Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy

by Heather C. Myers

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  Prologue

  Peter Pan was alive once, but it had been so long ago he didn't remember. In fact, he didn't remember much of who he was when he was a Breather. Alive. Except the fact that he had been quite young when he died. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen; caught in that awkward stage between being a boy and being a man. Now, he was in that awkward stage for the rest of forever, and he hated it. How was he supposed to be taken seriously as a member of the Magistrate’s Guard when he had a boyish face and a cracked voice? His physical appearance did not reflect who he was on the inside, and it was more than a little frustrating that he had to prove himself over and over again.

  At least The Magistrate knew who he really was. She knew he was skilled with a sword and a cutlass. She knew he could slice a man's throat before he even realized Peter was there. She knew he could -

  Well, she was the only person who knew he could do that. And even though it would certainly help Peter in his quest for power if he revealed his secret talent, he refused to do so. For now. It was his ace in his sleeve, and if he showed his cards too early, everything would backfire and he would lose all the traction he gained during his time with James Hook, ruler of The Other World. The Breathers referred to it as Hades or Hell, but in The Neverland, it was simply Other - a place with no name for souls with nowhere else to go. These were the souls that needed guidance, that needed to pay some sort of penance before they could enter The Paradise. Some worked hard to transition, others were perfectly content to remain under the rule of Hook for the rest of their days.

  These were the souls he needed to recruit to serve his own nefarious purpose.

  These souls were lost, and they needed a place of permanence they could call home, and a leader they could give their loyalty to.

  Peter hoped to be that leader.

  Collecting souls was important to him. Ruling over them, even more so. This was what he had been training for, back when he was to become a respected member of society. It didn't matter that he had been abandoned as a baby at some impoverished orphanage where the nuns were warm but the building was not, where the children were either unaware of the concept of personal space and isolated themselves to the point of loneliness, where it was a rarity to see families in need of a baby boy even look his way. To this day, he still didn't know why he hadn't been adopted. He was an attractive baby - copper red hair, brown eyes, a healthy disposition. He was even a happy child, from what the nuns said, despite the tragedy of abandonment that tainted his early life.

  However, his demeanor shifted the longer he stayed at the St. Catharine Orphanage. It grew less hopeful, more bleak, like a typical London day. His brown eyes grew dark and empty, and he resigned himself to isolation. Up until the Royal Navy made its yearly recruitment visit. He was twelve at the time, but he lied and said he was older. It helped that he was tall and lanky - no one questioned him. When he died while in their service, it was thought that he was nineteen. Really, though, he had been fourteen - and that was the age he would remain forever.

  Peter shifted his brown eyes back and forth, looking at his current and temporary home. Just because his soul belonged to James Hook now did not mean it would belong to him forever. As ruler over The Other World, Hook had the power to release a soul from servitude if the soul was redeemed in some way. He could not permit them residence in The Paradise, but he could allow a soul to stay as a guest in The Other World or release them back to The Neverland. If a soul wished to gain access to The Paradise, Hook could speak to The Creator on the soul's behalf. He had a lot of power, power Peter wanted to acquire for himself. Rumors had recently started swirling about uniting the three realms under one ruler - The Paradise, The Other World, and The Neverland - all following one law. Consistency would be expected; naivety would be punished. As ruler, he would be able to make the laws and create the punishment. If anyone questioned him, he could sentence them to death for treason.

  But first, he had to get support. He needed an army of loyal men who would die for a cause they believed in. If all went well, Peter hoped they would die for him.

  That would take meticulous planning on his part, and meticulous planning took time. He needed to somehow get Hook to release him from The Other World, and in order to do that, Peter needed either charm or a bargaining chip. Charm was not something Peter was good at or could fake, and it was highly unlikely Hook would release Peter of his own volition. Peter did not think Hook liked him all that much, which was quite fine with Peter because Peter did not like anybody. This meant that Peter had to persuade Hook to free him, and by persuade, Peter needed something to force Hook's hand.

  Or someone.

  Hook wanted Remy Cutler for his own nefarious purposes. What those purposes were was something Peter needed to figure out. He was certain it had to do with the effect she had on the souls in Neverland, how they dropped everything to follow her. Like they had no choice in the matter. Like the only thing that was important was getting to her. Perhaps he could somehow get to her in order to get to Hook. But how?

  Everyone knew the Viking was immune to such things as love. Vikings were ruthless, thirsting for blood, vengeance, violence, and pleasures of the flesh. Love did not factor into their equation of life. It just did not make sense for them to tie themselves to one person, even with the prospect of mistresses. However, selecting a mother for children might be more important than laying with any woman willing to spread their legs. As such, Peter knew trying to appeal to Hook's heart would lead him nowhere - the man had no heart. But to go through something that would help him achieve power?

