13. The Shadow Never Leaves
The Shadow Never Leaves
T he door slammed behind James as he angrily shoved his legs into his pants. What the hell just happened? Tucking himself away, he froze at the sight of her innocence smeared on his still-swollen flesh.
He needed air and rushed for the surface like a drowning man, unable to catch his breath he rushed past Gideon as he came from the opposite end of the corridor.
“Cap’n—”
“Not now,” he snarled as he stormed up the steps.
The moon hung low on the horizon, painting silver shadows on the deck as dawn softened the sky with a deep purple haze. Standing at the prow, James clenched the cold wood of the railing as he stared out at the endless expanse of black water.
The memory of her confused gaze haunted him. Could she actually trust him? Why? He’d done nothing but torment and threaten her.
He couldn’t think of her tears. Women cried. She’d been innocent. He might have been too rough.
But he knew that wasn’t it. She was upset, yes, but not for the right reasons. She should have hated him the moment he laid a hand on her, but she didn’t. Somehow, she accepted his authority and found the strength to surrender to it.
The only thing she wanted was a sense of connection, which was the one thing he couldn’t give. This was never about her. It was about his brother and taking revenge. It only worked if she hated him.
His hand balled into a fist as he glared at the black ripples and clenched his teeth in frustration. He closed his eyes and pictured her look of panic when he practically ran from her.
She was never meant to surrender this easily. Nor was she meant to crave closeness from him.
It had to be a trap. But if she were merely trying to manipulate him, why did she seem so genuinely betrayed by his enforced boundaries?
Cutting off all tenderness hurt her on a deeper level, not because she couldn’t handle the physical, but because she relied on the emotional. She desperately craved a sense of intimacy he could not fabricate—for her or anyone.
That was why she wanted to use his name and why he could not allow it. But disappointing her in the wake of such stunning submission was somehow worse than causing her physical pain. Her look of bewildered confusion manifested in his own discomfort, and that was never part of the plan.
She called him James, a name no one had used since he was a boy. The man he’d become could not reconcile with the child he’d been. The atrocities he’d done…
His eyes closed as he recalled her questions. She wanted to know why he’d brought her here. And damn him for wanting to tell her. He knew better than to share such vulnerability. He trusted no one.
Damn him for wondering what it might be like to share his deepest secrets with a woman like her.
She was a sheltered, pampered thing who would never understand why he did the things he did.
She knew nothing of hardship or true survival.
She was a privileged little rich girl who had daddy issues for days.
She was a temporary means to an end, not a long-term investment.
He didn’t need that sort of responsibility in his life.
Nor did he trust that she’d actually want such things, but she made it damn hard to believe she couldn’t want those things when she fit him so perfectly, matching his selfishness with untapped desperation of her own.
Perhaps it was better that she enjoyed it. That had never been his expectation, but it would make it easier to live with his actions in the end.
Or was it all an act to steal the upper hand? He honestly couldn’t tell anymore.
She was pure light but also darkness. Those two qualities rarely accompanied each other, but when they did shadows formed, and that was where he thrived.
Damn her for luring him into her sweet innocence, for making him want to comfort her the way he comforted no one. He was a fucking pirate, not a goddamn protector. Who the hell was she to get under his skin?
His eyes opened on a hard exhale as he stared over the waves.
Last night, when he saw her on the cliffs, standing like a goddess draped in a blood-red symbol of his past, his life flashed before his eyes. Recognizing his coat on her shoulders, his heart punched through his chest with territorial need.
That was when he knew it had to be her. If Peter gave her the coat, she must hold some importance to him.
His foolish brother had risked his life coming onto his ship in the dead of night. For weeks, James tried to interpret the meaning behind his thievery. In the end, he decided it was a threat.
Peter did not want his past to disrupt his future. Breaking into his private chambers and stealing something personal sent a clear message that he wanted him to leave the Isles of Kassel. He obviously wanted James as far away from his life as possible.
For twenty years, James had held out hope that they might reconcile, which was what brought him to the Never Lands in the first place. Now, it was clear the brother he knew and loved was gone. The stolen coat severed any remaining illusion of loyalty between them.
