Veiled in Stars and Silver: A Peter Pan Fairy Tale Romance

Chapter 4

I sat in the boughs of a giant Nevertree, waiting for Tinker Bell to return from her scouting mission. The green leaves were larger than any I had ever seen in London and did an excellent job of obscuring me from view.

Vengeance burned inside me, and I checked my knives. Having left my cloak behind with Peter, they were now in sheaths strapped to my thigh. How good it would feel to plunge them into the captain of the Jolly Roger. My hand trembled, and I forced it to steady, not allowing myself to think of John and Michael. I could fall apart later. It was time to act.

I peered through a gap between the foliage, catching sight of Tink’s glow as she streaked through the air.

Alighting onto a branch next to me, the little fairy tinkled. I shook my head. “Sorry. I can’t understand you.”

She stamped her feet, her hands on her hips.

Maybe this was a mistake. Tink had never really liked me.

The fairy shot straight up into the sky.

“Hey! Wait!” I flew after her. We went up so high, we were above the clouds and the vast stretch of sea laid out before me, the sun beating down, the breeze whipping at my braid. The Jolly Roger was moored out among the rolling, choppy waters.

Tink dropped close to the cloud and pointed toward the pirate ship, no more than a toy model I and my brothers used to play with from this height. “It looks as if the rear window is open?” I looked at Tink for confirmation.

She gave me a mock hand clap. I assumed that meant I was on track. Then the little fairy curled her finger and shook it.

“Those are Hook’s quarters?”

Tink clapped her hands again. Then shook her curled finger again at me.

“And Hook is in there?”

Another hand clap.

I squinted at the ship. I didn’t see any movement on deck. “What about the watch?” If I dropped below the sparse smattering of clouds and approached the Jolly Roger, I’d be seen.

Tink folded her hands and pressed her head against them, pretending to snore.

“They’re asleep?”

Again, she gave me a hand clap.

“And Hook?”

She pretended to snore some more.

“He’s asleep, too?”

More clapping.

“I guess now is a good time to go.”

The little fairy tapped her foot and gave me a look that seemed to say. “What are you waiting for?”

“Thanks, Tink.”

She rolled her eyes in response and zipped off. I took a deep breath and double-checked my knives. This was it. I dropped beneath the clouds and descended to the Jolly Roger.

Part of me was tense, waiting to be spotted and the alarm to be sounded any moment, but I made it to the ajar window with no noticeable sign from the tenants on board the ship. The opening was large enough for me to slip right through.

I landed, near silently, onto the wooden floor.

Hook’s quarters were spacious. I saw a bed through a small door, but the main area comprised a large wooden desk, an armoire with a mirror, and walls made of drawers and other compartments. A length of rope knocked steadily against the one wooden post in the middle of the room, timing the rock of the ship.

And there he was. Hook lay on a thin chaise longue, out cold, a cup of ginger-colored rum in his good hand, resting on the floor. His ruffled shirt was split open, revealing a tattooed chest and his hook rested gently on his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. A small earring pierced his left ear, and a golden chain bunched around his Adam’s apple, the end disappearing into his shirt. He was tall and a little lean, though the thickness in his neck, not to mention the thin fabric covering his torso, revealed he possessed plenty of muscle.

I crept toward him. He was… handsome. In my mind, I always remembered Hook as a man so much older than me, but as I gazed upon him, I noticed his unblemished face, and his disheveled locks, as black as night, with not one gray hair. A light shadow covered his cheeks and chin. He appeared to be somewhere around the age of twenty-five. Neverland stopped time for everyone. It was only I who had grown and matured in the eight years since I’d been gone.

I paused right next to him and glared down at his still form. Matured enough to be more than a match for the man before me. The coldness rose into my veins. An icy anger that went beyond anything I’d felt before. Forget trying to get on his good side. I’d give him one chance to reveal the location of the magical book Peter wanted, and if he refused, I’d end him. Reaching to my thigh, I pulled my first throwing knife, clenching it in my palm.

