Hook's Pan

by Marie Hall

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15: Epilogue

  Author's Note

  The Witching Hour: Grim Reaper Saga, Book 1

  A Moment: New Adult Contemporary College Romance

  Books by Marie Hall

  Hook’s Pan

  Trishelle Page has known pain in her life, but instead of it making her weak, she's stronger. Confident. That is until the day a fairy kidnaps her during her staring role in Peter Pan's play and tells her not only do fairy tales exist, but that she's the soul mate of the pirate they call Hook, making her question everything she ever thought she knew.

  Captain James Hook is a man at the end of his rope. He's not the villainous bastard tales have made him out to be. So when the curvaceous blonde drops, literally at his feet, he aims to prove it to her. If only to get her into his bed.

  What neither one knows is that fate and magic are conspiring and they can deny the attraction all they want, but their happily ever after is already written. It’s just a matter of getting there.

  Hook’s Pan

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Marie Hall, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this ebook.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Marie Hall.

  Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Marie Hall, Honolulu, Hawaii, United States of America

  Dedication

  To my fans. Seriously, this series has helped me to meet so many new and wonderful readers. I hope you guys know I do this for you. I love hearing from my fans, and in fact, there are some special ones I’d like to dedicate here today. Some time ago I held a name that mermaid contest on my blog and I got SO many great names that I knew I couldn’t just pick one off the list. I used every last suggestion and I want the world to know that these awesome names came not from me, but from you guys. My super fans. In no particular order:

  Nixie~ Charity

  Kai~ Jessica

  Gabriella~ Lauren

  Amane~ Hillary

  Maiven~ Crazy Numbers

  Sirenade/Sircco~ Copper Goddess

  Aolani~ Amelia

  Viz~ Livia

  Julie~ Julie (And while you’re not a mermaid, you’re definitely felt *smile*)

  And last but not least, I’d like to thank Danika. Because without her whispering in my ear and telling me all about her bad boys, this might have never happened.

  Chapter 1

  James twirled the amber fluid in his tumbler, mesmerized by the golden brown glow. His cabin was alive with the rich scent of whiskey and the snapping crackle of wood smoke. Slumped over his mahogany desk, he shifted the crystal from one end to the other, gazing on as the firelight danced across its corrugated surface, casting prisms of rainbow light around a room that dripped with luxury.

  Everything a man could want.

  Red velvet curtains tied back with golden tassels, Turkish rugs from the farthest corners of Neverland. Sage and pine laced incense undulated like a snake’s coil around his face, making him dizzy each time he inhaled.

  The night was long and the ship asleep, listing softly on the waves. But his mind would not rest, not for the last hundred years.

  Not after he’d lost her.

  His beautiful, innocent Talia.

  Another dram of whiskey burned its way down his throat. He shuddered as it settled like hot lead in his gut, easing the ache in his cold, miserable heart.

  He hadn’t deserved her.

  But still she’d chosen him.

  James toyed with the locket on his desk, clasping and unclasping the lock. Clenching it so hard in his fist for a moment he thought he might bend it. With a start, he released the necklace.

  It settled back on his desk with a loud ping in the startling quiet.

  He shook himself like a dog as the memories continued to plague him. Her eyes—ice blue and frozen forever with pain and fear—that boy flitting around her, his tiny dagger still deep in her gut.

  And what a great actor he’d been, because for a moment James could almost believe Peter hadn’t meant to do it. His face had been so still, so shocked, that it’d scrambled James’ brain.

  She’d agreed to marry him—to become his forever and for always, the next day was to be their wedding. They’d been such opposites, he a scurvy pirate, she a docile mermaid. And yet, their souls had connected. He’d given her everything, his oath, his bond, his love…

  “I should have known that boy would ruin it all,” he whispered drunkenly as heat beat forceful through his blood. James downed the rest of the liquid, wishing he could just die from alcohol poisoning like a normal man.

  But not here, not in Neverland where one could consume copious amounts of liquor and meat and never fatten or get a rancid liver.

  Stuck forever in a state of limbo unless skewered like a stuck pig, just like his precious Talia had been.

  His nostrils flared as the horror of that night replayed each and every awful minute in slow and exacting detail. They’d planned to meet at dusk. He hadn’t seen her the whole of the day and anticipation had made him antsy, he’d arrived ten minutes earlier than scheduled. And that’s when he’d seen her—laying in the sand, blue eyes wide open and unseeing, blood marring her lily white midriff and her normally shimmering pink tail now dull and lifeless.

