Devour the Dark (Devourer #2)

3. Vane

CHAPTER THREE

VANE

I always think of Poe when I’m with Win.

Deep into that darkness peering…

I think of who I was before her.

…long I stood there, wondering, fearing…

And I think about who I am now that I have her.

…dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream…

Sometimes, I’m afraid she’ll disappear right before my eyes.

Like a mirage, waters turning to sand, trickling through my fingers.

I never dared to dream of someone like her.

Dreams are for the weak.

“Vane,” she moans and writhes beneath me.

I’m buried deep inside of her, chasing the heat of her.

The soft flesh of her thighs dimples beneath the hard press of my hands.

I hold on. I hold on tighter.

Long I stood there, wondering, fearing…

“Oh god,” she says.

I rock out, push in again.

Her chest is flushed, her nipples pebbled.

Her gaze is far away and then her body starts to float up off the bed.

“Eyes on me, Win,” I order, and she refocuses, her weight hitting the mattress again.

She hasn’t had the Neverland shadow long, and she still loses her grip on the magic.

Especially when I’m fucking her.

Her tiny hand wraps around my wrist, anchoring her to me.

“Harder,” she says on a pant.

“I fuck you any harder, I’m going to break you.”

“No, you won’t,” she says.

I drive deeper, fully sheathed in her pussy now. The bed hates this and groans loudly, the headboard banging against the wall.

The entire house knows what we’re up to, but fuck them.

Fuck all of them.

She’s mine right now and I’ll do with her as I please.

She whimpers, her grip on me tightening. Her body is at rest, but the magic is slipping again, and darkness spins around us.

We share the Neverland Dark Shadow, but most days, it clings to her more than me. It’s with me begrudgingly because of her. And I don’t fight it.

Winnie Darling is the queen of this house and the dark goddess of this island.

I’m happy to relent.

Except when we’re in bed.

Then I’m in charge.

I yank the magic back, and the darkness condenses into a thick cloud.

I drive forward into her, punishing her, and she moans loudly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

The darkness of the shadow ropes itself around her hips, then spills forward, down the V between her thighs before riding back up to her clit.

Win hisses in pleasure.

The darkness moves like a river, constantly in motion, teasing at her center, pulling her closer and closer to the edge.

“Vane,” she says. “Fill me up.”

“As if you tell me what to do.”

“Vane,” she moans again and the magic between us throbs, and I feel her answering clench, her pussy tightening around my cock.

I don’t come until she comes. That’s my rule. One I will never break.

I direct the moving darkness over her clit, covering her completely. In this moment, I and the magic possess her, teasing her to the crescendo.

“Come for me, Winnie Darling. Don’t disappoint me.”

She moans, high and short.

And then she’s tensing up beneath me, the orgasm rushing through her.

“Oh… god .” She turns the word into a breathy moan.

There is no art, no magic, no poetry, no glory of nature more beautiful than Winnie fucking Darling coming on my cock.

I am in awe of her.

I am consumed by her.

The magic we share expands, darkness shimmering around the room, and I am in the dream, dreaming no dream any man ever dared to dream.

She has me.

Every part.

Heart and soul and every dark urge.

I am hers.

And she is fucking mine .

I drive into her, making her take every fucking inch of me just like she asked.

And then I’m spilling inside of her, filling her up, all of the pressure rushing out of me.

She watches me beneath long lashes and heavy eyes.

She smiles when a tremor runs through me.

“I love watching you come,” she tells me.

“You are a glutton.”

“For Lost Boy cum,” she adds.

I laugh, lean into her, and kiss her. The kiss is not the same tenor of the fucking. The kiss is desperation. A religious rite. The kiss says, I worship you, Winnie Darling.

“I love you,” she says when I pull away. “Every day, I love you more than the day before.”

“You know it terrifies me when you say that.” I roll over onto the bed beside her.

“Yes. But you never tell me why.”

I am not human, and with the shadow, neither is Win anymore, but I’ve experienced heartbreak, loss…

It’s the closest I’ve felt to being mortal.

I’m terrified of losing her. I’m terrified of never measuring up. Terrified of my past repeating.

Win slides over, resting her head against my damp chest and I wrap my arm around her, tucking her in.

