Hook's Pan (8 page)

Danika frowned. “Point is, me dear, you’ve got three days to convince him he’s not without hope. This ridiculous war he’s got with Pan, it must end. Though, the likelihood of that ever happening is slim to none, at the least it must decrease. The Fae world has grown tired of his scheming, particularly because of the lies that bloody Tinker spreads. Conniving, little bi-”

“Whoa,” Trisha held up her hand, “Tinker. As in Tinkerbell?”

“Indeed.” Danika nodded gravelly.

This just kept getting better and better.

“Pan is like her child and she’s quite frightening when it comes to him, the depths she’s willing to sink to keep him safe, it’s rather dastardly. Though she did one kindness in all of her life…that is that she—”

“Pop the bubble, you bloody damn fairy or I shall,” James growled, “I’ll not have machinations being played out I’m not privy to.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve kept him waiting long enough. Just know this, you cannot leave, or escape, so don’t try. But please, try to have fun here. If you don’t wish to stay once the three days expire, you don’t have to.”

Pursing her lips, Trisha tried to think. But there was too much chaos in her brain at the moment, like someone had tipped over a jar full of marbles and they were all rumbling and tumbling over one another.

What she really needed was to get away from everybody and everything and just think.

Danika popped the bubble.

“What did you two speak of?” James drawled and Trisha rolled her eyes, taking a giant step away from him.

“So since I obviously can’t leave, where’s my room? I have a headache and I need to think.”

A shiver coursed down her spine when his lips stretched wide into a secretive type smile.

“Room? Where do you think you are, little Pan?” He spread his arms wide. “Women stay in my room, in my bed.”

The way he said bed, with that rolling, scratchy burr of his, it made her stomach clench.

“Fine,” she said, happy her voice didn’t crack or sound breathy, “go away then.”

Slapping a palm to his thigh, he laughed again.

Danika’s eyes widened once more and Trisha honestly didn’t understand her reaction, she was acting like no one ever talked to Hook this way. But she really didn’t care; she was tired and just wanted both of them to leave her alone.

“Is she always this savage, fairy?” he asked, but didn’t take his eyes off her face. They roamed over her with an excited gleam in their hard, black depths.

“Well, umm…” Danika hedged, but James didn’t give her a chance to finish.

“You amuse me, mortal,” he said as he glided toward her, stopping only when he was a hairsbreadth away, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. For a while. But make no mistake who is captain here.”

Taking hold of a length of her hair, he let it slide between his fingers. Trisha trembled at the overwhelming masculinity he exuded. If it were possible to smell pheromones, she thought, maybe his might smell like prowling jaguar mixed with potent stud. It was exciting and even slightly dangerous. But she was up to the challenge.

“You don’t scare me, Hook.” She flicked the tip of his silver handled hand and stepped in closer, closing off the distance, making her nipples rub up against the crisp cotton of his shirt.

Lips twitching, he licked his upper teeth and held her frozen for another one of those intense, panty-melting gazes. She knew turning away first would be conceding defeat. He was the male lion sniffing her out, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

After what felt an eternity, he finally smiled. It was a small thing, a tiny curl of the lips at the corners, but it was like taking ten thousand volts of lightening and shoving it down her throat. It was arcing through her veins, singing through her blood, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Turning abruptly on his heels, he walked toward the door, stopping at the desk briefly to grab his decanter of spirits, before walking out. He never looked back.

“You’ll love him, Trisha, I swear it,” Danika said. “The attraction the two of you already share, can you not feel it?”

Oh yeah, she felt it. Felt the fire, felt the reckless desire to run through the flame. But she shook her head, because even if Neverland was real, Hook was real, love was not.

“Open your mind and let the memories return, remember him and you’ll see I speak truth.”

“Love,” she scoffed, finally finding her voice, “the stuff of fairytales and nightmares. No thank you. I didn’t sign up for that. I’ll stay here three days, whatever, but love…no. Lust, maybe.” She smirked. “I won’t deny he’s a sexy S.O.B. But don’t expect miracles.”

Sighing loudly, the little fairy only nodded. “Yes. Yes. Get in line, Trisha. Your skepticism is nothing new to me, in fact, let me enlighten you further. Not only is he the love of your life, but you lived in this world before. A long, long time ago. You were a maiden of the sea. What you mortals call mermaids.”

Trisha opened her mouth, but Danika routed her. “You see, I told you I’m immune to your skepticism. And you may not believe now. But you will. I know who you are, who you really are, and who you’ll be again. I swear to you, Trisha, love is real and it can happen to you. But you must be willing to let go and believe.”

With those words she vanished inside the twirling tunnel of stars.

Dropping down to the bed, Trisha stared at the rug. And what she saw wasn’t the carpet, but the memory of a girl who’d loved once and lost everything because of it.

Hook popped the cork out of the decanter and drank, enjoying the skin stripping sizzle of the whiskey as it flowed hot down his throat. The sun had set hours ago and a million stars burned up the navy canvas of sky above him. Below him the Never Sea rocked gently, its depths glowing neon blue from the thousands of glow fish during its mating call. Making the world appear as if it were full of stars from every conceivable corner.

The black silhouette of mountain ranges appeared like the craggy profile of a woman at slumber. Wind, smelling of salt and the wild, kissed his temples and ran long fingers through his hair.

