15. The Cageling #2
University was not an experience she needed to have in order to feel like her life held value. Nor was a hymen or a husband, for that matter.
“This stubborn side of yours is not going to win people over.”
“I don’t care about winning people over, Mother.” She was learning to trust her instincts. “Why does every choice I make have to impact others?”
“Because it does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“As long as you’re in this family under this roof, it does.” Her mother left in another frustrated huff.
It seemed much easier to free a bird from its cage than cajole it back inside. Her parents were growing tired of her combative attitude. But she couldn’t return to being the miserable, agreeable girl she once was. Not at the expense of her happiness.
Wendy knew she was more than the sum of other people’s opinions and was only interested in discovering her true self now that she’d freed her shadow. In her free time, she cleaned the nursery, throwing away old keepsakes that no longer held meaning and making space for whatever her future might be.
Ultimately, all that remained were her favorite clothes, a few pieces of jewelry, and James’ coat, which she refused to burn. Sometimes, late at night, she’d put the coat on over her nightgown and stare out her window at the moon, wondering if—wherever James was—he could also see the stars.
Her worry never relented when she thought of him. She imagined him healed because the alternative was too horrible to bear.
There would have been no saving his hand—a severe loss that would have frustrated him to no end but not impacted his authority. James’s influence over others came from within. He wore his confidence like armor, and he would not allow such a loss to hinder his hard-earned pride.
But who was taking care of him in private? His conceit was an obstacle that would impede others from seeing to his needs.
She only hoped men like Gideon Starr loved their fierce captain enough to see past the gripes and growls. James would be profoundly hurt after his brother’s wretched betrayal and a beast to deal with for a very long time.
Late one night, when she couldn’t sleep, she wandered the nursery, fluttering anxiously like a wild bird in a cage. The longer she paced from wall to wall, the more restless she became.
James believed it was a choice to be caged, and cages came in many forms.
With nowhere to go, she tried to free the buzzing energy inside her in other ways.
Her fingers trailed over her chest, mimicking the entitled way he’d touched her.
She ached to feel his hands on her again, to go to that place where only James could take her, the place where her inhibitions died, and pleasure was king.
She pressed her fingers between her legs, picturing James looking down at her as he pushed her outside of her comfort zone and into that divine place where only they existed.
She imagined his voice whispering close to her ear as his breath tickled the tiny hairs on her neck. “I can set you free…”
“Yes,” she rasped, closing her eyes to envision his possessive hands on her as she slipped her fingers inside of her heat.
Her breath quickened as she slowly fingered herself, desperately trying to drive herself to the place of freedom and pleasure only he could take her.
“That’s a good little slut…” Her fingers pumped faster. “Let Daddy take care of you…” But the pleasure receded before she got to that place where a woman sang to the stars.
Bunching her fists in defeat, on the verge of tears, she growled in frustration.
She couldn’t breathe here. She was miserable. Alone. Incomplete.
Maybe James was right. Perhaps it was better to struggle than to be forced to live a life as someone you’re not. This nursery, this house, this life… None of it fit anymore.
The damage was done. Living a quiet life would not erase the rumors. Those stories would follow her for the rest of her life, because some people had nothing better to do.
Let them live vicariously through her adventures, she thought, no longer caring about how they judged her. At least she had an adventure to speak of.
And who was to say that adventure had to be her last? If she wanted to get out of this cage, she only needed to flip the latch and leave. Fear was the only thing holding her there.
Rising from the bed, she went to the window and opened the glass. The wind kicked up the tails of her coat like heavy sails. If she closed her eyes, she could vaguely scent the salt air coming from the coast. And if she concentrated hard enough, she could imagine the rocking creak of a ship.
Turning to face the nursery, she looked at the room dispassionately. It was a time capsule that would prevent her from growing up as long as she stayed safely inside.
She went to the sewing kit, where she hid her money and counted her savings. It was enough to get back to the Isles of Kassel, but how far would she have to go to find James? He could be anywhere by now.
Her mind spun like a compass, whirling wildly over all the possible places he could have gone. It wouldn’t take long for her to spend her savings, and then how would she survive?