I don’t have to explain any of this to her. I know she knows it.

The shadow makes hiding things from each other annoyingly difficult.

“I love you too,” I whisper into her hair and close my eyes and drink in the scent of her.

This moment is mine, but it won’t be for much longer.

The sun is setting, which means Pan will be up, and I can hear the twins in the kitchen preparing Win a meal.

But I’ll take whatever few minutes I can get.

“What should we do today?” she asks me.

I play with the ends of her hair. “Pan wants to check on the land.”

Now that the fae and the Lost Boys are united, we’ve decided to build a new castle for all. The land is being prepared with construction beginning soon.

Win groans against me. “I want to have a bonfire and a party.”

“Pan will tell you no.”

“That’s why you should suggest it.”

I shift on the pillow so I can meet her eyes. There is a lock of hair over her forehead, so I swipe it back, and she arches toward me, always desperate for my touch.

“I would never suggest a party. He knows me better than that.”

She groans again. “Maybe you and Pan can go check on the land while Kas, Bash, and I have a party.”

“You think Pan will allow you to get drunk with the twins? Think again.”

Pan has learned to give up some of his control over our Darling, but there are some things he will never relent on. He’s too possessive to allow her to have too much fun outside of his careful eye.

He’s lost too much to grow complacent. We all have.

“Okay, well then?—”

She’s cut off by a knocking on the front door.

We don’t get many visitors these days. It used to be Lost Girls showing up on our doorstep looking for a good time, but not anymore. Not only do we have the one and only woman we will ever need, but Winnie Darling would gut them for even considering it.

I climb out of bed and pull on pants. Win is up and slipping into her dress a second later.

“Are we expecting anyone?” she asks me.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Winnie follows me down the hall into the loft where the Never Tree is glowing with pixie bugs.

Voices filter up from the foyer.

Kas and Bash are at the front door, shirtless, their wings folded against their backs.

There’s a girl on the stoop. No one I recognize.

“I’m here for Vane,” she tells the twins.

“Sorry,” Bash says. “Vane is occupied.”

“And not interested,” Kas adds.

They start to shut the door, but the girl shoves her foot in, blocking it. She’s quick, brave.

“It’s important,” she insists.

“Doubtful,” Bash says. “Everything of importance is here, under our roof. So if you would kindly fuck off?—”

“It’s about his brother.”

Win and I share a look.

Roc left the island not long after Captain Hook. Pan forbade him from returning. Apparently, my brother tried to kill Pan. Or he helped Pan figure out his true form by killing him. I’m still unclear on the details, and honestly, I don’t really fucking care.

Hand trailing along the banister, I make my way down with Winnie right behind me. The shadow likes it when we stay close. I often use it as an excuse to keep her near.

When I come up behind Kas and Bash, they step aside, revealing the girl in the early evening light.

If I had to place her island, I’d say Winterlander. She has the straight black hair and deep brown eyes of the people who call the Winterland Alps home.

She takes in the sight of me in nothing but pants, starting with my feet, then up to my chest, landing finally on my face.

I’m used to people hungering for me. I know what I look like. It’s annoying if I’m fucking honest. As if the only thing interesting about me is my appearance. If someone stares too long, I immediately know their measure: shallow, dull, pathetic .

But the girl’s interest isn’t hungry. It’s distantly curious. Lacking that raw edge of hunger. Almost academic.

Almost like she wants to pin me to a board and study me.

That might be worse than lust.

“Whatever my brother has done,” I say, “it has no bearing on me. Whatever you’re here to tell me, I don’t care.” I turn away and expect Winnie to follow.

But she doesn’t.

She takes a step down, then another. “How do you know Roc?” she asks the girl.

I pause beneath the Never Tree. The pixie bugs buzz above me as if they sense the rising tide of tension.

“I don’t know him well,” the girl answers. “I’ve only just met him.”

“So then why are you here on his behalf?”

I hear the girl inhale. It’s a breath of preparation, the kind that proceeds an important detail.

The showman’s reveal.

I turn back.

“To be honest, I’m more so here on behalf of my best friend.”

“And who is that?”

“Wendy,” she says. “Wendy Darling.”