Or maybe he already is.
Honestly I don’t really know much about Roc other than he’s psychotic and known in the Isles as the Devourer of Men.
Jas is terrified of him.
I’ve never seen him twitch just at the mention of another man quite like he does with Roc.
Does Jas know his arch nemesis has returned to Neverland?
I might want to return to his end of the island just to be the one to tell him to see the blood drain from his face.
I am still nursing a grudge against my brother. And this might satisfy some of it.
Roc reaches over and takes my fingers in his hand, and bends my knuckles to his mouth. He plants a lingering kiss and keeps his gaze trained on me.
I shiver.
While he and Vane share the same bone structure—sharp cheekbones, a cut jaw, and full lips—his eyes are bright green.
Heat builds in my chest. I could get used to this kind of attention.
“Christ,” Vane says and bats his brother away from me. “Not that one.”
“She’s gorgeous though. Look at all those freckles. And you know how I feel about red heads.”
“She’s Hook’s little sister.”
“Even more of a reason.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Roc?”
“I’m sure you know.”
They look at one another and I swear the air between them whirls with heat.
Why do I get the feeling that Roc’s challenge is barbed? There is a double meaning behind his words.
Vane narrows his eyes.
“What did the fae queen tell you?”
“Ahhh see. You do know.” Roc smooths over his hair and then hooks his arm around my shoulders. He smells like expensive cologne and sweet liquor and burning tobacco.
“Hi Cherry,” he says down to me.
“Hi.”
“Where would a man find Peter Pan around here?”
“Roc,” Vane says in warning.
Up ahead, the Treehouse is starting to light up in the coming night. I can already hear music playing from behind the house where the Lost Boys are probably already half drunk.
“I’m sure he’s somewhere in the house,” I tell Roc. “Probably with Winnie.”
“The new Darling.”
I swallow. “Yes.”
Roc looks over his shoulder at his brother and says, “How adorable. Take me to them, if you please.”
12
WINNIE
I’ve been floating in the lagoon for countless minutes, maybe hours, with Peter Pan watching me like a guard on the shore.
As soon as I was on my feet after Smee left, he took my hand, dragged me from the house, through the forest and to the lagoon.
“Get in,” he had ordered.
“I’m fine,” I protested to which he said, “Get in the goddamn water Darling before I toss you in.”
With a huff, I peeled off my clothes and waded in and though I don’t like to admit when Peter Pan is right, as soon as the water was lapping around my shoulders, I felt infinitely better.
Now I’m on my back floating and even though I’ve been in the water forever, my fingers aren’t even pruned.
“Why don’t you come in?” I call to Pan.
“The lagoon and I have an understanding,” he answers.
I roll over and tread water so I can look at him on the shore. He’s got his back propped against a large rock that sits on the edge of the woods. One of his legs is stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee, his arm draped over it.
His feet are bare.
There is nothing quite so intimate as the bare feet of a myth.
“What sort of understanding?”
“The one where I don’t get in.”
More secrets between him and the island. I know his first memories are of the lagoon and that he believes it’s the lagoon that birthed him.
I know he’s afraid of losing his shadow again and that probably he thinks it’s the lagoon that gave it to him in the first place.
Peter Pan is ancient but even he is afraid of something, but how odd that he’s afraid of a lagoon and an island laying down judgement.
Because even if he won’t admit it, somehow I know that to be true.
I think Peter Pan might be unconsciously worried that while he reclaimed his shadow, he no longer deserves it.
My stomach growls again and I’m reminded we never had our pancake breakfast.
“Are you hungry, Darling?” Pan asks.
“I could eat,” I say.
“Come out.” He stands up and grabs my dress from the sand and gives it a shake.
“But the water is so nice,” I complain.