Peter took the coat as a warning, which only provoked James to get closer, making it clear that he took orders from no one. He planned to haunt Peter’s present life until he apologized for the past.
When he spotted Wendy standing like an ethereal angel on the cliffs, something dark and sinister came over him, and he vengefully formed a plan to not only reclaim his coat, but to steal the woman wearing it as well.
His selfish brother never showered women with gifts of value. Even his rumored fiancée was without a ring. And that tiny blonde woman they called Belle, she never got more than a night from Peter. But Wendy got the coat, so she obviously meant something to him.
As the ship approached the lagoon, James’ instincts burned with singular, unyielding focus. Peter had stolen from him, and now he would steal something irreplaceable in return.
Like the pelts and skulls surrounding Peter’s home, his brother needed all his little trophies and treasures to remind the world how brave and fearless Peter Pangbourne was.
What a lie. His brother was a coward. He was for Peter and only Peter.
And he would betray anyone to save himself. James had learned that firsthand.
But, like all self-serving narcissists, Peter hated losing, especially in front of others. Stealing Wendy would be a public affront, and his brother’s oversized ego would leave him no choice but to retaliate, which would inevitably lead to James having the face-to-face that he wanted.
Yes. That was the plan. He needed to stay focused on the end goal. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he confronted his brother once and for all. Then, he would have the sweet satisfaction of informing him of all he’d stolen.
James’ mouth curved as he anticipated how rewarding that moment of revenge would be. Some things were far more valuable once lost forever. Now, he had three treasures his brother coveted—his coat, the girl, and her virginity.
It was done.
His conquest was a monumental success. So why didn’t he feel victorious?
“Cap’n, is everything alright?”
He glanced over his shoulder at his rigging officer. “Everything’s fine.”
“The cageling?”
“She’s fine.” She wasn’t, but his crew didn’t need that information.
Perhaps he should order her another bath. She was undoubtedly sore after he rutted into her like a goddamn animal. Why had he been so damn rough? The plan was to punish Peter, but once he had her in his bed, he realized how different Peter’s life truly was.
Women like Wendy did not associate with men like him, but they flocked to duplicitous liars like Peter. Where was the justice in that?
“Sir?”
“Goddamn it, Smee, can’t you see I’m thinking?”
“Yes, Cap’n. Apologies for disturbing you,” he sputtered, backing away.
She claimed Peter meant nothing to her, but it would have only been a matter of time before his slimy brother took her virginity and tossed her away like yesterday’s rubbish. Now, that couldn’t happen.
James shut his eyes, blocking out the regret that tried to seep in. “Wait,” he called to Smee.
“Yes, sir.”
“Go check on her. See if she needs anything—a fresh bath or perhaps some tea.” Women liked tea, didn’t they? “And knock before you enter.”
“Of course, sir.”
Once again, alone with his thoughts, he stalked the length of the deck.
The plan was simple. He intended to defile her and send her back to Peter ruined.
Mission one accomplished. Now, he only needed to wait for his brother to arrive. There was no need for him to do more.
But if he wanted more, the option was there, waiting on his bed. A dangerous temptation if there ever was one.
Nowhere in the plan was he supposed to covet what he never meant to keep. Yet, he wanted her with ruthless entitlement, the way he desired various treasures stolen throughout the years. But keeping her was not the plan and he needed to stick to his strategy.
Capture. Debauch. Confront. Crow.
Getting emotionally attached was never wise.
What was it about her that made her so special anyway? Women never occupied his thoughts longer than a quick fuck.
Perhaps it truly was her innocence. The more he broke down her barriers, the more she looked to him for guidance. So trusting. So pure. No one had looked at him like that in years.
It softened him.
Thank God he regained his senses and left her there. He knew better than to trust a woman.
His mother was a whore.
Sister Nagina was a monster.
He would be a fool to think Wendy might be any different. They were all cold and calculating, and he needed to remember that as much as she needed to remember her place.
She was a means to an end, nothing more. And he was taking his fucking coat back.
He rarely thought about the orphanage, but he forced himself to face those horrific memories now, needing them to ground him in his resolute purpose so he would not waver when he returned to his chambers.