Chapter 1 #2
Shadows dancing on Peter’s face remind me how quick the mornings pass here in Silvermist. With a sigh, I get out of bed. I miss long days in the sun. But Peter keeps his promises—my brothers are thriving, and he is so good to me.
Days are long and cold here. And the days when I don’t see Peter or my brothers can feel lonely. But he reminds me of our bond, and how precious it is, despite how hectic being under the threat of a one-handed pirate is.
A threat I am aware of, but one Peter will never tell me about.
“Don’t worry about that, my pretty boy; just know I will marry you when I have his head on a pedestal next to his hand.” Peter always ends the discussion with that promise of marriage when I ask about it.
I never imagined getting married, but with Peter, it is all I ever want.
So I need to do as I promised and pull my weight, and make Peter and the Faun court breakfast; it is the only meal a day I make.
A handful of Lost Ones make lunch and dinner.
Peter just wanted to let them sleep longer, since some of them are still so young.
“Peter, can I ask you something?”
“Always, my sweet boy. What is it?”
“Why do you call the kids lost ones?” It’s the one thing that bothers me. Seems like a degrading name for all the young kids we take care of together.
“Because they were lost before I found them and gave them a home, my sweet boy. Like how I was lost before I found you: my fated mate.
Peter always knows what to say to soothe my mind, I am a chronic overthinker and he never seems to mind. It’s one of the things I love about him.
Bathed, clean-shaven and dressed in all greens, just how Peter prefers it, I make my way to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. Immediately, the loud, insistent buzzing of angry wasps fills my ears again.
“Tinkerbell” I roll my eyes at the little brownie. For some reason, she is obsessed with Peter. Or well, I could think of some reasons, but he is gay and fated to me. Not to mention the size difference. It would never work between the two of them.
“Tink, please leave me alone. I can’t keep stopping Peter from locking you up,” I scold the obsessed little fairy.
Her hasty departure, followed by the sounds of the door cracking open, tell me Peter is awake.
I’ll always let him sleep in. As soon as he is awake, he will seek out my company again.
Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t; sometimes I wish for some time on my own.
I’d never tell him though. I’d never hurt the one I love.
I hate myself for needing this time to myself.
I should be used to it. I grew up in a small cottage, with two younger brothers, but even in that crowded cottage, I found quiet moments—to read, to cook and bake in peace.
Strong arms encircle my waist, and the sweet scent of the pancake batter is overtaken by the warm scent of pines, and wet earth. “What are we having for breakfast, my sweet boy?”
The roughness of his voice, the way he presses his hard body against mine, has my heart fluttering and my knees buckling.
“Pancakes, eggs, rolls,” I answer, as I keep trying to keep my focus on making the pancake batter. “Hmm I had those yesterday. I think I am craving something savory now, something a little more opulent” His hands play with the softness of my stomach before wandering down.
“My love, we can’t in the kitchen. Anyone can walk in,” I protest. I love how attracted Peter is to me. How it seems like he can never keep his hands to himself.
“And… let them see you’re mine, my sweet boy; let them see me worship my mate.”
The growl in his voice is enough to make me shudder and surrender to him. I’m about to turn around to face him.
“Don’t worry about it my sweet, sweet boy, I’ll make you feel good, so good just like this. I’ll make us both feel good,” Peter grunts, pressing his long erection against my ass.
“Peter, please don’t. I feel uncomfortable,” I protest, not for a lack of wanting him, just not here. I’m not as open and public with my affection as Peter is.
The cold is instant as he steps back and not just from the lack of the warmth of his body pressed against mine. It’s the frost in his muttered, “Fine, I need to look at some trade agreements, anyway. I’ll be back when the food is ready.
“Let me come with you, Peter, I want to help you,” I ask as we are talking two hours later.
“James, you can’t. Look at you, you’re meant to stay here. Make sure the lost ones won’t panic. Make sure I have something to come home for.”
I shiver hearing my first name in that rough high-pitched tone.
Peter hardly uses my first name, proving how serious he is about this.
I wish I can help him finally capture that blasted pirate.
As if killing his parents wasn’t enough.
This freak is determined to kill Peter too and take overrule of Silvermist.
“You’re right, Peter. I know I will be useless, and I will only make you lose your focus. I will never forgive myself if something happens to you,” I admit with a sigh that feels like it comes from my very bones. “That’s my sweet boy. I’ll bring you back his other hand and his head.”
I know he means well, but I shudder at the thought. To an extent, I understand why Peter is proud he cut off one of the pirate captain’s hands—the hand he used to kill Peter’s parents, but displaying it seems to vile, to brutal.
He doesn’t need to know how my stomach churns every time I see it in his office. How sometimes I struggle to combine the gentle caring man I love with the strict prince who keeps severed limbs of his enemies as trophies.