by Dee Garcia
“West End of London. In Bloomsbury,” Sam states, just as I’m setting the call on speaker and rolling onto my side, the tips of my fingers dancing along her silky smooth skin.
Down her stomach.
To her thighs.
I’m not done with her.
“Sounds affluent.”
“It is. We’ve been watching him since yesterday.”
“I trust the witches were as helpful as the Sacred Six claimed?” Not that I truly care at the moment. The witches could’ve told the brood to go to hell for all I care. What I care about, am entirely enraptured by, is the way Tinksley’s body breaks out in goosepimples under my gentle caress.
“How do you think we found him?” Sam quips.
“Hmm, well, we’ll have to thank them when we get home.”
“Might be sooner than you think. Doesn’t look like he leaves the confines of this building often. Only time he emerged last night was around ten or so, with a brunette on his arm. They took a walk, came back, and the lights went out. She, on the other hand, left early this morning in a nurse uniform and returned around five. We’re waiting to see if they’ll step out again.”
Interesting, yet unsurprising really.
More likely than not, the bastard is hiding. Probably fearing his dearest father will appear from the shadows and with a way to end him much like he deserves.
“Sounds like you’ve gotten a little peek of Pan’s past. Any chance her name is Wendy?” I inquire, spreading Tinksley’s legs, seeking out the delectable heat whispering my name.
“Not sure, Cap. Emil took some shots of her this morning. Let’s see if we can clarify the name on her tag. In the meantime, you and T should probably start finalizing a plan. If anything changes, we’ll let you know, obviously.”
“I’ll let Tinksley know.” I meet her stare, pad of my middle finger running along her slit.
I’m ending the call after that, still hard, hellbent on resuming where we left off. Doesn’t matter how many times I take her, it’s never enough.
“Think the brunette is Wendy?” Tinksley queries, those coy tropical irises telling me she’s on the very same page.
“Absolutely. She’s the reason he did what he did, and with no one else to turn to after your father’s warning, she’s all he has to fall back on.” Pushing her onto her back, I realign myself at her entrance, sliding in with a slow, singular roll of my hips. “Enough about who she is or not. We have a plan to devise, remember?”
Tinksley mewls appreciatively, coaxing me toward her with a finger at my chin. “We’ll talk about it later, preferably when you’re not balls deep inside me.”
“What’s wrong? Can’t multitask, baby?” I chuckle.
“I can, but I don’t want to think about all the ways I could end them while you’re fucking me.”
“While I’m what?”
A devilish smirk curls her lips. “While. You’re. Fucking me.”
“Jesus, your mother might have a heart attack if she heard the things that come out of your delicious little mouth these days.”
“You’re killing me,” Tinksley laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Now stop talking and fuck me, Hook.”
I chortle myself, giving her a warning thrust. “Ask and you shall receive, my little pixie.”
Exactly one week later…
It’s been a week since the brood found Peter and every day we receive the same report. The brunette is, in fact, Wendy—who leaves for work early in the morning. Peter, however, never leaves. Tinksley thinks it’s because he’s afraid, that he’s likely under the impression their father will come for him regardless of the fact he left as instructed.
The Fae Lord isn’t going to come for him, though.
His sister is, in all her immortal glory.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I ask, staring up at the bay window of the third floor.
Beside me, I feel Tinksley nod. “I’ve never been more ready.”
“Just fair warning—if he lays a single finger on you, I’m ripping his throat out.”
“Not necessary, Cap. I’ve got this. If he’s not felt a lick of remorse for what he’s done, he will before he takes his last breath,” she growls.
And he will. Her plan is…Brutal to say the least.
“Remind me to never piss you off,” I joke.
Tinksley giggles softly and peeks up at me with impish eyes. “On the contrary, I hope you piss me at least once per week. The make-up sex would be so good.”