Hook’s eyes flew open, and he jolted up from the chaise longue. I had barely enough time to realize I’d been played before I found myself in the arms of the captain of the Jolly Roger. He held me pinned against his chest, his good arm spanning across me to keep both of mine trapped at my sides. A cold metal point pricked against my throat. Somehow when he stopped moving, we both stood in front of the full-length mirror on the outside of his armoire.

I saw the flash of fear in my own green eyes as I took in the tip of his hook against the soft skin of my throat, ready to rip me open. He loomed behind me, and held me so tight against him, there’d be no way of ramming the knife in my hand into any sensitive spots. I’d be lucky to nick his leg. His forget-me-not blue eyes watched me in the glass with a cavalier triumph.

“Don’t you know a captain must always sleep with one eye open? I wondered who Pan might send to take me out.” His voice was deep and velvety in my ear. “Welcome back to Neverland, Wendy Darling.”

He was a whole head taller than me, and I hated how he bent it toward me, how his cheek grazed my hair. My anger morphed into a frustration that grated in the pit of my stomach. I’d come this far, and he’d gotten the best of me in a matter of seconds.

Well, I didn’t need to play fair either.

I dropped my gaze and looked up through my lashes like I’d often seen other girls do when flirting. “You are mistaken. I’m not here to kill you.”

He raised a brow. “Am I? What, pray tell, is that knife doing in your hand?”

I forced a smile, taking on a wicked tint, the mirror helping me know I’d nailed it. “I heard you like to play rough.”

I thrust my shoulders back into him and let that movement roll down my body all the way to my hips, which I pushed into him with a sudden grating force. I did it again, grateful for the mirror as I mimicked the movements I’d seen Mrs. Blackwell’s outline do from across the street through the woman’s sheer curtains.

Hook’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?”

Doubt filled me. Maybe I was being foolish. But his grip on me loosened to let me move against him more freely. And I did, bending my knees to drag up and down over his form. His gaze took on a tinge of gray, the clear blue giving away to the tempestuous waves of the sea. On the next roll of my body, his hand dipped to my hips, and he pressed me back against him. His arm kept my knife hand pinned as he moved with me.

“Is this what you really wanted?” he murmured, his voice unyielding and yet seductive.

My heart pounded. A raging heat combined with my anger moved in my skin. I fought through the muddiness of his warmth that surrounded me. His scent, some heady mix of the sea and a light tinge of sweetness. I could see in the mirror how flushed my skin had become, my eyes glittering with a darkness I’d never seen before. His hook dipped away from my throat. It traced a cold light path over my chest, traveling beneath the line of my shirt. He thrust against me, and a ragged breath slid out of him. My plan had worked. I should move now, plunge my knife into his black heart. Instead, I watched our reflection as my body moved with his, experiencing something it had never experienced before. Something new and unexpectedly dominating.

With the man who had killed my brothers.

The thought was like a blast of sleet to my face. My teeth grit together, and I grabbed his hook and jerked away, raising my knife. It sliced into his shoulder. Hook looked even more surprised by the swiftness of my actions. The thin fabric of his shirt ripped. He tried to stumble back, but my blade snagged on the brace near his shoulder. I gave extra effort, yanking it hard until it gave, and we both fell away from each other. His hook caught the side of his large mahogany desk to stop his backward momentum. I slammed back into the mirror, his blood dripping from my knife onto the paneled floor.

Hook ran a finger along the jagged line I’d torn into his flesh. Even I could tell it lacked depth. A smirk crossed his lips. “You managed to wound me, which means you must not be under his power.” He took in the gash in the fabric over his shoulder and disappointment crossed his face. “You ruined my favorite shirt.”

Oh, I was going to do more than that. I lunged forward, gripped his hook, and yanked hard. He shouted in surprise as the whole brace, straps and all, pulled away from his arm, like a hidden snake pouring out of his shirt sleeve. I threw it to the floor, revealing the leather strap I had cut that allowed me to de-hook him. With a cry, I rushed him with such force he stumbled back, hitting the wall. I pressed my bloodied knife against his throat.

