Chapter 21 Glittering Lies
Chapter Twenty-One
Glittering Lies
Peter holds me in his arms as he flies us toward the mermaid lagoon.
I hadn’t wanted to go with him. The mermaids weren’t kind, and I wasn’t in the mood to field assassination attempts.
I only wanted to rest—let my bruised emotions and roughly used body recover.
But he hadn’t really given me a choice. One moment I was sulking in our room, the next he’d scooped me up and taken to the sky, the afternoon sun pouring molten gold across the forest canopy below.
He’s in that boyishly charming mood again—the old Peter Pan.
Mischief wrapped around contrition. This must be an apology outing.
Ruthless in the moment, claiming my body with feral insistence, yet soft, almost careful afterward.
Maybe this is his way of trying to meet my needs in the only language he knows: offering me the rainbow after the storm.
We land at the water’s edge, and once again, Neverland steals my breath.
The lagoon shimmers in the sunlight. Moon-fruit trees arch over crystal waters, their branches heavy with glowing fruit.
Iridescent fish weave between wide-petaled lilies, glinting like jewels.
Gold fireflies drift lazily above the surface.
The mermaids glide through the lagoon, waving and smiling at Peter—always more coquettish with him than they are with anyone else.
Their gazes slide over me with cool disinterest, as though assessing whether the effort of drowning me would be worth the trouble.
Even here, awe coils with unease. Neverland is always both: wonder and danger braided tight.
Peter casts me a sidelong grin, all mischief and charm. “Fancy a swim?”
I whip my head toward him so fast my neck twinges. I wince, rubbing it as I glare. “Are you serious? They’ll drown me.”
He laughs, an easy, boyish sound that rings through the lagoon like a breeze through chimes. His green eyes brighten, unbothered, and my traitorous heart stutters at the sight.
Then he sobers, the shift so subtle I almost miss it. His gaze holds mine—steady, stripped of play. He lifts a hand to my cheek, fingers grazing my skin in a featherlight touch that tightens my throat.
“I would never let anyone—or anything—hurt you.”
He says it with such unshakable conviction that I nod before I’ve even agreed with him. And then, with a flourish, Peter grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid motion.
I forget how to breathe.
His muscles flex and shift as he moves, golden skin kissed by sunlight.
“You cannot be serious,” I manage.
He’s absolutely serious because next go his trousers.
My jaw drops.
Peter glances up at me with a wicked smirk, fingers hooking the waistband of his briefs like he’s daring me to stop him.
“We are not swimming naked with the mermaids,” I hiss, lunging forward to snatch his hands before he can peel off anything else.
He only laughs, standing to his full height again, maddeningly smug. “So you’ll swim with me—as long as we’re not naked?”
I chew my lip, glancing from him to the lagoon. Most of the mermaids have drifted to a sunlit rock a good distance away, lazily braiding their hair or gossiping among themselves. None of them even paying attention to us.
“You swear you won’t let them drown me? Promise?” I murmur, wary but tempted. The water does look rather inviting.
Peter rolls his eyes, steps forward, and captures my hands in his own. His chest brushes mine. The air turns thin between us.
He leans in, his mouth brushing mine as he whispers, “I’m the only one who gets to steal the breath from your lungs, sweetheart.”
His kiss is soft, slow, unbearably sweet—so at odds with the brutal, possessive creature he can be that I gasp into it, chasing the warmth of him even as my knees go weak. By the time I pull back, dizzy and flushed, he’s grinning again.
“Now take off your dress.”
I steady myself, scanning the lagoon again.
This isn’t something I do. Wendy Darling does not strip down to her underwear in front of anyone.
Yet calling this public feels wrong. There are no people here.
Only an enchanted lagoon in Neverland, ringed by moon-fruit trees and glittering fish, watched by fae creatures who don’t care about modesty.
I lift the hem of my dress and pull it over my head in one swift motion. The breeze curls around my bare skin, and I shiver, standing in nothing but a blush-pink bra and panties. Peter’s heated gaze drags over me. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel the urge to cover myself.
No embarrassment. No shame.
Only the thrill of being seen.
