Chasing Pan: Tales from Neverland (Dark Fairy Tales Book 3)

by S Cinders

  Ebony sighed and tilted her head to give me better access. “I will keep you! You will be mine forever.”

  My heart thudded, “Deal.” I smiled against her skin, and she sighed again. This time the sigh sounded more sleepily than before.

  “Sure, the moment my back is turned you have a drunken brawl.”

  I turned to see Puck and Tinkerbell striding toward us. I couldn’t help the broad smile as I noticed clutched in Tink’s hands was an old rolled up parchment.

  “We needed to save the wine for ourselves,” I said jovially, “I assume you were successful?”

  Puck scoffed, “Please, it was child’s play.”

  I would have believed him if it weren’t for the knife wound on his arm.

  “Looks you had a little trouble,” Ebony sat up, sounding less drunk. “Are the both of you, all right?”

  Tinkerbell nodded and then snatched the wine bottle from Ebony’s hands and took a long pull of the deep burgundy liquid. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then offered the bottle to Puck who shook his head.

  “It isn’t more than a scratch,” Puck answered, and indeed it didn’t look deep.

  “Was it Hook who did that?” Ebony asked, as she tried to focus her eyes on the bloody gash.

  “No,” Tinkerbell answered, “it was me.”

  All of us swung wide-eyed gazes at the little fairy.

  But it was Puck who spoke, “It wasn’t your fault that idiot lunged at you.”

  Tink blushed, “We were in our tiny forms zipping around the ship. If you fly fast, enough most will mistake you for a dragonfly. But someone opened a door right as we were in range and I fell to the ground.”

  Ebony frowned, “Now that you mention it, I can see a faint bruise on your jaw.”

  Tink nodded, “I ran right into it and would have been stepped on if it wasn’t for Puck. He changed us both to life-sized in a second. At that moment, the pirate lunged with a dagger and barely missed my face. I kicked the pirate in the nuts and as he fell the blade flew out of his hand and sliced Puck on the way to the floor.”

  Puck glanced at his forearm, “It is merely bloody, not a big deal.”

  Tinkerbell’s lips tightened, “I will be sewing it up as soon as it’s cleaned.”

  Then grabbing his arm, she poured some of the wine over it. Puck winced, and I could see his mouth muttering something that suspiciously looked like mother fucker. But he didn’t cry out. He was one tough son of a bitch.

  From there, Tinkerbell grabbed the first aid kit and sewed up the small cut. Had we been only men in the crew I doubted that anyone would have bothered with it. I was honestly surprised that Puck was letting her fuss over him.

  The patience he exhibited was so far from the old Puck we had once known, that I felt proud of him and how far he had come.

  Tinkerbell had handed the map to Alex when she began her ministrations. Tiger Lilly and Alex were studying the blank page. But since smoke, water, blood, and fire magic hadn’t made the parchment give up its contents I didn’t think that staring at it would do anything either.

  I still felt strongly that Ebony was the key to it somehow. Reaching out my hand, Alex passed it over to us. I felt a surge of disappointment when Ebony touched it, and nothing happened. I had been so sure.

  She looked at it front and back and shrugged, “Just a blank sheet, I don’t know what he could have been thinking.”

  Alex reached back over to take the map and the second he touched it while Ebony was still holding the other end scrolls of ink began to appear on the aged parchment.

  “Holy Crap on a cracker!” Ebony exclaimed and dropped her side in surprise. Everything vanished, and it went back to being blank.

  “Grab that map Ebony!” I wasn’t sure which one of us shouted it, and when she picked up her corner, with Alex still holding his, the map began to appear again.

  We watched in tense silence as the familiar features of Neverland seemed to appear as if an invisible artist were standing before us.

  There was the Indian Camp where we had left Tiger Lilly’s father and her tribe. Hangman’s Tree filled in with long twining branches, looking eerily similar to how it had when Eb and I visited Charlie.

