Chapter 8 #2
“I want to hear every thought that enters your peculiar head, lass. And that’s a fact.”
“Peculiar, eh?” I smile.
“Very.” He kisses my hair again.
I let out a deep breath and begin—telling him what happened after I was dragged away by Peter’s shadow and held prisoner in the cave.
He grows tenser as I go, and when I tell him about Peter trying to take advantage, I think he might levitate off the bed.
But he calms as I tell him about how kind the Guardians were and how they vowed to protect me.
When I come to the end, to the part where I finally found him again, my brain goes nearly quiet. In his arms, that’s where I can finally rest, finally stop looking for meaning in a world that has none.
“I should’ve been there.” He sighs into my hair.
“You were.” I kiss his chest over his heart. “You were with me.”
“Sleep, lass.” His voice has gone lower, emotion coating the words. “I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life.”
I close my eyes and drift off quickly. Over the next several hours I wake here and there. Hook is with me the first few times, his breathing steady as I snuggle against him. The next time, though, he’s gone. I want to get up and look for him, but sleep pulls me under again.
The next time I wake, Hook is standing over the table and setting out two plates as Cookson stumps in, a large platter of food in his hands.
My stomach growls.
“Glad ter hear you have your appetite.” Cookson smiles and places the platter on the table. Steam rises from it in tantalizing curls.
I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Glancing out the door, I find Smee giving me a dirty look. So, the usual.
Cookson gives me a little bow then leaves, closing the door behind him.
“That smells ridiculously good.” I go to stand, and my knees almost buckle.
Hook’s in front of me in half a second, his hands steadying me as his blue eyes meet mine. “Not too fast, lass. Take it easy. How’s your head?”
“I’m all right. I think the food is what I need.” With a silly lunge, I reach for it.
He laughs. “Come on, before you tear the ship apart.” He helps me to a chair and puts my napkin in my lap, then sits across from me and begins serving me.
Cookson has prepared a roasted chicken with vegetables and what looks like a healthy-size scoop of mashed potatoes. I can smell the garlic and almost taste the butter from here.
“Poor Cookson. You know how much he likes to fawn over making my plate for me.” I take my fork.
“Not as much as I do.” He cuts off a piece of juicy chicken and adds it to my plate, then scoops up even more vegetables.
I spear a purple carrot and pop it into my mouth. It melts, its salty and savory taste so good on my tongue that I moan.
Hook pours me a large cup of water and sits across from me.
“You can’t just sit here and watch me eat. That’s creepy.” I push the second plate over to him. “Get to it.”
He shakes his head. “Once you’re done, I’ll—”
“Oh, stop.” I take the plate and start adding vegetables to it.
“Fine, lass.” He pulls it from me and cuts himself a piece of the chicken, then tucks his napkin into his shirt in a way that makes me smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” I reach for the pitcher of water to pour him a glass, but when I lift it, my hand shakes.
He takes it from me quickly. “I’ve got it.”
Suddenly, the food doesn’t have the same appeal. I stare down at it.
“What?” He peers at me.
“Nothing.” I spear a piece of chicken and chew it slowly.
“Hey.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Listen to me.”
I force myself to meet his gaze, even though I inwardly cringe when I remember what I look like now.
“This isn’t forever.” He squeezes my fingers. “You’re going to get strong again. I won’t accept anything less. You’ll get back what’s been lost. Don’t fret.”
“I kind of have to fret.” I sigh. “I can’t even lift a pitcher of water without getting the old lady shakes.”
“Temporary.”
“And my face.” I have to look down, and I wish my hair could fall forward and hide me from him.
“Your face is beautiful, lass.” He takes my chin and lifts it.
“You are beautiful. I don’t care what package you come in as long as it’s you.
” Reaching forward, he rests his palm on my chest over my heart.
“This is strong, stronger than I ever could’ve imagined.
Brave, too. Even though you don’t believe it.
To have come this far, survived this long—you’re so much stronger than you realize. ”
“You getting all sappy on me, pirate?” I sniffle.
“Would you like me to gut someone for you? Just give me a name.” He leans back and stabs a piece of chicken.
I glance at the door, Smee’s name coming to mind.
Hook smirks and chews his chicken. “Eat, lass. We’ll talk about who you want me to skin later.”
“I suppose it can wait.” I fork a few more roasted vegetables. “How much longer until we get to the Fairy Village?”
“Crosswinds are being a bitch, so we’re working against it. Current’s helping us, though.” He shoots a look at the map of Neverland on the wall. “We don’t come this way this time of year, so we’re at a slight disadvantage on the conditions ahead of us.”
“Why not?”
He clears his throat and takes a long drink of water.
I narrow my eyes. “James?”
“It’s James now, is it?” He puts his cup back on the table. “Must be serious.”
“Don’t give me that sexy little smirk.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you come this way? There has to be a reason.”
He clears his throat again. “Well, this time of year is spawning season for all sorts of creatures. And some of them prefer to spawn in this particular patch of water.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. You don’t come through here so you don’t disturb them getting busy. That’s a good thing.”
He stands and stacks our plates. “Right. A good thing. I’ll get these back to Cookson and—”
“What are you not telling me?” I glare up at him.
“The chances of us running into trouble are small, so don’t—”
A sharp whistle cuts through the air.
“Fuck.” He drops the plates on the table, then dashes around it, scoops me up, and puts me back in bed. “Stay here.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
He kisses me in that vicious, perfect way of his. “Stay here, lass. You’ll be safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Nothing to worr—”
“Captain. It’s Anne!” Smee calls.
“Bloody hell!” He straightens and rushes to the door.
“She has all her guns at the ready this time!”
Hook stabs a finger at me. “Stay put!”
I start to protest, but he’s already disappeared through the door while yelling orders about ‘mizzenmasts,’ ‘Long Tom,’ and putting anyone who dares attack the Jolly Roger ‘to the sword’.