  The thought caused him to smirk. It would seem they were more similar than Peter expected.

  For now, Peter had to remain where he was and plan. It did not hurt that he was in The Other World. Here, he could start recruiting his army. Here, he could collect his own group of lost souls.

  Chapter 1

  Remy Cutler's heart beat like the rain that used to hit her window back in Port George, back in her home, back when she was alive. Well, she was still technically alive; she had just crossed over. Not because she chose to, either, but because Captain Nicholas Grey rescued her from an unfortunate event and brought her here, to The Neverland, himself. She had been here before, however. Had known Nick briefly. She still remembered attempting to leave her bedroom, slipping on the tree branch, hitting her head.

  Technically, she had died and ended up on Nick's ship. But she ran and opened a door - the third door on the left. Somehow, she was alive once more. She had literally escaped death. She hadn't intended on going back there ever again - until it was her time, of course. But Nick had other plans.

  Remy could still remember it, clear as day. She was arranged to be married to an older gentleman - a nice man she had no passion for but who would offer her security for the rest of her breathing days - and despite her newly acquired fear of heights, she managed to sneak down her tree and head to the docks. Her plan had been to stow away on a ship and escape once the ship docked somewhere else. No one would know she was on board. However, she had been found out before the ship even left, and if Nick hadn't stepped in, she would have died - and stayed that way.

  He had brought her back here, to The Neverland, but this time, she was alive and the third door to the left was locked. No escape. Nick didn't know how to send her back. Apparently, that was up to The Magistrate. Remy hadn't thought about it much, but she needed to schedule a
n appointment with this Creator; hopefully, they'd send her back. And soon.

  Now was not the time to dwell on that, however. Now, she had to focus on what had happened and where she was going. Peter Pan had kidnapped her for James Hook - why? She did not know, but hopefully, that would be remedied soon - and had beat the lights out of her, trying to obtain information on Nicholas Grey. Somehow, she had kept her mouth shut. Nick came for her, but so had Hook. Hook removed Peter Pan and his crew but threatened Nick. Nick, being the stubborn pirate he was, refused to let her go without a fight. A fight he would surely lose, considering he had a five-person crew.

  As such, Remy stepped forward and offered herself to Hook as long as he did not harm Nick or Nick's crew. He had saved her from certain death; now, it was her turn to do the same for him. He didn't like it. She knew he wouldn't, but they didn't have a choice. If Nick died here, in The Neverland, there was no coming back. No Heaven, no Hell. Just nothingness. Hook took the deal, and they left Nick standing there in the bedroom, helpless and frustrated.

  His entire body - the mass of muscle that made up Nicholas Grey - was hunched over and the look on his face was reminiscent of a puppy who realized her master was leaving her alone for an indeterminate amount of time during the day. It did not help that his brown eyes were dark and filled with helplessness. Pain. She wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug and promise him that it would be all right. In a way, he reminded her of a child that needed protecting trapped inside a grown man's body. He was a playful person with a boyish smile. Everything about him screamed youth. The effect was magnetic. It was no surprise why he had many women from varying social statuses throwing themselves in his path. He was charming and sweet, and though his stubborn nature could be frustrating, his intentions - for the most part - were pure and good.

  He grabbed her face, promised to find her. Her heart had jumped at his words, and for the briefest of moments, she let herself believe them. It reminded her of a time when her family was stationed in London for a summer, back when she was fifteen. She and her close friend Wendy would play damsel in distress and pretend a knight in shining armor was trying to rescue them from boredom and anything else their imagination could create. Wendy was always good at telling stories. Remy adored being with her when she read stories to her younger brothers or they were trying to come up with new games to pass the time. She hated when her father was relocated to Port George while Wendy and her family had to stay put. She didn't think she'd find someone like Wendy again, but then she met Charlie. While it wasn't the same, Charlie proved to be a trustworthy friend and companion. Still, she missed Wendy.

  However, now was not the time or the place to dwell on the past. She needed to focus.

  "I would rather you didn't," she told Nick, and it sounded cold, even to her.

  She wasn't trying to hurt him. She wasn't trying to push him away. If she was going to make this sacrifice, she needed him to respect that. And in order to do that, he needed to let her go. Remy could not say what James wanted with her. She did not think he would harm her in any way, and while she could not be certain one way or the other, that small fraction of trust would have to be enough for now. But it would all be ruined if Nick did not let her be.

  Remy did not imagine that flash of hurt in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

  The look made her pause. She did not realize it would hurt him. She did not realize she had the power to hurt him in the first place. She swallowed, looked away. Remy could not look at Nick right now, not after what had transpired between them.

