10. Wendy

My lips burn from Wes' kiss. I don't even know how it happened, how we went from running to kissing.

He's hustled me along into the ruins of the town, seemed to know the way he was taking. Led me down streets overgrown with weeds and buildings crumbling into dust, creepers growing over the walls.

And behind it all was the sound of the sea, a relentless reminder of my nightmares, the waves crashing and crashing, a rhythm, a tide, a heartbeat, a clock ticking down the minutes.

Then we were slogging through an alley and the sea was crashing and filling my senses, and he was pushing me into a building entrance and crushing his mouth against mine.

I mean… he's beautiful. They all are.

And I can't help myself.

Shock after shock has weakened my defenses, my reason. All the pent-up excitement from the bedroom earlier makes me lose all inhibition, needing release, so I kiss him back, rub myself all over his hard body, shutting out the world, forgetting that there is supposed to be danger.

That this Hook guy is after us.

Whoever that is.

And then… Then, voices break through the haze and something pulls at us, until Wes walks us backward, back out, into the alley.

There they are, the others—Peter Pan, Colt, Tink, but also a group of unknown men, a silver-haired hunk on the lead.

I mean… God, maybe they should call this place Hunkland. Or Hunk Island. Is there a single guy who isn't drop-dead gorgeous?

The hunk looks annoyed but then his mouth turns up into a smirk. "You must be the new Wendy on the block."

"Wendy Darling," I say, lifting my chin, refusing to look afraid. "Hook, I presume?"

"You presume right." He bows. "James Hook, at your service. You can call me Jas."

"Jas…" He's dressed in old-fashioned clothes, like Peter, but Hook's are cleaner and better kept. With his silver hair and pale eyes, he looks exotic and also dangerous.

This is the guy the boys are afraid of.

But why?

He says something to Peter about plans not panning out and Peter's mouth twitches as if he wants to grin but won't. Wes is sweating bullets beside me. Obviously kissing me is off limits, for some obscure reason.

Nevertheless, they have kissed me. Well, the Twins have. Tink almost did.

Only Peter's mouth has yet to approach mine, a mouth I can't stop looking at.

And now Hook's, too.

Baby Jesus, what's the matter with me? Is it this place? Is it driving me insane, like it has Peter?

"Well, well," Hook says, his gaze locked on me. "Enjoy her while you can, then. I wonder how long this one will last at your hands. A week?"

"What?" My attention is now on Hook. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, hasn't he told you? Hasn't he warned you?" He tsks. "Bad boy, Pan."

"Shut up," Peter growls.

"Peter used to be such a nice guy," Hook goes on. "Not here, though. Not since the Fae sank their fangs in him and turned him. Since Neverland claimed him. He's a beast inside. A beast he barely controls. He says his memory goes at times. With it goes reason."

"Shut your piehole, Hook," Peter says.

Hook gives a dramatic sigh, his handsome face twisting in a parody of sympathy. "Such a pity. Leaving all the girls behind him like broken dolls to be buried."

"Buried?" Fear bleeds into me, making my breaths short and my head spin. "But—"

"I'll leave you to it," Hook says, turning toward the men behind him. "A pity. This Wendy is actually quite pretty. Goodbye, Wendy Darling. May you rest in peace."

* * *

"What was he talking about?"I demand. "Rest in peace? What did he mean?"

But the Boys don't seem to be paying me any attention.

"Shut your mouth!" Peter shouts at Hook who doesn't look back as he leaves with his men. "Shut up!"

Hook's words have rattled me. I realize that, despite everything, I had started to relax around my captors.

They haven't actually treated me badly so far, for kidnappers. They haven't hurt me.

In fact, they seemed to be trying to protect me from this Hook guy—but what if I should have gone with him?

Maybe he's the only sane one.

My fears are compounded by the way Peter is hauling me after him, his hand once more like a vise around my wrist. It hurts. I've told him so.

He doesn't appear to give a damn.

"What happened to the other girls you brought here? What happened to them? These other Wendies, where are they?"

No answer.

The others seem to be equally oblivious to my resistance, my questions, my fear. Tink is marching ahead, the pink streaks in his copper hair turned to black once more—probably a bad sign. The Twins are walking far apart, each with a scowl on their handsome faces.

And Peter…

Yeah, Peter is exuding anger, like a fire-breathing dragon.

"Peter," Wes starts—for the fourth time.

Peter says, "Shut up."

"What were the odds of us ending up at the center?" Wes chuckles nervously. "I didn't know—"

"Peter knew you'd be there," Tink says from ahead.

"He did?" Wes turns to Peter, eyes narrowing. "Wait, how could you know, when I didn't know we were at the center—"

"That wasn't the center," Tink says. "Was it, Peter?"

"No," Peter says. "It wasn't far, though. By my guess, a few kilometers, give or take."

"But then… why did you go there? Peter." Wes grabs Peter's arm, spins him around. "I'm talking to you."

Peter pulls back his fist and punches Wes square in the face, and I yelp, backtracking, trying to free my wrist from Peter's hold.

No chance of that happening, of course.

"Fuck…" Wes stumbles a few steps back. "What the fuck, man?"

"You're so predictable," Peter growls. "I knew exactly where you would go and what you would try to pull off, despite my warnings."

"Hey, if this is about the kiss…"

"Damn right it is."