A devious thought took hold. The old Wendy might be easily defeated, but she was no longer that malleable, obedient girl anymore. Even if it came to stealing, she would do what she must to find James.
Red-Handed Jill was going to see her Black Jack again.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she imagined falling into his arms. He said he didn’t know how to love, but that wasn’t true. Love was acceptance, and James accepted her without condition. He wanted all of her—the light and the shadows—and she wanted all of him.
Mind made up, she zipped her travel bag and changed into jeans. The coat she’d come to love rested comfortably on her shoulders as she looked back at the nursery one last time. There was no hesitation as she shut the door to her past and turned toward her future.
Her parents’ bedroom door was closed, a dim light shining beneath the crack. Wendy would call them in the morning, not to justify her decision but to save them worry.
Tiptoeing down the stairs to not wake Nana, she quietly unlocked the door. This was it. She was finally doing what she wanted and through trying to please everyone else.
Slipping into the cold night, she shut the front door with a soft click and turned the key.
Sometimes, her mind played tricks on her, and as she turned, her blood chilled. In the shadows of the streetlamp, a figure stood, much like James, with natural authority and dispassionate ease.
“He’s not real,” she whispered, but the shadow moved to the gate in a way only James moved.
“Going somewhere?”
She didn’t trust her eyes. Her gaze dropped to his hand. If he were really standing there, his hand would be gone, but the ruffled cuff of his jacket hid it from view.
“It’s gone.”
Her breath hitched. That was his voice. Only he could send chills racing down her spine like that.
“Are you really here?” she whispered, pinching herself to see if she felt the pain and gasped when the sting registered.
“I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see?—”
“No,” she stopped him right there, tossing the bag off her shoulder and onto the pavement as proof. “I was coming to find you.”
“You’re running away?” His gaze flicked from the bag back to her.
“I was running to you.”
“Why?”
A shaky smile skated across her lips, and her confidence wavered. What if he didn’t feel their connection as deeply as she did? “You’re all I think about.”
“In what way?”
She bit her lip. “Every possible way I can. You’re my happy thought.”
He glanced away and cursed under his breath. “Don’t toy with me, darling.”
“I’m not. You’re all I’ve thought about since I left the Never Lands.” Heat crawled up her neck. “At night—when I’m alone—it’s intolerable.”
He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into her yard, and then stilled, looking up at the dark windows.
“They’re asleep.”
He took another step, and her heart whipped wildly behind her ribs. “They say there’s a phantom ache when you lose a limb, but my only pain’s been here.” He pressed his hand to his heart. “It’s an unbearable agony, the emptiness I feel since you left.”
“I have the same pain.”
He closed the distance and gripped her coat. Moonlight glinted off the polished hook where his hand used to be.
“What they did to you…” She caressed the cold metal and searched his gaze. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s done. Of all the things they took from me that day, my hand was the least of it.”
“I would have stayed?—”
He smashed his mouth to hers, and her long-lost sense of balance returned. She climbed up his body, needing to be as close to him as humanly possible. His hands roamed over her with unapologetic entitlement until they finally knotted in her hair.
“I’ve been an insufferable tyrant since you’ve been gone.”
“I’ll never leave again. I want to see the world with you.”
“My ship is at your command.” His fist tightened in her hair, delivering the perfect pinch of possessive pain as he greedily took her mouth in a possessive kiss. “I could fuck you right here.”
“I could let you.” She moaned, grinding her body against his to get closer.
He grabbed her ass in an unmistakable claim. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her throat.
She couldn’t get enough of his kisses. “Why?”
“Because now that I have you back, I’m never letting you go.”
She framed his face and smiled against his lips. “Black Jack has finally found his Red-Handed Jill.”
He growled against her mouth. “By far, the greatest treasure I’ve ever stolen.”
The only thing he’d stolen was her heart. “I love you, James.”
He stilled and searched her eyes. “Is that true?”
“I’d never lie to you.”
He hugged her tight. “Then this truly is your end, Wendy Moira Angela Darling. By dawn, you’ll be irrevocably mine and newly named Mrs. James Hook.”
“I look forward to it.”
And they lived happily—and wickedly—ever after…
THE END