  Cannibal Cove was at the south end of the map. This was where Hook usually kept the Jolly Roger back in his glory days. Mermaid Lagoon where the map had been stored all these years under the murky blue waves.

  And finally, Skull Rock appeared on the furthest northeastern point. There were jagged rocks there that made for dangerous sailing. There was a reason that it was abandoned. Most that ventured there never came back.

  I supposed that I should have known what the map would show. One doesn’t hide the most important treasure in the easiest place to find. So, when the bloody red X appeared at the base of Skull Rock I swallowed hard before speaking.

  “We can’t take the boat,” Ebony spoke up before I did.

  “You can’t dive there,” Alex ground his teeth, “That the only place on the island that has sharks. How in the hell are we supposed to get there? And if we make it, how do we survive?”

  Puck shrugged, “We fly.”

  CHAPTER 44 – Ebony

  BLURRY IMAGES FLASHED through my mind as I remembered the previous evening. I wasn’t sure how much alcohol we ended up consuming, but every ounce of it was threatening to make a repeat performance this morning.

  Peter didn’t open his eyes as he muttered, “If you plan on going another round, you will either need to take this one by yourself or give me a few minutes.”

  My cheek heated, “I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.”

  I frowned because my mouth felt like I’d slept with gym socks stuffed in it.

  A low laugh came from the sleeping form beside me. “You are joking, right? I mean, you were insatiable. There was once against the door, another time on the chair and then twice in our berth.”

  “I fell off the chair. Good Lord!” I exclaimed, as I a slow flush covered my cheeks.

  More and more of the previous evening flitted across my mind. I had yanked his pants down exposing that beautiful ass before we had made it inside of the room. The second the door was closed I was cupping his balls and sinking to my knees.

  I hadn’t sucked his cock for more than a minute before I found myself shoved against the door and my clothes being stripped off. He was in me in seconds. The slight burn from the sudden invasion had made it even more amazing. My head had fallen back and cracked against the wood door, and he slammed into me repeatedly.

  I wish I could say that I gave him time to rest, but right after we had reached completion, I had felt the need to have him close again. I wanted to be joined with him always. It made perfect sense when you are whiskey soused and singing like a banshee.

  I remembered singing a bawdy tune about a barmaid that fucked all the men in the town and came back for the women in the second round. Good grief, there was a reason I didn’t drink to excess.

  When Peter had said that if I sang one more song he would take me over his knee, I started singing in my loudest voice. I told him that a spanking was just what this naughty pirate needed.

  “How much do you remember of last night?” I asked tentatively.

  Both eyes opened with that, and he smiled that sex on a stick smile that had my heart melting.

  And then in a deep baritone, he began to sing, “There once was a gal named Sal, who strangely adored her wooden dowel. With lust and with need she rode her trusty steed and never cared how loud she did howl.”

  I giggled, “That was a good one.”

  He smiled back at me, “Thank you, but I can’t take credit for it. I think you and Alex co-wrote it during your rum phase.”

  I winced, “We had rum?”

  He nodded, “When the wine ran out.”

  “Did I beg you for a spanking?” I asked hesitantly. My ass felt sore, and I wanted to know how bad I had acted.

  He nodded again, “You were sc
reaming about how naughty you were and how you needed to be punished. Puck pounded on the door and said that if I didn’t tan your hide, he bloody well would.”

  Crap on a cracker.

  This big man had taken me over his knee while he sat in the lone chair of our cabin. One solid smack after the other rained down, peppering my ass cheeks with stinging bites. It had been brilliantly arousing, and I had begged him to take me, fuck me, and spank me again.

  “Remind me never to drink again,” I muttered, as Peter grinned at my discomfort.

  “Don’t worry too much, my love. Everyone else was just as intoxicated as you were. There wasn’t anyone who could say they were well behaved.”

  I grumbled something and got out of bed to sneak off to The Head to pee. My body rebelled the moment I was upright, and I fought to keep my stomach from flipping inside out. My head pounded and even my toenails hurt.

  I hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on with me, but I knew I needed some privacy.