Can’t help myself from pulling her into my side, my hand snaking into her hair, yanking her head back. “You’re naughty as hell, you know that? Standing out here, minutes away from unleashing the gates of hell, and you’re thinking about that?”
“Just saying, baby. You know I’m right.” She smirks.
“You are,” I agree, pecking her lips chastely. “That said, let’s get this over with so I can get you back home and start fulfilling that little fantasy of yours.”
“You’re ready?”
“I’ve been ready since your father dragged him to Rosewood.” Releasing my grip in her mane, I reach between us for her hand and give it a squeeze.
She squeezes back.
And then we’re moving, flashing onto the narrow balcony in a sheer blast of movement. Through the window, I can make out two forms tucked safely in bed, likely somewhere in the ninth realm of a deep slumber.
Unfortunately for them, such peace ends right about…
Now.
Sliding open the window, I allow Tinksley to hop inside first. I’m right behind her, swooping under the paned glass, my boots hitting the carpet with a muffled thud.
Not muffled enough, though, because seconds later, two alarmed faces shoot up with a gasp, their gazes tracking around the room until they see our shadowed figures before the window.
♫ Blood - In This Moment ♫
“If you scream, I promise this will end so much worse. For the both of you,” I grit, feeling that ripple of power surge through me with Hook’s steadying hand at the small of my back.
“Tinks?” Peter rasps, balled up hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
A dubious, cynical laugh vibrates through the air. “I’m surprised you remember my name.”
“Of course I do,” he asserts. “What are you—”
“Peter, what’s going on?” Wendy interjects, clear, blue eyes wide as saucers. “Do you know these people?”
“Technically, yes, but it’s her you need to be concerned about,” Callan warns, voice so dark and delicious it amplifies the pressing sense of danger occluding the room.
“Concerned? Why?” Peter all but squeaks, holding an arm out before Wendy. “T, what’s going on?”
Another laugh escapes me, head cocking aside. “Did you really just ask me that?”
“Tinksley, please, you have to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I was in danger, I had to go!” he tries explaining. “I didn’t want to leave you. If I could’ve brought you with me—”
“Brought me with you?” I scoff. “And been what, your third wheel? No, thank you. I’ll pass.”
“You dated him?” Wendy dares ask. Her tone isn’t assertive, but I’m irked she has the nerve to speak to me.
Leaving the safety of Hook’s embrace, I take tentative steps toward the end of their bed, the hooked sword gently tapping against my thigh with the motion. “Oh dear, sweet Wendy. I didn’t date him. I thought we were at one point in time, but it turns out that, he just liked to fuck me.”
Venom drips off my words, so much that, Wendy swallows deeply. Audibly. “How do you know my name?”
“The question you should be asking is, why didn’t you know mine until right now?” I take pleasure in the way her disgustingly pretty features contort as she considers my query. “It’s not important, really. Only serves to reiterate my point. He just like to fuck me.”
“Tinksley, stop.” Peter croaks, snapping my stare ba
ck on his shirtless, pathetic form.
“Why? Afraid I’ll tell her about your dirty little secret?” I snicker, fending off the beast one last time. Soon, I remind it.
“Stop,” he tries again, panic clearly taking hold as he realizes I know.
Fingertip skating the white iron frame of the footboard, I start making my way to his side of the bed. “Think she’ll still love you then, Peter?”
“Peter, what is she talking about?” Poor Wendy’s clinging to his arm, stare boring into the side of his chiseled face.
“STOP!” he barks, making way to stand should I get that close.
Which I will, eventually, but not yet. Let the bastard sweat.
Behind me, Callan moves from his spot before the window, yanking Wendy onto her feet. His hand slaps over her mouth from behind, muffling her shrill. “I’m going to need you to stay where you are or your little dolly’s pretty blue nightgown might get a bit dirty.”
“Stay away from her,” Peter grates.
“Then watch how you talk to what’s mine,” Callan growls, tightening his hold on the girl.
“Yours?” Peter’s stare bounces between us. “Now she’s yours?”
