8. Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust
Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust
T he silver powder shimmered with an unnatural gleam, floating on the surface of her beverage like a small galaxy of stars. She swirled it into the seawater with her finger and took a sip.
“Ugh.” She grimaced at the bitter, metallic taste. “It’s like licking the edge of a blade.”
“Just get it down.”
She hoped this wasn’t a mistake. Keeping her eyes on Cassian, she guzzled the sour contents, swallow after bitter swallow, and gasped when it was finally empty.
“Gross. How long before it?—”
Her words cut off as the world shifted. Waves thrummed in the distance as shadows formed in the swells.
“Whoa. Everything’s moving.”
Cass caught her arm as she wobbled. “Is it hitting you already?”
Colors melted, bleeding together in hues so bright they vibrated. “The beach is breathing.”
Cassian’s laughter echoed as if a million miles away, but only as loud as a whisper. “Let’s find a place to sit down.”
He led her toward a cabana bed. Various groping couples groaned along the way, and she stared at the way they touched each other. “Are they all doing this? Is that why they’re so free?”
Cassian’s mouth moved as he answered, but she could only hear the vibrating colors and moans of people having sex. She smiled at him as her skin began to hum, every nerve in her body a live wire unraveling like silk from a spool.
“I feel amazing,” she confessed, swaying from his muscular arm.
“Oh, boy. Maybe I should have given you half a dose.”
“No, silly,” she laughed, falling onto an empty cabana bed. “I feel incredible—as if I’m floating on air and made of mist.”
He lounged beside her, resting on his elbow as he stared into her eyes.
The air thickened around her like velvet and honey, and she licked the sweetness off her lips. “Do you taste that?”
“Taste what?”
She stared up at the stars. “My lips.”
“Really?”
He shifted closer, and she looked at him. He was very close. “You gave me a shirt.”
“I did.” He dragged his finger over her hip. “But I like this better.”
“Mmm. Do you?” She reached for his cheek, leaning into his warmth. “Your face is so fuzzy, like a teddy bear.”
He caught her hand. “Careful, darling. Bears don’t like to be teased.”
“I’m not teasing.”
“Are you sure?”
She searched his eyes and nodded. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Of course not. My only goal is to make you feel good.”
She moaned. “I feel pretty good at the moment.” She continued to stroke his cheek. “Everything’s so sensual and alive.”
“I can make it feel even better if you want.”
She closed her eyes and hummed peacefully as the darkness came alive. The air sang, and colors danced. “I hear everything.”
He brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. “What do you hear?”
“The universe is singing to me.” She seemed as weightless as a music note and softer than a whisper. “I know I’m here, but it’s like I’m also there.”
He traced his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. “Where’s that, darling?” He had such a deep, comforting voice.
“It’s like I’m in the stars. I can see everything.”
When she closed her eyes, the Never Lands spread out beneath her like a map. She was soaring without moving. Every heartbeat was a lifetime that only lasted a second, yet she saw everything in the blink of an eye.
“Is this what he meant when he said women could sing to the stars?”
“Not quite.” His breath teased her cheek. “Do you want me to show you how to sing like that?”
She peeked at him through her lashes. “Maybe?” She wasn’t sure if Cassian was any safer than the rest of them, but her curiosity was undeniable. She truly wanted to know what everyone else seemed to know. Taking his large hand, she pulled him closer. “Touch me, Cassian.”
He trailed his fingers slowly along her jaw and down to her collarbone. She sighed and arched into his touch, and her nipples tightened against the silk of her nightgown, shivering when his hand trailed between her breasts.
“Should I stop?”
“Why would you stop? It feels wonderful.”
He cupped her breast possessively. “Even this?”
“Especially that.” There was something about the aggressiveness of his hold that tightened the loose knots inside of her, bringing her to full attention.
“You like it a little rough, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She kept her eyes closed.
“I think you do.” He nuzzled her throat with his lips, the crinkle of his beard abrading her soft skin. “Have you ever been held down and fucked?”
Her breath hitched as his mouth sealed to hers?—
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Cassian’s touch disappeared, jolting Wendy out of the sensual haze. Peter stood at the foot of the cabana bed scowling at his friend.
“Did I say you could touch her?”
“Peter, relax. We were only having fun.”
Wendy blinked in confusion. Was that a knife in Peter’s hand? “You think I brought her here for you.”
“No. But she was upset. I was?—”
“I saw what you were doing.”
Rolling to her stomach, Wendy slithered to the edge of the cushion and stumbled onto the sand, laughing when she landed in a heap.
“What the fuck did you give her? She can barely walk.”
“I can walk!” She held up a finger, needing a moment to find her bearings.
“Peter, I only gave her a little pixie dust?—”
“You fucking drugged her?”
“Not without her consent!” Cassian shouted, holding up his hands defensively. “Peter, I swear?—”
“You’re a dead man.” Peter charged, toppling Cassian to the sand, and others swarmed around them.
Wendy could only laugh. “Don’t be such a prude, Peter.” No one seemed to hear her over all the fighting.
The pixie dust made it impossible to get upset. She turned her gaze to the sea as something caught her eye. A dark shape materialized out of the night like a phantom rising from the black. It sliced through the water with silent, lethal grace, and she wondered if she was hallucinating.
On her feet, she stumbled toward the cliffs. Shadows against shadows, the midnight waves parted as the enormous hull of a ship plunged toward the lagoon like the blade of a sword.
This was not a yacht or an ordinary cruise ship. This was a relic made of warped wood and iron. Black sails rippled silently, undetected by the others who watched the fight.
The air shifted as she wobbled to the cliff’s edge. Something wicked and forbidden radiated from the ship’s bones as if she were the one luring it in. Emboldened, she leaned over the edge where the tide had receded, and rocks protruded from the surf like jagged, black teeth.
Pale moonlight glinted against the ship’s prow, revealing a gilded figurehead—half-woman, half-beast. She glanced back, too far away from the others to call the ship to attention. Could no one else see it? Maybe it wasn’t real.
Wind beat at the tails of her coat, lifting them like sails as she blocked the mist from her eyes and squinted.
The black ship glided closer, lanterns swinging from the rigging, and her pulse quickened.
A tall figure stood at the front, holding a long telescope to his eye, staring directly at her. She swore he was looking into her soul.
“Black Jack,” she whispered, her words swallowed by the raging surf below.
The shadowed figure turned and spoke to the men at his back. Time seemed to snap forward, and everything moved quickly. He called to his crew, but she couldn’t hear him over the crashing waves. How had she wandered so far away from the others? Should she go back and warn them?
Time stretched and spiraled. Rooted to the banks of the cliff, the cold ocean wind cut into her as the thick wool coat flapped wildly at her back. She held out her arms, wondering if she could fly.
“ Pirates!” someone yelled, breaking her haze.
Everyone started to scream as rowboats approached the banks and pistols shot into the air.
Wendy staggered back from the cliff, startled by how close she’d come to falling as danger erupted on the beaches to her back. Someone was supposed to be watching her. But as she looked back at the lagoon, black figures swarmed the banks, and she knew she was on her own.
Were they pirates? They had to be after something. People didn’t simply storm beaches and terrorize civilians for no reason. Or did they? This was the Never Lands. One never knew what to expect here.
She should help. Or at least hide. Hiding was probably best. Pivoting toward the dunes, she slammed into the rock-hard chest of none other than Satan himself.
He snatched her arms in an unbreakable grip and bared a lecherous grin. “Gotcha now, little one.”
Then Wendy could only hear her own screams.