For the first time, concern rose in his eyes. “You don’t want to kill me.”

I pressed the knife harder, and a bead of blood slid down his skin. “I really do.”

“Look, lass. I didn’t want to kidnap your brothers. I had no choice. Pan—”

“You killed my brothers,” I snarled.

Hook blinked. “Your brothers are alive. I saw them with the Lost Boys only last week.”

The shock of his words pierced me, and a burning stung behind my eyes. “You lie.”

“I swear on my life. They were out playing with the never birds around Mermaid Cove. Now, I don’t know what happened after that, but I’d bet my good hand they are alive, somewhere on that island.”

The knife in my grip trembled at his throat. Could my brothers be alive? The spark of hope battled with my distrust of the man in front of me. “Peter said—”

“The Neverland you remember as a child isn’t the same as the one you’re going to experience now that you’re grown.” His expression grew dark. “That cocky boy isn’t the noble hero you think he is. Pan is the tyrant master of this world from whom Neverland must be freed.”

I let out a derisive laugh. “You were better off claiming my brothers were alive.”

“You don’t understand everything he has—”

“Why should I believe a single word you say?”

“Other than it’s the truth? Besides, you won’t kill me, yet. He sent you looking for that precious spellbook, didn’t he?”

I gripped his wrist, which was slipping toward the throwing knives on my thigh, and shoved it against the wall, digging my knife deeper into his throat, eliciting a worried sound from him.

“It was optional,” I said.

He swallowed. Much of the haughtiness from earlier was gone. “How about we make a deal? You give me the jeweled dagger you carry belted at your waist, and I’ll help you find your brothers.”

I willed my hand to remain steady as I fought to hide my surprise. He was trying to catch me off guard. “What jeweled dagger?”

His brows drew together, and he stared at me as if I were crazy. “The dagger with the skull hilt and ruby-encrusted eyes that you wear, nestled right above your beguiling hips…”

I released him and stepped back so he could see my entire form.

Hook’s gaze raked over me. He paled. “Wendy, where’s the dagger?”

“It was you.” I pointed the bloody knife at him. “You hired that man to swindle me out of my magic blade in return for fake fairy dust.”

Desperation took over his face. “Tell me you know where it is.”

“Why do you want it?”

He ran his hand through his tousled hair. It fell, short black tendrils curling around his ears. “That dagger is everything,” he said, his eyes filled with a barely contained panic.

I raised my chin. In that moment, he didn’t appear like the evil captain I had long pictured in my worst nightmares. He looked like a man, frantic to keep some semblance of hope alive.

“This is the deal,” I said. “You help me find my brothers. If we retrieve them alive, then I will give you the dagger.”

He nodded, his messy hair bobbing. “Fine, lass. We’ll do it your way.”

I stepped up to him and wiped his blood from my throwing knife onto his trousers—an easy form of vindictiveness. But Hook didn’t even respond, and this close to him, I could see that he was shaking.

He pushed off the wall, stepping away from me. He cleaned his bloody fingers on a cloth on his desk, then picked a rolled parchment out of a box which sat on the floor. By the time he straightened, the easy arrogance was back in his movements. Turning, he held it out to me. “If you will?”

Casting a glance at his missing hand, I took the parchment and unfurled it on the desktop, revealing a map of Neverland.

“Wait.” He stepped over to the open window and jerked it shut, latching it, and pulling the drapes. I raised an eyebrow as he struggled to light a lantern. Was Hook paranoid?

He reached into his pocket and drew out a small vial of aquamarine liquid. “When I signal you, speak your brothers” names.”

“I’m sorry?”

He sighed. “I’m going to cast a spell to find your brothers. Do try to keep up.”

My mouth fell open. “You. Cast a spell?”

“What? You thought I’d collected that spellbook so I could gaze at it?”