  He’d roared with a sort of animal cry that had startled the birds in the trees, then, unsheathing his sword, he’d dashed to Peter. But the bastard had flown up into the clouds with a whispered “sorry,” disappearing like the coward that he was.

  When James had turned to retrieve her body and return her to the sea, she was gone. Not even a trace of water remained.

  He’d wept and cried out to the heavens, cursing the fairy light riding the winds. Screaming to the gods that he would exact his revenge, which he’d done every day since.

  His days were filled with making Peter’s life a living hell of torment, but it was the nights that turned on James. The long stretch of darkness that preyed on his sanity, splitting open the careful shell he’d constructed, forcing him to relieve the horror of it all.

  Why had Peter done it? Why hadn’t she dived down, escaped him? Or had she not known what Peter had planned all along?

  He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Could only drown himself in drink and wonder what if…

  Chapter 2

 
“No,” Trishelle whispered as she pushed back on her date’s heavy chest. He was smothering her.

  How had she gotten herself into this mess? What the hell had she been thinking letting him into her house? A young, college frat boy? Of course he’d think if she let him in she was wanting sex. But it’d gotten out of hand too quick. Brent was hot in an early twenties, Matthew McConaughey kind of way, and his kisses had been nice at first. They’d helped take the edge off the memories scraping at the back of her skull.

  But this wasn’t what she wanted. She was no longer the nineteen-year-old sorority chick who thought it was hot to have drunk sex on a couch covered in stains of questionable origins in the back of some seedy frat house. She was now a twenty-six year old woman who paid rent, owned a car, and who realized this had been a stupid, idiotic mistake and if she hadn’t been so damned depressed today she would never have found herself in this position.

  Sloppy kisses landed on her brows, the bridge of her nose. This had been such a bad idea. She’d gone to the club tonight to try and forget, try not to remember what she’d found this night ten years ago. Not only did she not forget, somehow she’d wound up bringing a man home.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, too drunk to notice how tense and uninterested she was.

  Pushing his jaw aside, she groaned. “Stop. Please.”

  But he wasn’t hearing her. She was trapped beneath him on the couch while his busy hands roamed her breasts, making her skin crawl. Trying to wiggle out of the way only seemed to spur him on. He ground himself into her and her skin crawled as his hard length pressed into her thigh.

  Then his mouth was clamping onto hers, and his sloppy kiss mixed with his boozy breath made her stomach revolt.

  “Get off of me.” She huffed, louder now. She pounded on his chest as her heart rate inched higher. This needed to stop. Panic tried to worm its way through her brain. Was he just not hearing, or was something worse getting ready to happen?

  It wasn’t like she’d brought home a stranger; she’d known Brent for years—the younger brother of a guy she used to have the hots for in college. Brent had casually flirted with her the last three years, and seeing him tonight, all big and buff, he hadn’t looked like the younger, little twerp high school senior she’d remembered from years ago. He was a man, she was hurting, and she hadn’t wanted to be alone.

  “Brent, please. Stop.” She pushed at his face as he tried to suck on her neck. “I don’t want a hickey, stop!” she lifted her voice.

  Lost in an alcohol-fueled haze, he probably wasn’t even hearing her. Sticky hands were latching onto the curve of her ass, trailing hotly down her thigh.

  “Mmm, baby, you’re making me so fucking horny. You ready for my cock, ‘cause it’s burning for you.”

  Enough. She’d had enough! Thrashing violently, she shoved her knee into his crotch.

  “What the hell!” Rough hands shoved her back, then he was cradling his balls in his hands as sweat poured off the brows of his sun kissed skin. “If you didn’t want this, then why did you invite me into your apartment?” he wheezed.

  “I asked you to stop.” She clutched her chest, only now realizing just how far his busy hands had gone. Somehow he’d managed to unbutton the top four buttons of her navy blouse, she clutched the shirt together, hoping he wouldn’t catch any more glimpses of her hot pink bra than he already had. “I’m sorry I hurt you, but you should have stopped.”

  And for a moment she remembered him as he used to be, a skinny high school kid with a huge crush on her, and her anger turned to shame. Yes, he’d gone too far, but she should never have allowed him in her home. She knew better.