He licks his lips, as though already imagining tasting every inch of me. The hunger in his eyes sends a shiver spiraling down my spine, one that makes me feel powerful. Wanted. Beautiful.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, echoing the thought as if he heard it. Then he walks backward into the lagoon’s shallows, water rippling around his thighs. “Water’s perfect.”
I move toward the edge, stopping where the glass-clear water laps at the shore. Beneath the surface, pretty shells and smooth pieces of sea glass glimmer in soft pinks, blues, and greens—scattered like treasure across the sandy lagoon bed. I make a mental note to collect some later.
Hesitantly, I dip one toe in. I glance toward the mermaids, still draped lazily across their distant rock, chatting and combing out their long hair.
When I'm certain they aren't paying us any attention, I wade in slowly. The lagoon rises to my thighs, my feet sinking into soft, silken sand. The water is cool, but not cold. Refreshing. A perfect contrast to the sun’s golden heat.
Peter waits ahead of me, waist-deep, sunlight catching in his copper hair and dancing like fire across the rippling surface. For a moment, it feels peaceful, as though the world’s been scrubbed clean of everything except the two of us.
I take a deep breath and dive beneath the surface. When I resurface in front of him, I push my wet hair back, gasping softly.
He grins down at me, droplets clinging to his lashes. “Look at you. And here I thought I’d have to toss you in.”
I smile, brushing water from my cheek. “I love swimming,” I say, before glancing at the distant rock. “I just don’t love fending off a pack of vicious mermaids.”
Peter scoffs. “It was not a pack last time. Maybe two or three.”
“Four,” I say, lips pursed in a scowl.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright—four vicious mermaids.”
Then, without warning, he splashes me.
I shriek and splash him back, water glittering in bright arcs between us. It escalates quickly—splash for splash, wave for wave—until I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe. I try to flee, stumbling through the waist-deep water, but he’s faster. Always faster.
His arms wrap around my waist, and he lifts me off my feet, spinning me with a boyish laugh before dunking us both beneath the shimmering blue. We surface together, sputtering, breathless with laughter.
“You’re impossible,” I gasp, wiping water from my eyes.
“And you’re slow,” he grins, brushing wet hair from my face. His fingers linger a moment too long, tracing along my cheek. “But adorable when you try to escape.”
“Try?” I raise a brow.
He shrugs with that infuriating grin. “You can never escape me.”
I splash him again for that, but this time he catches my wrist and pulls me into him, our bodies flush. Water beads on his skin, catching in the hollow of his collarbone. His eyes flicker down to my lips.
He doesn’t kiss me, but the promise is there, warm and almost palpable. I feel it in the hush between us, in the way his hand brushes the small of my back underwater, possessive even when he’s gentle.
We drift like that for a moment, the water rocking us softly. Around us, fish flash and flicker in the sun. In the distance, mermaid laughter chimes against the rocks.
Eventually, we swim again, lazily now—Peter floating on his back, arms stretched wide, gazing at the sky like he owns every inch of it. I chase glimmering shards of sea glass and shells, tucking them into my palm, watching him from the corner of my eye.
My Peter Pan. Charming and cruel. Gentle and feral. I never know which version I’ll get. But in this moment, when the Neverland feels light and easy, I don’t care.
As the sun begins to set, the lagoon glows with an otherworldly shimmer.
Bioluminescence flickers beneath the surface, soft blue and purple algae pulsing, trailing behind the fish as they weave between the lily pads.
Fireflies glowing like stars that wandered too close to earth.
The moon-fruit trees cast long shadows over the shoreline, their silver leaves rustling in the warm breeze.
It’s the kind of magic that feels too perfect to touch, the kind of moment that might dissolve if I breathe too loudly.
We wade to shore and settle in a patch of grass, letting the fading sunlight dry our skin before dressing. I pull my knees to my chest and glance at Peter from the corner of my eye.
He’s sprawled beside me, arms folded behind his head, copper lashes resting against his cheeks as he tips his face toward the light. A lazy smile curves his lips.
“I like this playful side of you,” I whisper, almost too softly to be heard.
He cracks one eye open, glancing at me. “Yeah?”
I nod. “It reminds me of when we were kids.”
Of the boy I fell in love with.
