7. All Children, Except One, Grow Up #2
Beautiful women lounged on the larger rocks like jewels on display. They wore tightly fitted dresses, elegantly detailed sarongs, and glittering bikini tops. All of them were in impeccable shape, with figures that could make a supermodel jealous.
Fragrant, tropical flowers grew wildly among the dunes. The salt air rolled off the sea, disrupting the naturally fruit-scented breeze of the Never Lands, hinting at something ominous unfolding.
She searched the horizon but only saw darkness. Soft splashing mingled with low moans along the banks of the lagoon as techno music pulsed from the grotto. Wendy preferred the outskirts of the party, but Cassian pulled her closer.
“I’ll catch up in a minute,” she said, slipping from his grip.
He hesitated only a second before loping off toward the others.
Wendy scanned the lagoon as palms waved overhead. What was she doing there?
A woman laughed, the ethereal sound singing through the breeze like a haunting melody that stole everyone’s attention, including hers. And there was Peter, lying amongst a school of women petting and fawning over him.
Wendy’s lips firmed into a flat line. He was certainly making progress on his goals.
“Oh, Peter, you’re so muscular,” one woman purred, stroking his bare chest where his shirt had been unbuttoned.
Her gaze went to the water where others swam naked, no doubt performing dark deeds beneath the surface. Didn’t the cold bother them?
While the sand still held a bit of warmth from the sun, the wind was cool. She had no plans of going near the water, so she kept a safe distance and stayed hidden in the shadows of the trees.
Despite the serene nature of this place, an ominous shroud hung in the air. The idyllic, dreamlike mood boasted of fantasies, but there was also a lurking sense of danger. Though the lagoon mimicked a careless place of temptation and seduction, an undercurrent of peril waded in the undertow.
The mysterious women reminded her of sirens, the kind that tempted the sailors to their deaths at sea. From the melodic way they spoke to the captivating way they lured the men closer, they enchanted everyone who came near enough to get swept away by the current of lust and desire.
Then she noticed the familiar figure of another woman hiding in the shadows, much like herself. Belle was scowling at Peter as he lounged amongst the sirens while they poured him wine and massaged his body.
Wendy quietly approached Belle, wondering if their exclusion somehow created an alliance. “Is it always like this?”
Belle glanced at her dismissively, her scowl returning to Peter. “Yes.”
Wendy followed her gaze, feeling forgotten by Peter but not as betrayed as his little outcasted friend.
She didn’t know or care to know their history, but she personally lost interest in being more than his acquaintance after seeing how quickly he jumped from female to female. No wonder the woman was angry.
She glanced back at Belle, taking pity on her. “Are you in love with him?”
“Only a fool would love Peter.”
Maybe she was a fool then because she appeared deeply bothered by the sight of him with other women, and she’d tried to drown Wendy for merely showing up tonight.
What was it about Peter that made him so captivating? Women not only loved him, but men also craved his attention. Perhaps it was that his attention never lasted longer than a few minutes, and its rareness made it all the more valuable.
Wendy didn’t love Peter, but she certainly allowed him liberties she’d never allowed anyone else. At the hint of regret, she turned her focus to other things.
“You aren’t friends with those women?”
“Who? The mermaids?” Belle curled her lip. “Fuck those bitches. They’ll sweetly drown you all the while acting like they’re doing you a favor.”
“Like you tried to drown me?”
Belle met her stare. “I wasn’t pretending to be sweet. At least with me, you know where you stand.”
Speechless, Wendy could only blink. They were all bitches.
“You’re all wasting your time anyway.”
Wendy frowned, not liking the idea of being grouped in with those women. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone knows Peter’s future’s promised to someone else.”
“Who?” Her father certainly knew no such thing. Neither did she for that matter.
“He’s betrothed to Lyra Wilde.”
Wendy’s eyes widened. “Peter’s engaged?” Her stare jerked to the cluster of women fondling him. One had her hand in his pants while another kissed him. “That…whore.”
“He’ll never go through with the wedding. Peter sees marriage as a debt. And Peter hates feeling indebted.”
Wait until Father learns this, she thought. That should shatter any lingering illusions about Peter being an upstanding gentleman.
“How does his fiancée feel about him kissing other women?
“She has no control over him. Peter’s his own person. He’s wild like the woods, and he does what he wants.”