"Calm your tits," Tink says, and his voice is cold, too. "You knew they'd be kissing, Peter. Your entire plan hinged on that."

Peter smirks.

"You did?" Wes mutters, wiping at his mouth. His hand comes away streaked with bright blood. His teeth, when he grimaces, are covered in it.

"Yeah, because I expect the worst from people."

"You?" Tink has stopped and turned around. "You expect the worst? For fuck's sake, Peter, you think you're some kind of saint or what?"

"Shut up, half-breed."

"Ow," Tink says flatly. "Careful, you'll hurt my feelings."

Okay, this is all too much, what they have said, what they implied, the way they talk to one another.

"What's wrong with all of you?" I shout, try again to pull my arm free of Peter's hold. "You live together. Apparently, you have a common goal. Why do you hurt each other? Why—?"

Peter hauls me against him suddenly, crushing me to his side. "I'm their king."

I gape at him. "And you think that makes it okay?"

"You don't get to talk," he snarls.

"Why, because I'll die soon?" My voice is rising and I can't help it. "Isn't that what Hook said?"

"Goddammit." Colt is suddenly there, pulling me away from Peter, and surprisingly, Peter lets go. "Come, Wendy. Let's go home."

"My home isn't here!" I'm shaking and I'm unable to stop. My wrist throbs, my heart aches. "My home is the apartment I share with Charlie, my home is my brothers and my job at the café. Not here!"

"Shush," Colt says, his face tightening. "You're not going back there, so stop talking about it. Easier that way. And stop thinking of running away. There's no way back from Neverland, do you hear me?"

Numb, I let him lead me away.

* * *

The foodthe Twins cooked earlier has turned cold and soggy.

Despite his protests earlier about not cooking, however, Tink takes over and warms the food up in a pot, then dishes it out on chipped plates he places around the table, along with tarnished silverware and mugs for the water.

So domestic and quiet after our flight and fright, after the arguments and shoving around.

So homey and so fake.

I'm still shaking. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing here, except I'm apparently to be sacrificed to the altar of mad gods and mad men.

Peter doesn't join us. He lies down on the sofa, turns his back on us, and seems to go straight to sleep.

I can't miss the way the boys keep casting worried glances his way, though. And I shouldn't care. Shouldn't be worried.

I'm not, all right? I'm worried about myself, that's all. And I distract myself with the food, because dwelling on all that has happened today is bound to eat away at the last of my sanity. I chew the meat that has begun to harden to avoid a different kind of rumination.

Stop thinking, I tell myself. Just eat and rest. Panicking all over again won't help now.

God, I wish Charlie were here with me.

Then again, no, I wouldn't want her to be in such danger. Better that I'm on my own with these psychos.

Said psychos are making short work of the food, tearing into the meat, chucking the veggies into their mouths as if their gullets are black holes, swallowing everything.

They don't seem overly concerned about my impending death or Hook's forces, Peter's madness or any of this crazy mess.

"So tell us," Tink asks, when he finally pushes his empty plate away, "why don't you like the sea? Most people do."

"I'm not most people," I mumble, shoving my food around my plate with my fork. "I'm just me."

He leans forward. "What happened to you, Wendy?"

… hands pulling me down into the dark and the cold… seagrass waving around me, the ribbons of my dress floating around me, my hair fanning around my face like a yellow anemone, poison seeping into me as I try and fail to draw breath…

"I don't want to talk about it," I whisper.

"Oh, come on, Wendy," Tink says. "Spill."

"It's none of your business!"

He harrumphs. "You're as prickly as Peter."

"Don't compare me to him," I hiss. "He's a psycho."

"He changed," Tink says, a small frown on his face. "Both he and Hook changed. Time has worn their edges down, like the sea eats at the rocks."

"Now you'll be telling me he used to be a nice guy, like Hook said?" I almost shout.

"I wouldn't say that. Wouldn't go that far." Tink huffs. "Some dark impulses run deep, you know."

I shiver.

"But he never confused his desires with his duties before," Tink goes on, softly. "He didn't confuse reality with fantasy."

"What…?" I swallow hard, stirring the veggies in my plate some more. "What about the other girls Hook mentioned? Tink, you told me… You said the other Wendies went mad and jumped off the cliffs. But Hook made it sound like… the girls went mad because of you. All of you. Or maybe just Peter."

They exchange uncomfortable glances.

"Is he going to kill me?" I whisper into the growing silence.

"What? No. He's not a killer." Colt puts his fork down. "I mean, not on purpose."

Jesus on a stick. "Meaning what?"

"He just… loses control sometimes." Colt shrugs. "During sex."

"Loses control? Only during sex?" Got to get those details clear, right?

Colt sighs. "He's a… a dominant. Who can't always control his urges. And he likes to cause pain."

"So he's a sadist."

"Yeah." Another shrug, "Girls seem to find it… traumatic."

"Christ. And you?"

"You're asking if I'm a sadist?" Colt turns his gaze away. "I guess all of us here are into pain. And violence. The thing with this place is that… it breaks down your control, you see. We fuck violently. And some girls can't take it. Physically. Or mentally."

"We fuck violently." What the hell? He says it like it's something normal, something everyone has to deal with. Losing control with a girl.

And why do I throb down below when I should be screaming and running for the door, no matter the consequences?