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

Chapter 23

The power of the Crocodile released Hook, and he stumbled.

The metallic taste of blood lingered on his lips from the Crocodile’s kiss. He may have been under her control, but he’d heard every damn thing.

Wendy stood on the deck, her hand pulled against her chest as she cradled it, crimson seeping into the lacey fabric, her eyes glazed and skin pale. His chest tightened as an icy horror curled in stomach.

He rushed to her side, yanking off his shirt. When he reached her, he gingerly grasped the wrist of her injured hand. She resisted him.

“Wendy.”

Her gaze rose to his. He gave another light tug, and this time her arm loosened. He swore when he saw the damage. The Crocodile had ripped off the little finger on Wendy’s left hand.

He twisted his shirt around her fist, then pressed against the wound. She flinched but didn’t make a sound.

“Come with me,” he said. “I have something that will help it feel better.”

Wrapping his arm about her waist, he guided her into his cabin. Her body was shaking. Wendy was never this quiet or submissive. He needed to hurry, to bring her out of the shock.

The space was completely turned over. Papers and maps strewn everywhere, clothes torn out of the closet spread across the floor. Even his chaise and mattress had been flipped. One of his crew members must have been searching for the spellbook. Hook pushed down his rising anger to focus on Wendy.

He walked in and kicked aside the papers coating the floor.

“Wait here,” he said, leaving her next to his desk.

Then he went to his bed and fought his way past his bedding and overturned mattress to the loose floorboard in the corner of his cabin. He breathed a sigh to discover it undisturbed. After popping it open, he lifted the tiny brass key from the hidden space. He climbed over to the rear of his closet to find the miniature hole that he had disguised as an unassuming crack. Placing the key, he twisted it, and the compartment opened, revealing a large leather-bound book. The spellbook of Stardust.

Taking it, he walked to his desk, setting it on the untidy papers across the surface. He flipped it open and turned to the healing spell.

Looking over the instructions, he reached out and gripped a few dried chamomile leaves that lay scattered from their jar across his desk and crumpled them. He set them in a small pile before facing Wendy.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Despite her quiet quaking, she managed to nod. He drew back his shirt, revealing her bloodied hand. “Hold still.” He chanted the words of the spell, following the writing on the page with care. One mistake and things could go wrong, very quickly. He grabbed the crumpled chamomile leaves and pressed them against her wound. He saw pain well in her eyes, but she didn’t make any noise.

Eventually, the bleeding stopped, and the skin of her hand began to heal over. The tightness in Hook’s body finally relaxed.

The finger was gone for good. There was nothing to be done about that. But at least the pain and bleeding wouldn’t be a problem. Wendy no longer trembled and her gaze cleared as color returned to her cheeks. She held up her healed hand and examined it.

“I feel it,” she whispered. “Like it”s still there.”

“The first few weeks, after losing my hand, I’d go about trying to do things as I had done until I learned I had to adjust. Even now, every once in a while, I swear a lost finger will ache or fall asleep, or I’ll get an itch in the middle of my non-existent palm.”

She pressed her lips and nodded. Not pitying. Accepting.

“Stay here. I’ll fetch you some water.”

He returned a few moments later, having retrieved a pitcher of water from their stores below deck. He’d already washed his hand and hook of her blood. Wendy observed him as he moved across his scattered belongings. He flipped over the still-intact washing basin before grabbing the small towel nearby and handing it to her.

“Thank you.” She knelt and filled the basin.

He watched as she sank her hands into the wetness. She was risking so much for him.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

She turned, drying off on the towel, an eyebrow raised. “Why did I save your life?”

“You have the knife, you knew where the book was, you could have gone on to stop Pan and rescue your brothers by yourself. Hell, you could have found someone else willing to take on Neverland’s power. You didn’t need me.”

A small smile came to her lips. Standing, she dropped the towel and took a step toward him. “You really don’t enjoy being in debt to a woman, do you?”

“Not true. I’ve been in debt to many a woman.” Though, admittedly, he’d never owed one a life debt.

She stepped closer. Even if by some miracle they defeated Pan and the Crocodile let them go free, Wendy’s finger would remain as lost as his hand. A mixture of emotions roiled through him. Anger, guilt, sorrow.

Reverence.

She drifted even closer. “You think that after everything we’ve been through, I’d let her take you?”

“You could have.”

She stopped right in front of him. Her fine blonde hair was windswept from their flight, her pale cheeks peaked from her encounter with the Crocodile. He recalled how she looked, standing between him and certain torturous death, knives pulled, jaw set, the mist whipping at her dress, eyes blazing with determination. His whole body thrummed to life at the memory. She’d never been more beautiful than in that moment.

Because Wendy Darling was a warrior.

The fingers of her injured hand wrapped around his hook, and she lifted it to her soft red lips. She met his gaze with such a fierceness, a heat erupted inside his skin at the sight of it.

“I refuse to lose anyone else that I love,” she said.

The words were electric, shooting through Hook’s very being. This beautiful, determined woman thought him worthy of her love?

He moved his hook, tracing over her jawline. Her green eyes flickered, darkening like the sea during a storm.