  “Look,” she reached out a hand, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for this to get so—”

  His golden eyes were alive with fury and hate. “Get away from me.” Breath sawing out of his lungs, he sat up and squeezed his eyes shut. “Just, give me a second, and then I’ll bounce.”

  Feeling all sorts of stupid, she shook her head. “Brent, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you really bad?”

  His eyes were cutting as he snarled, “You’re just lucky I don’t call the cops on you, crazy bitch.”

  “What?” She shoved to her feet and pointed at the door. “You took this where it never should have gone. Even if I invited you in, that didn’t mean I was giving you a pass to do whatever you wanted with me.”

  He snarled, upper lip curling with disgust as his hard eyes scanned slowly up and down the length of her body. “Wasn’t even good.”

  “Get out of my house!” she screamed, rage building like toxin in her bones, making her vision red and her head hazy.

  His laugh dripped contempt. “You’re done. Through. Everyone in Phi Alpha’s gonna know. Don’t come slummin’ around no more…”

  Running on pure instinct and adrenaline, she reached under her couch and withdrew her .45.

  “Whoa!” He held up his hands, backpedaling quickly.

  He didn’t know it wasn’t loaded, and she wasn’t going to tell, but she was never going to be weak. Not after what had happened to her sister. No one would ever hurt her like that. Ever. Arms trembling, she jerked her chin toward the door. “I said. Get. Out.”

  Nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight, pants still unzipped and shirt untucked, he turned on his heels and left, slamming the door hard behind him.

  Adrenaline burning up quickly after he’d left, she dropped onto the couch as tears poured down her eyes.

  She’d lost it. Gone completely ape shit crazy.

  She knew she shouldn’t have gone to the club, shouldn’t have gone out. Not tonight, not when her emotions were too close to the surface, making her decisions stupid at best. And he’d lied when he’d said she went slumming at the frat. She hadn’t been back there for years. But when she’d seen Brent dancing in the club, it’d felt normal, easy, and she’d fooled herself into believing that she could actually escape the memories of this night.

  Her poor sister, dead, mouth gaping open like a fish flopping on land. And so much blood. It’d been everywhere, on the couch, the carpet, even the walls. Trisha sniffed, wiping her nose, trying in vain to stop the images from drowning her out. But they came like a torrent and all she could do was sob, lungs heaving for air as it crashed over her again and again.

  It’d been ten years; it should be easier by now. Most days it was, but sometimes the memories snuck up, latched their sticky feelers into her brain and refused to budge. There were some pains even time couldn’t heal completely.

  Letting the tears run unchecked, she dropped the gun, grabbed a beige throw pillow, and screamed into it so loud and so hard she feared her neighbors might hear.

  Everyone thought she was okay. They thought she was perfect, full of smiles and laughter—because she never let anyone see the festering wound that lived inside.

  Even Betty didn’t know how the memories still consumed her. How once a year it crippled her to the point that she could hardly breathe. Jacqueline had been her best friend. And to be the one to find her that way, to have to see the body and know her sister was no longer in it…it’d killed something in her.

  Jacq had called the night before it’d happened, said she had great news to share. But Trisha had been so tired after her long ass shift at the drive-thru restaurant. Barely sixteen, she’d thought more about sleep than sharing in her sister’s joy. Her last words had been, “Can this wait till the morning?”

  Next morning, Jacq had been dead.

  Gut churning, she gagged and ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. Gasping for breath between the retching, she clung to the bowl for dear life as the vision played over and over. Her reactions weren’t normally so visceral, not anymore, but after the confrontation with Brent, it was just too much.

  Minutes later, she could think again, breathe again. Mouth tipped down, she flushed the toilet and stripped off the rest of her clothes then turned the shower on. As hot as it would go. So hot it scalded and burned.

 
; Body shaking, she got inside and huddled under the fiery spray. Staring at nothing as the past haunted her present. Eventually the water cooled and the spray became like ice. Forced to drag herself out, she barely had enough energy to brush her teeth, let alone dry herself, before she made her way to the couch and plopped down onto it. Too exhausted to even attempt putting on clothes, the best she could do was tug on the throw blanket hanging over the armrest; she covered her trembling body and closed her eyes. The tears that hadn’t stopped since starting soaked the cushion beneath her head.

  ~*~

  The phone rang.

  Bleary eyed, Trisha stared at her alarm clock. The night was a giant blank, at some point she must have moved from the couch to the bed. She wasn’t sure when. But the sheets were tangled around her feet and her hair was a rat’s nest.