“All his,” I coo proudly. Quite satisfied, too, considering his incredulous reaction. A reaction he has zero right to, should I remind you.
“Seriously? I leave and you hang onto the pirate?” he snarls.
“Is that a problem? Does it make you mad, Peter?” I hedge.
“Yes—it’s Hook! He’s a thief, a cheat!”
“Yeah? And you’re a liar, worst one of them all,” I toss back, catching Wendy rip Hook’s hand off from the corner of my eye.
“What is going on?” she whines. “Who are you people? How did you get here? What do you want?”
“Woah, woah, slow down, little Wendy. One question at a time.” I chuckle, zeroing in on the erratic tempo of her heart. “See what I mean? He’s a liar. Oh, and, for the record, we’re not exactly ‘people’.”
“Then what are you?”
Showtime.
One look at Callan, whose features quickly morph into their vampiric state, and I feel myself do the same—vision crispening, tunneling on the reason I’m here to seek revenge, the potent scent of their fear intensifying the craving building behind it.
Peter pales at the sight of me, jumping to his feet right as Wendy’s scream is muffled once more. “He turned you?”
“He had to,” I grate, inhaling deep breaths of my own. Barely containing the Fae from finally breaking the barrier.
“Let her go,” Peter directs at Hook.
“Oh, she’s fine, Pan. Relax.” Callan releases his grip on her mouth to make a point. “Don’t you want to know why I had to turn your little plaything?”
“Turned? What are you people?” Wendy whispers, chest rising and falling in harrowing fear.
“Vampires,” Peter answers, stare drowning in disbelief.
Wendy gasps; I laugh. It’s amusing to say the least.
“He’s not wrong,” Hook comments playfully.
“He’s also not completely right,” I add. “Again, Wendy, all of this isn’t important. You’re going to die anyway, so…”
Those sky blue eyes of hers widen anew, mouth popping open to—
“Don’t scream, pretty,” my Captain croons, fangs elongating along the curve of her neck. “I’ll have far too much fun draining you of your life.”
“Don’t hurt her, please. What do I have to do for you to leave her alone?” Peter pleads, flashing me a desperate look.
“I just want you to listen,” I state.
He nods, palms snapping up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I can do that.”
Damn right you will. “You have no choice.” I plop myself onto the plush armchair not so far away. “Might want to relax and listen up, too, Wendykins. Let’s see how much he’s lied to you as well. Shall we?”
“Did you die? Is that why he turned you into this?” Peter says this as if we’re the most vile, detestable creatures walking this earth.
Has he ever looked in a fucking mirror? Does he have zero self-awareness? “I didn’t just die, Peter…I killed myself.” I cross one leg over the other as his brown eyes bulge.
“Why would you ever do that?”
The audacity. The. Sheer. Audacity.
I’m out of my newly-acquired seat, jamming my finger roughly against his forehead. “You, you fucking piece of shit, that’s why!”
“T, if I knew—”
“Don’t say if you knew I loved you, because you knew. Oh, you knew.”
“Peter, what is she talking about? How long have you known her?” Wendy presses, prompting Hook to voice the very question I’d been wondering.
“Darling, Wendy, do tell us, enlighten us. What did Peter here tell you about his sudden disappearance?”
She swallows, struggling to form a proper sentence. “T-that his mom had been killed, and her murderers t-took him after. Took him almost a decade to escape and come back to me.”
Wow. She really doesn’t have a single clue. Not that I’m surprised. Evidently, Callan isn’t either. We laugh freely, as a result, the sounds of our merriment reverberating off the walls.
“Why do you keep laughing?” Her voice trembles in uncertainty.
“Because this just keeps getting better and better.” I shake my head at the ironic hilarity of it all. “In all fairness, his mother was killed, and technically, he was ripped out of his home, but it wasn’t her murderers who took him.”
“Then who?” She’s gawking at him as she asks this, undoubtedly surmising the truth within the confines of her mind.