  Once I had used the bathroom, I came back feeling better with my teeth brushed, and my tangled hair pulled up into a messy bun. Peter was right where I had left him on the bed.

  “You are getting old,” I teased.

  Peter’s eyes had been on me the moment I had opened the door. He had a way of making me feel that I was the only woman alive that mattered. I am not going to lie and say it didn’t feel incredible.

  His eyes glinted, “Do you want me to rub your sore ass?”

  Let’s get one thing straight, Peter could touch any part of me at any time and it would always be a good idea.

  I dropped the robe that I had wrapped around me to go to The Head. Then I climbed back in bed and turned my back to him. He pulled me close until my back was flush with his broad chest. Then he lifted my leg and moved it back a bit so that I was opened to him.

  His fingers began to softly stroke my folds. My eyes rolled back, and I bit my lip, and a low moan erupted from my lips.

  He slipped a finger inside of me and pumped it in and out having a second finger join the first. I panted with increased need as he scissored his fingers, grinding and rubbing my slit so well that I was on the cusp of coming.

  “Peter,” I panted his name, wanting him inside of me, around me, claiming me.

  I felt the blunt head of his dick against my ass. He moved his hips back and forth so that his cock could brush gently against my pink skin. It felt beyond amazing, and I couldn’t keep quiet. I moaned again as he fingered me to the rhythm of his thrusts.

  When I was sure I couldn’t take another moment, he slipped inside of me. Laying on our sides gave him the ability to go deep and stay there. Time and again he moved his hips back and forth the wetness squelching between my thighs.

  “Please, I begged,” and Peter made sure to answer my cry.

  He pumped his hips a little faster, making sure to read my body signals whether they say go fast or get the hell away from me. He knew just what to do.

  I found myself hovering on the abyss once again. But Peter didn’t want me to climb to the top and not see the view. It was seconds before he had his hand between my thighs and was rubbing. The fire in my belly increased a hundred-fold.

  I shattered, I flew over the cliff and dragged Peter along with me. I wondered if he had lost his ability to talk because for a while he just lay there panting.

  “Good?” I asked cheekily.

  “Bloody fantastic," Peter sputtered, “Damn woman, you never cease to surprise me.”

  I couldn’t help the happiness that radiated off my face. I wasn’t sure what the day would hold and if the map would even work. But I trusted this man, and I loved him.

  Things would work out, they had to.

  CHAPTER 45 – Peter

  FLYING HAD BEEN THE one thing that I missed the most about my lost past with the fae. Puck had said that since I was technically reinstated, I should have my magic back, but I couldn’t find it within me.

  I still had the dull ache, like a phantom limb that was missing. Over the many years, it had dulled, and I almost didn’t notice it most of the time. But I was acutely aware of it in times like these.

  Puck and Tink had sprinkled us all with pixie dust so that we could not only shrink in size but that we could fly to Skull Island. The comradery from the previous evening was still present. But it was a solemn affair as they took flight towards the deadly piece of rock.

  Skull Island wasn’t large, perhaps only a mile in width and two in depth. The old rocks vaguely resemble a man’s skull hence the time. When I was a child running amuck as Peter Pan, we would sometimes play there.

  That brought back memories that I wanted to forget. The last time we had been at Skull Island had ended in tragedy. I remember Stevie’s little face, so dirty one could hardly tell the color of his skin, but those black obsidian eyes were expressive enough to sear themselves into my soul.

  He had run off trying to prove that he was man enough to his fellow Lost Boys brothers. Some had teased him because he was a little smaller than most. His ribs stuck out of his ribcage no matter how much he ate.

  I found myself remembering the funny things he would do. Like, insist on sleeping with the dogs even though he often smelled of piss and dirt. The way he would sneak into the Indian Camp and return with feathers and dried meat.

  Stevie was fast, fierce, and stupid. He thought that he was invincible, but hadn’t we all?

  I wasn’t sure if it was Cubby or Tootles that had kicked him out of the hut that night. He had rolled in dog dung, and it stunk to high heaven. Stevie wasn’t about to take a bath; Lost Boys didn’t bathe.

