Chapter 14 #2
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He drops down a step. “Not sick in a smallpox sense, no.”
“More like a plague sense, then?”
One corner of his mouth twitches. “No.”
“Am I ‘fading’?”
“Who told you that?”
“Is that why you’ve been checking up on me so much? I know there’s something wrong, Skylights. You already told me as much the last time you looked in on me.” I sigh. “Besides, I’ve seen myself in the mirror, and it’s not a pretty sight.”
His demeanor switches back to his warm bedside manner. “You’re going to be all right, Moira. Pan took something from you. You’re not ill, but you aren’t healthy, either. It’s why the mermaid bite got so infected and took such a deep hold.”
My nose prickles as unbidden tears begin to fill my vision. “Can you fix it?”
His eyes soften even more. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t. But I think the captain believes there’s a way.”
“Nessie said there’s something at the Fairy Village—wherever that is—that can help me. Do you think so?”
“That’s what the captain believes, too. I’ve always put my faith in James, and I’m not going to change that now.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. “I know it’s important for you to learn how to defend yourself, but I do hope you’ll try to rest a bit more. It might help.”
“Mmhmm.” I don’t think so. “I’ll let you know if I start feeling gross, okay?”
“All right.” He jogs down the stairs, clearly happy to be away from my questions.
I hurry to my room and close the door. Safe.
Sally sits on my windowsill again.
“There you are!” I go to her. “I was worried after you and Tinker Bell took off. Are you okay?” I bend over and peer at her feathers. “You seem all right. Did you kick her ass?”
The gull laughs.
Cecco yelps below, and Bill smacks him on the back of the head. “Stay still, you big baby.”
“Go easy.” He leans forward, his elbows on his thighs. “I’m sensitive.”
I catch sight of Widow and Starkey sneaking into one of the cottages, and Cookson starts singing a bawdy tune about a prostitute with no teeth, if I’m hearing it right.
Alf joins in with a harmony in a shockingly smooth singing voice.
He should’ve majored in music while he was playing at being a college student.
Turning, I stride to my bathroom and strip off my shirt as I go. As soon as I loosen my belt, my oversized pants drop to the floor with a wet thud. Gross.
I flip on the tub water. The hot isn’t super hot, but it’s a lot better than taking a cold shower. I let the water run and again inspect myself in the mirror. I’ve been avoiding this. It scares me, if I’m being honest.
I stare at the new wrinkles and the dark hollows along my cheeks.
My tears try to return when I think about how Peter did this to me.
I was so foolish to believe him, but what else was I going to do?
I force the tears down and pour some of the bath salts Nessie gave me into the tub, which reminds me of the clothes she mentioned.
I go to the closet and gasp at the beautiful things she’s made.
Two pairs of light linen pants with intricate embroidery in aqua and pink at the hems. A white shirt much like what the pirates wear, and a light green shirt with navy thread along the collar and at the cuffs.
But by far the most beautiful piece is the dress.
A deep blue, one that looks to be the exact same shade of Hook’s eyes, the dress has hand embroidered golden moons and flowers at the neckline.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Nessie.” I hold it up to me, careful not to let it touch my sweaty body, then spin around. It’s going to flow out perfectly, the skirt long but billowy and slitted on either side. “Wow.” I carefully hang it up again, then return to the bath.
When I slide into the warm water, I sigh.
I’m tired. The kind of tired that I never felt until I came to Neverland, until Peter took something from me.
Or maybe Nessie’s right and I just gave it away freely.
But I refuse to blame myself. That’s what Peter would want me to do.
The gaslighting asshole. Why did Wendy make him seem so wonderful when he’s really a lying, manipulative monster?
He’s not the only monster, though. There’s Hook.
Hook, the man who admitted doing all manner of heinous things. Hell, he even said he’s the reason the island’s magic is dying, that it was his greed—as Peter said—that caused it.
I’m beginning to think I’ve been asking the wrong questions. What I need to know is what exactly started Neverland down this dark path. What did Hook do? Or what did Peter do? And if I ask either of them, will I get a straight answer?
“Ugh.” I bend me knees and slide beneath the surface of the water. It’s quieter here, the water a perfect buffer. My thoughts don’t get any clearer, though.
Unbidden, Hook’s filthy threat replays in my mind: “Let this be a warning to you, lass. If you look at me like that again, I’ll have your knees pinned to your ears and my cock so deep in your sweet cunt that you’ll feel me for days.”