He doesn’t answer, but his smile widens, clearly pleased. I try to sit with him in the stillness, to let this brief peace be enough. But I can’t. Not with him soft like this, open in a way he rarely is. Not when my mind keeps circling around the questions I can’t let go of.
“Peter,” I murmur hesitantly. “What are the runes?”
His smile vanishes.
“This morning, when you were—when we… you know…” My voice falters. “They were everywhere. On the walls. The whole treehouse shook. And the runes—” I swallow hard. “They weren’t gold anymore. They were tinged with red. Like the—”
“Stop, Wendy.” His voice is cutting. Final.
But the words keep spilling out of me, trembling and unstoppable.
“And Neverland… it felt angry,” I whisper. “Like something inside it was boiling. Crawling under my skin. I could feel the rage—it wasn’t only yours. It was everywhere.”
His body goes utterly still. The bioluminescent glow from the lagoon casts faint, eerie light across his face, now shadowed and unreadable. The peace is gone, snatched away as though it never existed.
“Peter, I—”
“That’s enough.”
The words snap through the fading light, hard as iron.
My eyes widen. That same frustrated question beats against my ribs—why won’t he tell me? Why won’t he trust me with any part of him that matters? Hurt rises hot and fast in my throat, tangled with anger and confusion. He claims I belong to him, but won’t he belong to me too?
I stand, body shaking, and glance down at my shadow. Everything around us casts a long evening shadow—everything except him. The ground at his side is bare, eerily untouched.
“Peter,” I demand. “Tell me. Where is your shadow?”
His eyes go wide with shock, before narrowing into something far darker. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, jaw ticking. He doesn’t know what lie to give me. What excuse. And I’ve had enough.
“If you won’t tell me the truth, then… then take me home!”
The words tear out of me. I don’t even mean them—not fully. But I know what they’ll do to him.
His pupils blow wide, swallowing the green until nothing human remains.
But before he shuts me out completely, I see it, just for a second, the flash of raw pain.
Then his expression slams shut. The warmth drains from him, leaving something terrifying behind—ancient and inhuman.
He rises slowly to his full height, looming over me.
The air thickens, tightening around me like a noose.
“You want to leave?” he asks, voice glacial. Each word clipped, lethal. “I am your home, Wendy. So where is it you want me to bring you?”
“You’re not my home,” I snap, though the words taste like ash. “You’re my prison cell.”
Tears prick at my eyes even as the accusation leaves my mouth. Maybe both things are true. Maybe he is simply everything—my sanctuary and my hell.
Peter’s jaw clenches. A muscle pulses at his temple, and his hands curl into fists at his sides. The runes shimmer along his skin, faint at first, before blooming, crimson and furious.
The moss beneath our feet trembles, the air tightening around us. The lagoon darkens, bioluminescent light pulsing erratically beneath the surface. Even the moon-fruit trees shudder, their silver leaves rattling in a sudden harsh wind. Neverland feels… angry.
No.
Heartbroken.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
I step back.
“Say you want to leave me. I dare you.”
A flicker of fear ghosts through me, cold as ice. The shadows feel closer now, leaning in, listening. This isn’t just my monster before me now.
“You’re scaring me,” I say.
His eyes soften, just barely, and it’s enough to make the fear twist deeper. Because I can see he’s still in there somewhere, trapped under the rage. Maybe he doesn’t know how to pull himself out of it.
“I don’t want to scare you,” he murmurs, though his fists stay clenched. “I just need you to understand. There’s no leaving me. Not now. Not ever. No matter what I do. No matter what you think you’ve seen.”
I nod because every instinct for self-preservation screams at me to.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Can we go back to the treehouse? I’m… hungry.”
Peter watches me closely. His gaze searches me—hunting for defiance, deception, anything that might ignite him again.
But whatever he finds must soothe something in him, because slowly, the black bleeds out of his eyes.
The endless green returns, deceptively gentle.
The red runes fizzle out along his skin.
He gives a curt nod and reaches for me.
I force myself not to flinch.
He lifts me into his arms and takes to the sky, flying us back in silence. The wind rushes past us, stinging my cheeks. The stars prick the deepening sky, distant and cold. Below, Neverland sprawls in shadowed silence, its forests and rivers cloaked in the illusion of peace.
His arms are warm, but the cold has already settled in me.