  So, the guys and booted him out to sleep under the stars. It wasn’t like any one of us hadn’t had that punishment before. Everyone, except me, that is. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt over what had happened that night.

  Somehow Stevie had gotten a raft and sailed for the deathly Skull Island. Determined to show all of us that he was more of a man than we could ever be.

  It was the mermaids who brought him home to us. You can’t know what someone looks like who has drowned unless you’ve seen it. Nothing prepares you for the bluish tint of their skin from the lack of oxygen to the blood. Their body swells to the point where it is difficult to recognize the individual. Even their tongue swell, looking grotesquely large as it protrudes from the victim’s body.

  I swallowed hard not wanting to picture that sad scene any longer. I think a part of my childhood died that day. It wasn’t long after that I left Neverland looking for something to distract my thoughts, and I ended up all the way on earth.

  I still had enough magic to fly back then. But as I continued to age, the magic left me. I figured that the fairy had finally deemed me unworthy of it. But now I wondered if I had personally abandoned it.

  Was it my sadness and grief that had pushed it away?

  The thoughts continued to plague me as we flew across the water. In the morning light, the sun danced across the surface. It looked as if shimmering jewels glinted with the promise of treasure to come.

  I couldn’t give a fuck about the treasure, but suddenly saving Neverland had been imperative. I had to have more time with Ebony. I needed to secure the homes of my friends. I owed it to them for leaving all those years ago, especially for abandoning Tinkerbell.

  She was a handful, and I am sad to admit, that I was thankful she was no longer my problem at the time. But I had been too young to realize that friends didn’t do that to each other.

  The island came into view, and we raced just above the water as we made our approach. I was determined that there wouldn’t be another tragedy at this forsaken place.

  We flew into one of the openings that resembled an eye. It was dark and smelled of mildew. You could feel the lack of current in the air as it weighed on our bodies even in this tiny form.

  “Spread out,” I commanded, “Look for a bright blue stone. It won’t be large, perhaps the size of a man’s clenched fist. But the color will be brilliant, an
d it will seem alive under the surface.”

  Everyone nodded and flew apart as we searched. The cavern felt as if life hadn’t touched it in a hundred years or more. It wasn’t hollow as one might have thought. But it contained hundreds of passageways that often intersected and at times came to a dead end.

  The distance between the water and the roof of the tunnel was only a few feet. Not wide enough for a grown man to stand, but a space that one could swim.

  The tunnels weren’t smooth either. The sides often had sharp spears that jutted out from the walls. Whoever had carved these, didn’t want anyone to follow in their footsteps.

  As far as a place for buried treasure, I had to admit that there was not a finer spot on Neverland. I just hoped that we lived through it to tell someone about it.

  As we entered the heart of the island, we heard an eerie sound, almost like a woman weeping. Ebony looked at me in alarm.

  I took her hand, knowing that asking her to stay behind was futile. As we dipped and turned through the maze of tunnels, a bright light appeared in the distance. Increasing our speed, we raced to see if perhaps we had discovered the Never Stone after all.

  We had two more corners to turn when the tunnel broke open into a large cavern. It was beautiful in a stark sort of way. But that wasn’t what had the hair on my arms and neck standing at attention.

  In the center of the cavern locked in a cage was a woman. Her hair was white as snow, ratted and dirty, and it clumped around her naked shoulders and chest. Her eyes were the bluest color I had ever seen, much like labradorite. They glowed in her thin, pale face.

  I knew the moment she looked at us who she was. By the harsh intake of Ebony’s breath, she had realized something similar.

  We flew closer, and the woman kept her eyes on us the entire time. Her mouth still singing that achingly haunting sad song.

  The features of this woman were so familiar to me. I almost had a hard time looking at her. Who would have done such a horrible thing?

  We easily flew through the bars of the cage. Inside, we could see that she had a massive chain attached to her ankle. The moment our feet touched ground she spoke.