  Something had shifted, something important, and she could not say when it had happened or why, but she made a note of it and decided she would keep her thoughts on it when she had a moment to think of it. Instead, she turned to her captor - though she did not know if captor was the appropriate terminology for someone who she went with willingly.

  "Ms. Cutler," Hook said with an easy smile and friendly eyes. He offered her his arm - clothed in what appeared to be a new white tunic tucked into black breeches. His blond hair was slicked back and his blue eyes were sharp and attentive. "How lovely of you to join us. I assure you that your stay here will be nothing but honorable. You shall have your own room and you will be safe while under my care."

  Remy was not sure how to respond to that. As such, she did something completely out of character: she kept her mouth shut. Instead, she reached out and took his arm with as much grace as her well-bred manners would allow in these circumstances, and let him lead her out of the room. Her neck inclined to turn back, to cast one more look at Nick as though to reassure him that everything would be okay, but her head would not let her.

  It is not your responsibility to make him feel a certain way, her mother's voice chided her. You have much more to worry about than making someone feel better.

  As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was correct. She could not waste time trying to make Nick feel better. As selfish as it sounded, she needed to take care of herself first and foremost.

  In order to take her mind off of Nick, Remy focused her attention on her captor. He would probably be the most polite captor she would ever encounter, so it was important for her to remain in his good graces.

  James led her out of the inn and to the docks. They did not walk as quickly as they might have otherwise due to Remy’s injuries. Thankfully, James seemed to understand this and did not press her to move faster than she physically could.

  It was now that Remy started feeling again. The adrenaline started to wear off and pain started to creep in and take a hold of her senses the same way a cold did. Even holding onto James’s arm was a struggle. Tensing her muscles caused them to burn, and she could see red start to creep into her vision.

  “I am sorry,” James said when they began to enter a boat that would take them to the ship. “For what you’ve gone through. It was not my intention that Pan harm you in any way. In fact, I explicitly forbade it.”

  “And what made you think someone like Pan would take orders from you?” Remy asked. At least, her voice came out strong and clear, unlike the way her body currently felt.

  James looked perplexed. He nodded to a couple of his crewmen – Remy had not even seen them, she had been too preoccupied with her pain – and they helped both of them into the boat. Soon after, they were heading toward James’s ship. When both James and Remy were sitting and as comfortable as they would get, he looked at her with that puzzled look.

  “I do not know what you mean,” he said, and his voice was sincere.

  “From what I have heard of him, Pan does not like to answer to anyone,” Remy said, struggling to get comfortable. The wooden plank underneath her was hard and rigid, making sitting on it sore. “Why would you give him power by making him in charge of capturing me and putting conditions on that power? He was bound to rebel.”

  The corners of James’s lips quirked up. “Really?” he asked her. “And how would you know this?”

  “Personal experience,” she told him, and her own lips turned up at the memory. She had not expected to share a smile with her captor so soon, but she found she could not help it. James was being tolerable – polite, even – and she found that he made her feel comfortable – her injuries subsiding, of course. “If my parents forbade me to do it just because they said so, it was something I felt compelled to do, even if I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” She shrugged her shoulders, and they screamed their discontent.

  “Are you all right?” He must have noticed a look flicker across her face, and his eyes seemed somewhat concerned. “I shall look to you myself personally once we’re aboard.”

  Remy nodded and pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything more. If she started talking, she would forget of her injuries and do something stupid, such as shrug or gesture with her hands. Things that would cause her more pain than she was already experiencing. Instead, she kept to herself, silently admonishing herself for sharing something so personal with this man in
the first place.

  Remy did not know how they managed to do it, but she was onboard and in what would be her own room on this ship faster than she expected. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was in so much pain, the only thing she could focus on was placing one foot in front of the other without taking a tumble. James held her steady, so if she were to lose her footing, he would keep her upright.

  She was on the foot of the bed, sitting on her plank. James quickly introduced her to her maid, some girl named Pam who looked no more than fourteen and who had long, elegant red hair that Remy found herself envious of. What a trivial thing to think about in a moment like this, but she could not help what her mind chose to focus on.

  “Get me water and rum,” James commanded Pam. He was not demanding, but his voice was firm and left no option for argument. Pam fled, disappearing in the blink of an eye. “Undress. I need to see everything that happened to you.”

  Remy hesitated. “I would prefer Pam to look me over,” she said in a strained voice. Her chest was tight; it was hard to breathe.

  James gave her a look of doubt. However, instead of arguing, as she thought he would, he relented. She could see it in the way his shoulders eased forward and his blue eyes shifted doubtfully.