“He’s the murderer.” Hook grind wickedly as said truth steals the air from her lungs.
“That’s right, sweet Wendy. Your man killed his mommy, all so your daddy couldn’t have her. You know, in the name of love and all of that,” I throw flippantly.
Even in the darkness, only the moonlight casting in from the open window, I see the tears well in her eyes. The utter look of distress and betrayal that seizes her from the inside out.
“Where did you go then? If this is true, then where did you go?” she croaks, struggling in Callan’s hold.
I suspect if he lets her go, she might run across the room and knock Peter on his ass. He may not have killed her father, but he left the man broken when he took his love’s life. Must have left her broken, too.
“Rosewood,” Peter says evenly.
“Where is that?” Wendy presses.
“In another realm.”
“Another realm?”
“The supernatural?” I chime in, waving a hand between Hook and I. “As you can see, it’s all very real, sweetheart. Vampires, witches, fairies, wolves. We have a little bit of everything—even Fae like me and Peter.”
“Fae?”
“They’re like fairies—only evil. Terrible tempers.” Callan’s baby blues drag up my form sensuously.
“I-I’ve never seen him look like you,” Wendy states.
“Because he didn’t trigger it until after killing his mother. And when my father crossed the portal to drag his ass to Rosewood because of it, the witches cursed him; a forever subdued Fae side with the inability to age.”
“Why did your father come for him?” she asks.
“Tinksley, DON’T,” Peter pipes up suddenly.
Oh yeah, he definitely knows I’m fully aware of his transgressions now.
Eyes narrowing, a gratified smile carves itself on my lips as I savor the secret he never thought would come to light. “Because he’s his father, too,” I decree.
Sneering it.
Spitting it, hoping and praying they’ll forge into daggers and cleave through his soul.
A gust of wind billows through the room, whirling a deluge of emotions about. I breath it in, all of it, relishing the fresh, crisp air and the peace it brings me. Silence falls in its wake, Wendy looking to Peter, Peter at me. When she still doesn’t speak, barely containing the sob in
her throat, I hold my head higher, ready to finally put my demons to rest.
“That’s right, Wendy—Peter’s my brother. Well, half brother, but still, we share the same blood, nonetheless. I didn’t know this—oh no.” I roll my eyes at the old, naive version of myself. “I didn’t find this out until recently. Peter, here, though—he knew. He knew I was his little sister and he still fucked me, filled me with his weak cum, took my goddamn virginity.”
“T, ENOUGH!” Peter grits murderously through his teeth.
“Oh, I’ve had enough. That’s why I’m here. Tell me, Peter…Did you like fucking me? Did you like fucking your sister?” I take precise, predatory steps toward him.
“Stop,” he grits again.
“Why, because you don’t want to admit it aloud? You don’t want your little wench to hear how much you liked fucking your younger sister”—another step—”How you lied to me, how you fucking used me, how you left me, how you fucking broke me!”
“Please st—”
The rest never comes to be.
I’m on him in a single breath, a vicious growl impeding the airwaves as everything in my entire being augments again. It’s all the more clear, more powerful, yet rather than tinge in that scarlet veil, it darkens, highlighting nothing but Peter.
And judging by the way he looks at me, the sound of his heartbeat now thrashing in my ears as if it’s my own. I know exactly what he’s seeing.
My true, deadly colors are showing—the Fae finally freed—and I’m living for it.
“I fucking killed myself over you! Sobbed for you until I nearly cried my eyes out! I loved you, and the worst part is, you let me love you despite knowing it was wrong!”
“Please, let me go,” Wendy simpers in her own plight, sniffling through silent tears streaming down her face. “Please, I didn’t know any of this.”
“We know, but witnesses are an issue,” I snap, never once letting my gaze stray from the trash pinned before me.
“I won’t tell a soul, I swear on everything,” she pleads.
“Yeah, that’s not going to cut it.”