Spreading his legs wide, he inhaled deeply. This was his home, where he belonged, with the sea, sailing its tide.

He chugged another mouthful, eyes tearing instantly, and then huffed as it burned a path straight to his stomach.

“Captain,” Smee’s concerned voice carried to him, “I heard a…”

Rolling his gaze toward his first mate, James tipped the empty decanter down with a disgusted frown, before dropping it to the deck. The glass rolled toward Smee, who stooped to pick it up.

“Ignore anything you hear coming from my cabin,” he said.

“But, sir. It sounded like a woman’s voice… You know how the crew get about taking a woman out to sea. ‘Tis said…”

“Yes,” he leaned casually against the rail, studying his nails in the dim moonlight, “I know. Calypso is a jealous mistress and refuses to share, but you see, dear Smee…” He swayed to the rocking of the ship, walking toward one of the three images of Smee, hoping to clap the real one on the shoulder and not the drink induced vision, as he would surely fall and smack his head on deck should he pick the wrong one. Thankfully, he was spared any humiliation when he gripped the left shoulder of his man. “I am told she is the daughter of Calypso.”

Smee’s eyes widened. “A maid of the sea?”

“Or so says Danika. In fact,” he clapped Smee again, so hard he stumbled back a step, “she claims the lass is none other than Talia.”

“Ta…” Blinking hard, Smee shook his head. “Your betrothed?”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t faze him, as if he didn’t want to slam his cabin door open, barge back into that room, and demand she tell him the truth.

But he wasn’t the bastard all the tales made him out to be. Beneath the icy exterior beat a heart. It was mangled and blackened, but it existed. Few ever got to see it, but Talia had. She’d taken the good and the bad and loved him all the more for it.

The woman looked nothing like his Talia.

Many stories would have you believe a maid could come and go upon the shores at whim, it wasn’t the case. A maid was tied to her waters, but it hadn’t been a problem for them, for he’d been tied to them too. Though different in form, in soul, they’d been alike. She’d taken him in, made him her own, and shown the other maidens the black guard was more than the tales.

“But that cannot be. When a maiden’s body is destroyed her soul sails upon the…” Smee lifted his hand.

Swinging a hand through the air, James twirled and growled. “Enough! I know the stories well. If you’ve nothing more to say, then you may go.”

Fire raced through his gut. He was tired of this endless routine, suffering each night for the loss of what he’d never have again. Danika had come with her lies and her silver tongue and promised all sorts of fairytales…but there was one who’d never lie to him—because she hated him nearly as much as he hated himself.

Lifting a brow, he stared at his man.

Smee cleared his throat, jerking to a ramrod position. “Aye, sir, in fact I do,” his Irish brogue thickened just slightly. “We’re soon to enter the drop, are the settings still the same?”

Squeezing the bridge of his nose against the sudden throbbing building behind it, he said a bit more gruffly than he’d intended, “Have I given you any reason to think I’ve changed my mind?”

Clenching his jaw, Smee turned as if to go and Hook sighed.

“Blast it, man, I’m sorry. I’m just out of sorts right now. Aye, keep to the course we’ve set, I’ve more reason now than ever to visit Seren.”

“Yes, sir,” Smee said, voice sounding tired.

It was on the tip of Hook’s tongue to say more, but really, what more was there to say? He’d been an ass to nearly everyone for the past century. The time for apologies was past. Turning back toward the prow, he gripped the rails. Soon they’d enter the drop, and he’d be unable to speak with the inhabitants of the upper world. Cupping a hand around his mouth, he whispered with strength, “Tinkerbell.”

She hated to be called. Especially by him. In fact she rarely came, unless it benefited her in some way, but if Danika didn’t lie, then surely she’d know and curiosity at the very least, would drive her to him.

Staring at the glassy surface of the neon sea, he squinted as a bright orange flame fell as if a star falling from the heavens. Glancing up, he licked his teeth as the shooting sparks of flame zigged and zagged through the sky before a statuesque, ten-inch fairy dropped to the mass of corded rope beside him.

Dressed in nothing more than strategically placed moss, she quirked a smooth blonde brow. Masses of straight hair spilled down her back, threaded through with mini red roses. Eyes the color of a sunlit ocean gazed back at him.

“What?” Tinkerbell asked without preamble, sharp little fangs in prominent display as she crossed her arms under her breasts. “I should neuter you for that stunt today.”

Bending over the rail, he rested his chin on his fist. “Tell me,” he drawled, choosing to ignore her outburst. If she’d wanted to cut off his balls, she would have already. Tinker wasn’t one to ever make idle threats, she merely did. “Surely you’ve heard what your sister is up to.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you imply I give a whit about what that crackpot Danika does, you do not know me at all.” She cocked her head and flitted up a little, large mother of pearl wings fluttering gently behind as she mimicked walking on air. Every step she took left a golden shower burst of stardust behind; it glittered upon the wood like twinkling light. “If, however, you refer to the girl,” she smiled viciously, “I may have heard something.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, of course she had, she wouldn’t have come to him otherwise. “And what, pray tell, did Danika tell you about it?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Tilting his face up, he inhaled a greedy gulp of salt tinged air. Soon they’d be in the
under
and the smell he loved would remain behind.

“Then why are you asking me? Ask her. She’s your godmother.”

“Because I find my godmother has an exceedingly annoying habit of trying to keep me happy and right now, I’d rather know the truth.”