“Well, eventually, he’ll grow up. All men have to.”
“Not Peter.”
One of the sirens straddled Peter’s lap. Belle scoffed in disgust and walked away, leaving Wendy, once more, abandoned and alone.
Frustrated by the spectacle he was putting on, Wendy marched over to her self-involved host, disrupting him before a true Roman orgy began. “Peter.”
He didn’t hear her. His face was hidden by a curtain of hair belonging to the woman currently making out with him. She cleared her throat.
The moans stopped, and several sharp, glistening eyes turned on her like vipers in a basket. Their thick, feathered lashes batted indifferently as their full lips pursed over what were most likely mouthfuls of fangs. Their cold hostility didn’t deter her.
“Peter,” she snapped with enough firmness to get his attention.
Up close, the women were more frightening than pretty. The one that had been kissing Peter had long, jet-black nails.
“Who are you?” the clawed one asked, taking her measure with a quick, unimpressed glance.
“I’m Wendy.” She looked at Peter, but he only grinned, folding his arms behind his head as if to say, I warned you.
Her fury from earlier could not compare to what she felt now.
He just laid there like a spread of overpriced caviar that started to smell. She wanted to leave but didn’t know the way back to the house. It was clear Peter would be no help. He was only worried about himself.
“You’re despicable.”
Turning her back on him, she searched the lagoon for the Lost Boys. One of them would surely help her get home.
The beach was now overcome with naked bodies, and in the moonlight, many of the figures looked the same.
She spotted the twins sharing a woman whose moans echoed through the night, then saw Nibbs thrusting wildly into a busty woman spread out along the jetty.
Her stare bolted back to the twins as they pleasured the woman with their mouths, one at her breasts, the other feasting between her thighs.
Her horrified gaze darted back to Peter, and he laughed.
“You’ll have to pardon Wendy,” he told the females surrounding him. “She’s a bit of a prude.”
The women snickered, whispering behind their claws and hissing judgments through their sharp fangs. The magic of this ethereal place entirely faded as she understood she was on her own. Peter was only interested in fucking her, and it was now abundantly clear that they were not friends.
Irritated, she stormed off in a rage but couldn’t escape the sounds of slapping flesh, catlike cries, and masculine moans.
How could Peter bring her here only to forget she existed? He was intentionally being cruel to punish her for not having sex with him, selfishly thinking only of himself. The longer she watched the debauchery unfold from the shadows, the more her bitterness grew.
She was just about to risk getting lost in the jungle when a commotion broke out between Peter and his Mediterranean harem. Wendy perked up, trying to see what was happening.
Peter was on his feet, frantically adjusting his clothes, as he rushed toward a copse of trees on the other side of the grotto.
The women called him back, but he ignored their pleas. What was he rushing off to?
Understanding dawned when Wendy spotted a dusky beauty scowling from the shadows. Ah, was this the fiancée?
Raking his fingers through his mussed hair, Peter approached the woman. He spoke, but they were too far away for Wendy to hear their words. Peter reached for the woman’s hand, but she flung his touch away. Inwardly, Wendy smirked. Served him right.
There were no tells of affection between them, but Peter still tried to reason with her. It seemed strange that anyone would have that sort of hold over him, even if it were weak at best. But this woman showed no desperation for his attention. She appeared only to want his respect.
The outsider held her shoulders back, her body language boasting of confidence as Peter peppered her with excuses. When she heard enough, she slapped his face, the resounding whack loud enough to still the nearby onlookers.
“Filthy cockslut !” his fiancée snapped, and Peter’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides as everyone stared, holding their collective breaths.
The perilous energy vibrated across the lagoon. Peter had a temper, but would he use it on the woman he was promised to marry? He had been the one in the wrong, after all. It was a train wreck, and the lagoon bystanders couldn’t look away, but Wendy had seen enough.
Chancing that she might get lost, she traced her steps back to the dunes and headed toward the forest. She hardly made it to the trees before Peter caught up with her.
“Wendy, wait!”
Oh, now they were friends. “Leave me alone, Peter.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I can, and I am.”
He caught her arm. “You don’t know the way.”
Apparently, his little tussle with The Future Missus had concluded. She glanced over his shoulder, and the dusky beauty was gone.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”
He waved away her words. “Because I’m never getting married. Marriage doesn’t interest me.”
That much was clear. “I want to go home.”