The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys, #4)

by Nikki St. Crowe

“I like you, Smee,” I tell her. “But you threaten my brother again and it’ll be the last. I’m no artist, but I’m an expert at violence and I will paint a fucking masterpiece with your blood.”

“Do you know where she is?” I keep my voice level, give nothing away. “So you can destroy her too?” I pull in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Would you like a play by play? Do you want to know where I’ll stick my cock, how I’ll make her scream my name? Destroying something can feel good, Smee. I promise you that.” “You are hopeless,” she says.

Haven’t I always yearned for love? To be protected and cared for? So why do I feel so damn vulnerable? His intimate knowledge of my weaknesses chaffs like new wool.

“I got you, Win,” Vane says, and I know he’s tapped into that grief, can feel the gnarled hands of it.

“Haven’t we already gone over this?” He leans into me, his arm tight around my waist as he nestles his body between my legs. “I don’t want to save you.” “Then why do you keep reassuring me like I’m some weak little kitten?” In one fluid motion, he rips off my shirt, wraps his hand around my throat, and drives me down on the table. “Go on, kitten. Save yourself then.”

“You’re already soaked,” he says, eyeing the damp fabric. “You’re no longer chasing me, and I’m no longer running.”

My breathing quickens. “Fuck me, Vane. Hard.” “It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do.”

“There was a time I wanted you to run faster, so you could escape me.” I stroke him. He growls. “But I don’t think there was any stretch of land vast enough that would have stopped me.”

I moan loudly. He growls at my ear as his cock throbs against my clenched inner walls, as he pounds into me, the table scraping over the floor. We are fire and debris from lives lived broken and terrified. We fuck like love is a salve we are terrified of using up. We fuck like there is only now. Now. Now. Now.

Vane pulls out slowly, then pushes in again, the muscles in his back flexing as he holds me close. “I can feel it,” he says, a soft utterance, a quiet secret. “Feel what?” “Your love,” he says. “In my chest.” He kisses my cheek, lingering close. “I can feel your love like a million golden stars in the endless abyss that is me.” His words hit me in the gut and wings fill my insides.

Vane looks down at me, swiping the tear away, and I lean into his hand as the trembling subsides. “Promise me you will always be there.” He tilts me up to him and kisses me gently. “I promise, Win.”

“I promised Pan I wouldn’t leave your side, so I guess I’m also taking a bath.” I laugh. This is an unexpected gift and it’s enough to assuage the unease in my belly. The incomparable Dark One is going to take a bath with me. This will be fun.

Vane takes my foot in hand and kneads at the soft flesh. “Give Pan some leeway.” My eyes pop open. I see how it is. This is clearly a trap and he’s trying to lull me with a foot massage. “Pan was being an asshole.”

losing them too.” “They’re little royal shits,” he says. “I don’t care what they do.” I prod at his hard stomach with my other foot. “Liar.” He grumbles. “Fine. But if you tell them I said this I’ll fuck you just to the edge of coming and then I’ll leave you to squirm. I’ll do that day after day until you can’t see straight.”

I nod, trying not to break the spell. I like listening to him speak about the others when he’s not trying to hide his love for us. Vane gives so little away, but in this moment, I realize that in his stillness, he gets to know us, maybe even better than we know ourselves.

“When we get to the palace,” he goes on, “you stay by my side. You don’t leave my side for any reason or any excuse. Do you understand?” “What if I have to go to the bathroom?” He presses harder on my calf muscle and my eyes pop open. “Too hard.” “Do you understand, Win?” “Fine. Yes. I understand.”

He continues up the curve of my leg, massaging at the back of my thigh, and I breathe out in an excited little gasp as he gets closer to my center. “You got enough for one day,” he says. “How dare you,” I say. He chuckles, and it’s the single greatest sound in the world. “Needy little whore.” “Always.”

Darling bends forward, her mouth at my ear. “I’ll let you tie me up later.” “Excuse me. ‘Let me?’” I shake my head. “If I want to tie you up, Darling, I’ll tie you up and you’ll take it like a good girl.”

“I want that,” I tell him, and my skin pops with goosebumps. “Tease me until I can’t think straight.” “When you’ve earned it,” he says, the corner of his mouth curving. “Now be a good girl and get in the dress, Darling.”

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that when I’m happy, loved, and safe, I have no need to move.

“Did you love her?” I ask. “Bold question, Darling girl.” “Did you?” He sighs and looks away. “I loved how she made me feel.” “And how is that?” “Let me rephrase that.” He meets my gaze again. “I loved that for a moment, with her, I could pretend I could feel.”

“It’s all right, Tilly Willy,” I tell her. “You’re not alone now.” She nods her head, sucks in her tears. “Now come on,” I say. “Let’s dry our eyes and go murder our mother.”

“You thought it would be easy. You thought you would arrive at some point in your future where your troubles melted away. It’s a trap, Peter Pan. I have lived a long time and I’ve seen a great many things, and I can assure you, there is no point in the future where problems do not exist. Where your doubts are no more. Your hardships gone. Where things are easy.

“There is no point in the future where it doesn’t hurt right here”—I tap at my chest—“when something you love breaks or abandons you. There is only now and what you do with that now.”

“Well, go on then, Peter Pan,” I mutter. “Don’t make a show of it.”

A geyser of water comes up and Peter Pan, glowing like a star, shoots off, burning through the clouds. Peter Pan can still fly, it would seem. I suspect gods need no shadow to take to the sky.

“As if I could ever command you, Peter Pan.” He takes a sip from his drink and breathes out around the heat. “Let’s try it out. Command me, Darling.” “Get on your knees for me.” The boys ooohhh behind me. Vane snorts with amusement. Pan drains the rest of his drink and sets it down, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. And then he sinks to his knees in front of me. “Stop it,” I say, but I’m laughing. The twins quickly follow suit, Bash first, then Kas, their wings flush against their backs. I lock eyes with Vane. The glass is still clutched in his hand. If any of them were to tell me to fuck off… Vane swirls the last of the liquor in the glass, then slings it back and sets the glass on the desk. He comes over to me, takes my hand, and bends to his knees. He plants a chaste kiss on the rise of my knuckles and says, “As the queen commands it.”