an intensity that makes my insides soar. “You’re different than the others,” he says, his voice low, catching.
“Am I?”
He nods. “We’re always prepared for screaming and sobbing and begging when a Darling comes. You’re just sitting here pretending like you’re on vacation.”
“Oh? This isn’t a resort?”
“See what I mean?” He scratches at the back of his head. His long hair is still tied up in a bun. I wonder how long it is when it’s let loose. He is gorgeous in his own right. Different from Pan and Vane. They’re all gorgeous.
It makes the basketball team look like a bunch of ferrets.
“Wait, did you say Pan was in his tomb?”
Kas winces.
“Why is he in a tomb?”
“A conversation for another day. If you’re hungry, Bash is in the kitchen.”
“You guys like feeding me.”
His gaze wanders over my body. “You look like you need feeding.”
It’s all fun and games until they notice your fault lines, until they pry them open and peer inside.
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m secretly an assassin. Makes it easier to get into tight spaces.”
He frowns at me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend. This island has been pretending for far too long.” He turns for the door. “Come out when you’re ready.” And then he’s gone.
I sit with his words for a while.
The problem is, I don’t know how to stop pretending.
When I come out into the kitchen, I find Bash alone.
Late sunlight is pouring through the windows and in the distance, it’s painting the ocean in shimmering strokes of gold and pink.
Bash is at the counter whipping things together in a bowl. He’s shirtless and all of the muscles and tendons in his arms and across his chest are moving in sync in a way that is almost hypnotizing.
He’s clearly the cook in the house, but I don’t think there’s much fat on him. He is cut like stone.
“Good morning, Darling,” he says and looks up while he stirs.
“Afternoon, you mean?”
“Close enough.” He winks at me while a lock of his black hair falls over his forehead.
“What are you making?”
“Honeysuckle tarts.”
“They sound delicious.”
“They will be.”
I slide onto one of the stools across the island from him. “You think highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“If you are not the most interesting person you know, then you’re doing it wrong.”
I arch a brow. “Some would call that narcissism.”
“If you don’t hold yourself on a pedestal, then who will?”
I reach over the island and stick my finger in the batter.
“Darling,” he says and tsk-tsks at me. “Good girls wait their turn.”
His gaze has darkened.
My belly dips and my pussy clenches.
Well.
I suck my finger into my mouth and clean it off.
He doesn’t take his eyes off of me.
His jaw clenches and then he sets the bowl down, dips his finger into it, and reaches across the island. “Looks like I need mine cleaned off too.”
Fuck. I’ve played this game before, but never with someone like Bash.
Usually I’m the one baiting the hook. Not the other way around. I don’t know what to do with myself. I suddenly feel naive and out of my depth.