My mouth snapped shut. My heart leaped in my chest. Dared I hope? No, it must be a trick. But why would he go to such lengths for his lie? “And you can find my brothers?”

He bit the stopper out of the vial, spitting it onto the floor, and began chanting in a language that I didn’t understand. My hand, still pressing the map open, tightened on the hilt of my knife. I didn’t stop him, though I felt vulnerable leaning over the desk, holding the unfurled parchment. He motioned toward me.

“John Darling. Michael Darling,” I said.

Hook repeated the names and then leaned forward and poured the potion over the map. I watched in amazement as a thin trail of liquid slid along the old paper, not soiling it in the least. He continued to chant and pressed his handless arm against the parchment, trailing the path beneath the line of liquid. I tried not to flinch at the sight of the jagged, scarred skin pinched together unnaturally where his hand should have been.

The trail stopped at Marooners’ Rock.

I sucked in a sharp breath. I knew Marooners’ Rock from when Hook had kidnapped Tiger Lily and chained her there to drown. If my brothers were there…

“When is the next high tide?” I asked.

Hook’s brows drew together. “Sometimes the Lost Boys play around that point. There may be nothing wrong, but…”

Fear lanced through me. “But?”

“But if for some reason they are chained to the rock, then we are short on time.”

“So, we go to Marooners’ Rock and rescue my brothers.”

“Not yet.”

My eyes narrowed. “I thought you said we are short on time.”

“We are.” He bent and picked up his arm brace and examined the broken strap. “Brimstone and gall, Wendy. I only have two of these.” He held it out to me. “If you’ll unscrew the hook.”

I set my bloody knife on the desk and took the brace from him. It secured his hook with straps and braces that wrapped around both shoulders for stability. I had cut the one strap that held everything together. “Then what are we doing?”

He headed over to his wardrobe and threw one side open. I unscrewed the hook, watching his every move. Did I believe what he said? Peter had warned me Hook would say anything to trick me. But if there even was a chance that my brothers might be alive, I had to explore it. At least if he did only have two braces, I could easily de-hook him again.

He pulled off his shirt with one hand, revealing skin covered in inked illustrations. The intricate swirls trailed up his back, though they were oddly formed, with no predictable pattern. The mirror on the wardrobe door showed the tattoos continuing onto his chest and abdomen. In the left corner over his breast, two names were scrawled in flowing ink. Arabella and Clare.

My lip curled in disgust. What was the point of tattooing two lovers on his chest?

He lifted out another brace, which he fitted over his left arm, and pulled tight on the straps. Then he stuffed a cloth into his still bleeding shoulder, tucking it under the leather to hold it in place.

“Hook?” I clenched the curved weapon between my palms, my jaw clenching at his unresponsiveness.

He pulled on a fresh white linen shirt, working the left sleeve over the contraption that fitted the hook to his arm. “I am going to get dressed and then I’m going after your brothers.” He noticed the blood on his pants and threw me a dirty look, but didn’t change them. He grabbed an intricately sewn blue overcoat with golden threads and put it on, leaving it untied.

“And what about me?” I asked. “Do you think I’m just going to wait here without you? Because that’s not happening.” I wasn’t even sure if he was telling me the truth. But if there was the slimmest chance that he was, then I had to try.

“Right now? You’re going to attach my hook.” He held out his arm with the missing hand and raised an eyebrow expectantly. I grit my teeth, then aligned the metal and twisted. He watched me, a small sardonic smile on his lips. I took a breath as I spun his hook. There was an intimacy to what I was doing, and I couldn’t help worry that I was sharpening the claws of the beast.

When it clicked in place, I gazed up at him. “And now?”

“And now…” He moved so suddenly, I didn’t have time to react. Before I knew what was happening, he had a rope around me, binding my arms to my sides. He tied the length off behind me, and I heard the clink as he pulled my throwing knives from their sheaths and dropped them to the floor one by one.

He spun me to face him, his expression cruel and dangerous. “I’m throwing you the hell off my ship.”