“Oh my god.” I sit up, the water sluicing off my wet hair as an ache starts to thrum deep inside me.
Pressing my thighs together, I swipe the water from my face. “Nope, not happening.” But my chiding does nothing to stop me from hearing his words again and again, always in that deep voice that strokes along my secret places.
“This is a bad idea.” I ease my hand down my body, then rest it at the top of my thighs. “I shouldn’t.” I lean my head back and close my eyes.
My thighs part, and I slide my fingers right where I need them. I see Hook, his eyes so intense as he watches me. I imagine him here with me, watching me touch myself. The way he kissed me, the taste of him, the thick length in his pants. What would that feel like inside me?
I bite back a moan and stroke myself faster, my body tightening like a spring under pressure. He’s there in my mind, a sly smirk on his face as he leans over me, his eyes between my legs as I play my clit to his tune.
Then I see him on top of me, his cock pressed against me, touching me where no man ever has. When I imagine him entering me, my thighs shake. It’s too much, too damn much. I come hard, my body shattering into a million sparks beneath the water.
His name slips from me, and I bite my lip to keep quiet, to somehow contain the fevered pleasure that splits me apart and holds me together. I pulse and ache and soar, the sensation so much stronger than I remember. And the whole time, I see him, James Hook. My nightmare and my fantasy.
When I’m left with nothing but aftershocks, I go limp and finally manage to catch my breath. My body still hums, though my need is sated, for the moment. The ache remains, though. It’s undeniable, a longing that I’m afraid can only be answered by him.
I jump when my bathroom door bursts open and I see Hook standing there, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair wet and dripping.
“What the hell?” I scream and try to cover myself.
“You called me. Are you okay?” He scans the bathroom, then turns to look back into the bedroom. The damp towel clings to his ass. When he turns again, it clings to all of him.
“Lass, are you all right?” He growls and stands over me.
“I’m fine. Get out!” I point to the door, then slap my hand back into the water to cover myself.
He looks down, taking me in. “Why’d you call me then?”
“I didn’t call you!”
“Lass, I know when I hear the name me mum gave me. You said ‘James’, and you said it …” He lets his eyes roam me again. “Desperately.” His gaze darkens when he meets my eyes again. “Did you not?” His tongue wets his bottom lip.
I want to sink under the water and wait him out until either he goes away, or I drown, because I can tell he knows. He flippin’ knows what I was doing.
“I’m fine. Please go.”
“You’re close, lass.” He leans closer, the outline of his hard cock at eye level.
“Close to what?” I swallow hard.
“To giving me that same look. The one I warned you about.” He stares down at me, clearly not giving two shits that I’m naked and told him to leave.
But do I want him to leave? The pulse between my thighs says no. I have to force myself to look away from him. I can’t do this. Hell, I’ve never done this. That’s a bucket of cold water—the thought that I’d be a bumbling fool at the whole sex thing.
“I see you’ve had a change of heart.” He steps back.
“But I haven’t. If you need me, you call me.
You say my name like that, lass, and I’ll come running and give you just what you need.
I’ll lick your pleasure out of you, then fuck you so filthy and perfect, you’ll never be able to look at me the same way again.
” The smirk on his lips, the way he seduces me with his words—god, I’m going to combust. “You’ll look at me as I am and still want every bit of me. The same way I look at you.”
A tremble rocks through me as he stalks from the room, his back tense, everything about him on edge.
When I hear the doors to his room slam, I let out a long, shaky breath, then hear the water switch on across the wall.
Shit, that must’ve been how he heard me. He was in the shower right next door. I must’ve missed it when I was … busy.
I move to get out of the tub, but then I hear a groan. My heart, already rampaging through my chest like a bull in the streets, kicks up a notch, and I lean closer to the wall.
Another groan, low and masculine and so damn sexy.
My nipples go hard, my body coiling again as I listen with bated breath.
He’s … doing the same. He’s doing it where he knows I can hear every single word that falls from his lips.
I’m on fire, I’m lit up like a sparkler, fizzing and popping and burning into oblivion.
Then I hear a deep grunt, one that sizzles through my veins, and after that, Hook’s voice rasping and taut. “Moira. Ah fuck, Moira. That’s my good lass. Take it all.”