2. The Shadows of Men #3
Shivers chased up her neck, racing down her spine until her bare toes curled against the wood floor. How could her ears feel so much?
His lips trailed over her racing pulse, and her breasts heaved with every nervous breath. His hand dragged upward, cupping her possessively.
“Then there’s suckling.” His thumb slowly treaded over the sharp tip of her nipple.
She should stop him. She knew better than to let him touch her so freely, but she wanted to know everything. She was sick of feeling ignorant. As a woman, she would need to know such things. But when his touch trailed lower, she whimpered.
“Peter…”
He slipped his hand between her legs, only the thin silk of her nightgown separating them.
“Then there’s the sort of French kiss, the kind that makes a woman pray to God.
It starts here.” His hand turned to cup her intimately.
“That’s how stars are born. They’re all just little jewels of light that pierced the sky when a female’s pleasure passed by. ”
She couldn’t imagine anything so poetic created by a man’s touch.
“But I’m not sure you’re ready for all that.” He abruptly withdrew his hand and stepped back, leaving her disoriented.
Once again, she distrusted him. Tightening the lapels of her robe, she frowned with disapproval. “Very funny.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Funny? Hm. I wasn’t trying to be funny.” He lifted his wine and drank with indifference.
Her eyes narrowed. Was she a game to him? Was this some sort of ploy meant to confuse her to the point that she’d consent to anything? “Why are you here, Peter?”
“I was nearby when I got your text.” He pulled out his phone and swiped his thumb over the screen. “Very nice.” He flashed the image to her, and she looked down, regretting ever sending such a photo.
“How did you know I was home?”
“I saw your light on.”
She frowned. “How did you know which window was mine?”
“The trellis isn’t hard to climb. To be honest, your father should be more careful. Anyone could break in and snatch you. Imagine how devastated he’d be, losing his only daughter. What bargaining chip would he have then?”
Bargaining chip? Was that how he saw her? But more importantly…“You looked in my window?”
He smirked. “Last I saw you, you were arguing with your father. He keeps a pretty tight leash on you.”
Her mouth opened to argue, but she silenced the lie. He was right.
“Do you want to escape?”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere. We can have an epic adventure. Have you ever been to the Never Lands?”
The Never Lands were one of many provinces in the Isles of Kassel.
Exclusive to the most elite visitors, summoned by invitation only.
Kassel was said to be a hedonistic playground for the wealthy, but it was also rumored to be extremely dangerous to outsiders.
Money was power, and with extreme power, laws ceased to exist.
“Of course, I’ve never been to such a place.”
The most corrupt villains often took the form of idols.
Rich and famous celebrities and billionaires played a role in public and on screen, but in private, they lived much different lives.
People—of any class—could not be trusted to act honorably when privacy was guaranteed.
However, modern technology exposed some of their dirty little secrets, and little by little, the world was learning how devoid of morals the men and women of Kassel could be.
“Don’t look so scandalized. The media makes it seem far worse than it actually is.”
“You’ve been there?”
A montage of images played through her mind as she thought about all the stories she’d read on the internet about sex parties and women disappearing. Did Peter know about such things? Was he involved in crimes?
“Of course, I’ve been there. How else would I invite you?”
This went far beyond her family’s status.
“More than once?”
“More times than I can count.”
Who was he? The Grimm brothers, two of the wealthiest men on the planet, oversaw the Isles of Kassel the way kings once ruled realms. They were said to decide who had the right to visit their islands.
“Do you know the Grimms?”
He flashed a devious smirk. “Perhaps.”
The sprawling coast of the islands boasted impenetrable wilderness. The Isles of Kassel split into a peninsula of scattered private properties. One could only reach the islands by sea or aircraft, but the territory was tightly protected, and outsiders only caught glimpses by satellite.
Peter stepped forward. “You’re intrigued.”
She met his stare. Who wouldn’t be? “Are you really friends with the Grimms?”
“I know Jay more than Will.” He shrugged. “They like to live an elusive life. I wouldn’t say they have friends, just people of interest.”
The Grimm brothers were two of the most powerful, calculating men alive, rumored to have done some twisted things on their private Isles. But they were so elusive they were never caught or found guilty of any crimes. They were untouchable.
Politicians needed their money. Wealthy men wanted their connections. Fortune-hungry women would sell their souls for their company. And women like herself knew better than to ever involve themselves with such formidable men.
Was Peter one of them? Had she underestimated his wealth and position? The Pangbournes were notably affluent, but she never assumed they might reach the degree of the families associated with the Isles of Kassel.
“What do you say, Wendy? Do you want an adventure?”
“You can’t be serious,” she said, calling his bluff.
“You don’t believe me,” he said with a snide little snicker.
She crossed her arms and dared him to prove her wrong. “I guess I don’t.”
“Lucky for you, I love a challenge.” He caught her hand and tugged her forward, then stopped. “Wait a sec.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m not sure you’re up for such an extreme journey. Kassel’s not for the meek.”