“You love me, Wendy Darling?” He ever so gently dragged the tip down her throat.

She lifted her chin, her neck arching. “Yes.”

Her soft skin, her scent, the unabashed arousal on her face. Her every reaction to him made his need more urgent.

His hook dipped into her dress, between her breasts. He gave a sharp tug on the fabric, pulling her against him. Reaching down, he grasped her thigh, hiking her leg up to his hip. He held her there, feeling her erratic breaths, her heart pounding in her chest, the softness between her legs.

He thrust his hips. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she slid with him on his next thrust, that spot between her legs grinding against him. His good hand reached around to grab her ass, shoving her closer. He felt her through his trousers and he groaned. Bloody hell. She knew the right moves to drive him mad.

“Are you sure you”re a virgin?” he murmured, his voice low and strained.

She released a breathy laugh as she pitched with him, rubbing on his hardness even as he moved against her. “I may have watched my neighbor have a few interludes through my bedroom window.”

“Mm. Naughty Darling.”

Her cheeks and neck were flushed red. Her calf rubbed against his backside. “You’re glad I did.”

“Ever so glad.”

He closed his mouth over hers and dipped his tongue between her lips. He slid his over hers, and a shudder of pleasure moved through her.

This was too much. He needed her clothes off.

He pressed his palm more firmly under her ass and lifted her. Her other leg wound around him and she gripped his neck, her lips moving against his. His tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth, playfully.

Papers, inkwells, and quills scattered as he shoved her onto the desk. Only then did he pull away. She made a small noise of disapproval and he gave her a licentious smile. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve not finished with you yet.”

He shed himself of his trousers and crawled up onto the desk after her. She laid back, her legs spread. “I’m ready.”

Hell, he wanted to take her right now. But no, he wouldn’t allow himself to have her that easily. He’d work for it.

After what she’d done for him, she deserved to come a little undone.

He slid his hook again between her breasts, then ever so slowly pulled down. The fabric ripped under his pressure, each thread snapping. He caught on her bodice. He pressed the tip into the seam and tore through it. His hook scraped along her skin and Wendy’s eyes blazed with passion as he shredded through her clothes. He cut through every part that barred her from him. When he’d split her dress and everything underneath in two, he shoved them aside, revealing her peaked nipples. And that lovely space between her thighs.

He leaned over her, pressing his face into the hollow of her throat and peppering kisses as he descended to her breasts. He lingered there, letting his stubble scrape across her and enjoying her delighted moan. Using his lips and teeth, he teased her supple skin, her taste of lavender and sea breeze coating his tongue. He swiped his thumb over her peaked nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers.

Her fingers twined into his hair, her breaths ragged. His hook glided lightly over her, exploring the soft skin of her inner thighs, pricking against her left side and settling on her hip. All the while his tongue continued to explore the underside of her breasts.

The yearning between his own legs was becoming unbearable.

“Wendy,” he ground out her name, and that was all she needed. She understood.

“Take me, James.”

“It will hurt…”

“I don’t care.”

He adjusted into the right position and then worked his way into her gradually. Her shoulders pressed into the desk. Her teeth gritted. “Don’t stop.”

Her fingers grasped against his neck, and she rolled her hips. “Hard and fast,” she whispered.

“But—”

“Hard and fast.” She gazed at him through her lashes, her jaw set.

She knew what she wanted, and he could no longer hold back. He shoved inside her, heat burning through his body, dropping between his legs. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming into her again.

“Shit Wendy, you’re so tight.”

He reached in between their rolling bodies, his fingers digging into her skin, sinking, searching for that most sensitive place between her legs.

She looked at him, erotic pleasure swirling in her gaze. “What are you—”

A gasp escaped her lips when he found it. A carnal smile slid over his face as he toyed with that spot, digging, rubbing, stimulating.

“Jas, Jas, Jas.” She gasped his name over and over.

Watching her come undone was undoing Hook. That name from her lips, the lust in her voice. The thrust of her hips.

And her goddamned tightness.

He rammed his hook into the desk, his own back arching as he came, spilling into her. “Brimstone and gall, Wendy,” he growled as he pulsed inside her. His hand vibrated that place between her legs, determined to make her cry out.

And she did. Her nails dug into him, leaving red scrapes stinging over his arms, and she let out a wild cry, her mouth open as she gasped and gasped and gasped.

He didn’t stop.

She cried out again and again.

“Jas, I—”

He didn’t stop.

She screamed. Her warm fingers gripped his hand, shoving it aside, as her chest rose in great heaving breaths. “I can’t… I can’t…”

Her tempestuous gaze took him in. Triumph gathered in his chest. Despite everything that had happened, she was completely unwound. He shifted, dropping onto the desk and drawing her against him and held her moaning, raging body as they both came down.

“Did you like that?” he asked, running his hook over her spine, in a movement meant to both caress and possess. “Did I please you?”

She pressed her face into his chest and moaned.

He chuckled darkly. “Turnabout is fair play, Wendy Darling,” he murmured. “I claimed you as thoroughly as you have been claiming me from the moment you returned to Neverland.”