She scowled. “I’m far from meek.”
“I should hope not! I’d hate to get you there and then have you start complaining that you want to go home.”
“I wouldn’t?—”
“I think you would. You seem like a bit of a powder puff.”
She stiffened. “I’ll have you know, my life is a long list of risks and gambles I’ve yet to take! Just because I haven’t been to many places doesn’t mean I won’t eventually see everything there is to see.”
“As a wife?” He looked doubtful.
“I’m not married yet.”
“But you will be soon. Your father’s making sure of it.”
What the hell was her father saying to people? “My father doesn’t control me.”
Laughter burst past his lips. “Then why have you lived such a sheltered life, Ms. Darling?”
She lifted her chin. “Just because the men in my life severely underestimate me does not mean I’m some helpless waif!”
“How do they underestimate you?”
“In every way possible! They think I’m weaker, too sensitive, too fragile. They can’t conceive that I might have dreams outside of marrying a future bureaucrat!”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do! My father doesn’t know the real me.”
“And who might that be?”
At that moment, she realized he’d baited her. He found a nerve and struck the chord hard enough to get a real reaction, which left her feeling vulnerable and exposed more than anything else.
“I…I don’t know.” Peter was not a safe person to confess her doubts to. “I only know I’m meant for more than child-bearing domesticity.”
He grinned as if her admission pleased him, and a sense of intimacy tightened between them, shifting the energy in the air much like it shifts before someone shares an incriminating secret.
“I think there’s something feral in you.” He studied her for a long moment, not in the playful way he had before, but with deeper investment as if just realizing her hidden value. “That must be terrible for you, getting paired off with men based on nothing more than their bank accounts.”
“Security is important.” She sounded like her mother.
“Security is for graveyards. Life is important. Living is how we know we’re still alive.”
“Well, money gives you freedom.”
He glanced out the window. “The maid has a hell of a lot more freedom than you and nowhere near your fortune. Money is an illusion of safety. We’re all one crisis away from bankruptcy—moral or otherwise. You shouldn’t let finance control your future so much.”
He was right. “If I knew another way, I’d take it.”
“There are plenty of ways. You could walk out that door right now?—”
“And do what?”
“Anything you want! You’re an adult. Nothing’s stopping you.”
But something was stopping her. The fear of being cut off, of facing scarcity. The fear of disappointing her parents, shaming them, not living up to their expectations… It all weighed on her to the point that she felt anchored to this time and place, forced to be exactly who they told her to be.
“Do you want to feel alive, Wendy?”
Her breath caught in her chest as he lifted her chin and seemed to look deep within her soul. It was the question of all questions because the seclusion of her current life was killing her. More than anything, she feared becoming dead inside if something didn’t change soon.
This time, she couldn’t lie. “Yes, I want to feel alive.”
He leaned close, teasing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then trailing his nose along her cheekbone as he whispered, “You can forget them all. Just turn off the pressure and responsibility you feel toward them, and there will be no guilt. You’ll be amazed how quickly you forget them. Just say the word, and we’ll fly away.”
Consent danced on her tongue, caged only by her teeth. The desire he mentioned earlier burned in her belly like a glowing ember. Would she ever have such a chance again?
“I don’t know…”
He laced his fingers with hers. “Say yes. Later can wait. They can all wait. Only you can make this time count the way it should.” He stared into her eyes. “Think of how delicious it will be to do something reckless and totally selfish for a change.”
If she left with him, her fate would be in his hands. Could she trust him? What exactly was the cost of her passage from this repressive cage into the Isles of Kassel? She suspected it was far steeper than a kiss.
“Will you take me to the Never Lands?”
Backing her into the bookcase, he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her with far more aggression than he had before. Her hands pressed into his chest, but she soon softened and closed her eyes.
“That’s it,” he whispered, hiking up her robe and nightgown until his warm hand dragged along the back of her thigh, much like the strange man outside had groped Liza. “Prove you’re not the helpless little girl they think you are. You’re Wendy Moira Angela Darling.”
She broke the kiss. “How do you know my full name?”
He reached over her shoulder and tapped her emblazoned name on the plaque. “ Prima Ballerina. Impressive.”
She flushed with embarrassment. Peter was in his mid-twenties, so such awards probably looked juvenile and foolish to him.
“You’re mocking me.”
“Not at all.” He glanced at the line of trophies. “I find these pieces of your past charming. What a perfect little life you’ve led.”
He liked teasing her, but she wasn’t sure they were friends. “Can I trust you?”
“Absolutely not. But nothing worth having comes without risk.” He jerked her into his grip. “What’s it going to be? Singing to the stars by midnight or playing with sewing boxes while sipping tea, waiting for your dull husband to arrive?”
She scowled at such a nasty taunt. “I drank merlot tonight.”
“What a wildling you are!” He looked satirically scandalized.
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, then perhaps you should show me where the rest of the wildlings are so I can be corrupted properly.”
A wicked grin curled his lips. “That’s all you needed to say.”