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The door creaks when I give it a push. It’s not as big as my room at home and the first pang of longing takes me by surprise. I cannot go home. I have no home other than my ship. Peter Pan made that clear enough.
Mills, the innkeeper, was all too happy to give me an extra key when I told her I wanted to surprise my very best friend Captain James Hook. “He looked like he was in need of one,” Mills said. “A friend that is.” “Oh you have no idea,” I’d answered.
He’s shaved in the days since he left me. Why? He looks younger by half. Less rakish pirate, more merchant’s son pretending to be something else. Perhaps he’s trying to hide from me, as if a beast like myself wouldn’t know him in the dark.
As I sailed here, I plotted all of the ways I’d make Captain Hook scream. But now that I’m standing in front of him, a scream doesn’t seem quite as satisfying as a moan. Perhaps I’ll toy with him first. Perhaps I will enjoy it.
The bullet hits the wall just over my shoulder and the plaster pebbles, plinking to the floor. “You missed me, Captain,” I say and toss a peanut shell. “I missed you too.”
His breath is hot, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “I’m going to kill you.” I laugh a little. “You keep saying that.” “Stop fucking smiling!” “Maybe you should try smiling more, Captain.” I flash him my teeth. “Perhaps I’ll give you a reason to smile.”
“I can assure you, Captain, if I wanted you dead, I would just eat you. Every tasty little bite.”
“Let me guess,” the Captain says. “She told you that you were the best lay she’d ever had?” “Well that goes without saying.” He scoffs. “I really do fuck like a god. Ask anyone.” “I would rather not.” “I could show you.”
We are a dichotomy, the Captain and I. He wants to forget who he is and I am afraid I might not remember who I was.
The way he looks like a dark moon feels, like a mystery, like a secret.
“Is that not what all alcohol does?” “You don’t get drunk, Captain.” He leans in closer so he can whisper in my ear. “You just get bold.”
A shiver races down my spine. I’ve sailed the seas of the Seven Isles. I’ve visited five of the seven islands. Fought other pirates and killed many more. And yet some days I am aware that I am driven mostly by fear. Fear of who I am. Fear of who I’m not. Fear of what happens when I face myself in the mirror. To be bold is to be truthful and I am built of lies.
can think of one very fun way for you to shut me up.” “Bloody hell.” I grip my drink harder. I’m shocked the clay hasn’t cracked. “I’m talking about blow jobs, Captain.”
“Blow jobs are a power dichotomy,” he says and sits up straighter, dusting the shell from his hands. “Most people think that being on your knees and getting railed in the face is a position of submission. But a man is never more vulnerable than he is when his cock is in someone’s mouth. Especially a mouth with sharp teeth.”
How quickly the world blurs when I am tempted by a beast.
“You lay one finger on my rock,” I tell her, “and I’ll devour you whole.” “Is that some kind of sexual innuendo?” The Captain brings his hook up and sets it on the table. The metal clangs loudly against the wood. The girl glances at it before looking up at the Captain’s face, asking a question that I think she already knows the answer to. “If you’d like my advice, young lady, I wouldn’t tempt him,” he says.
“Perhaps you and I go back to my room and have a little fun and we can see if anything shakes loose.” The Captain is now glaring at her. “Please accept my apologies.” I reach across the table and pat her hand. “I plan on fucking him tonight so I must decline.”
“I don’t know if the fairy magic has gotten to your head,” the Captain says, leaning into me, “but you are not—” he lowers his voice “—fucking me tonight.” “Oh? Did you want to fuck me instead?”
“What changed?” Everything, I think. “Now I find pleasure in watching you squirm.” “A different kind of torture.” His voice is a grumble of annoyance, but I catch the bulge between his legs growing larger. “Why don’t you give in to me,” I tell him. “And let me repent for what I did to you all those years ago.”
“Better now?” the Crocodile asks. “You kissed me,” I blurt like a drunk idiot. He smiles. “It was a calculated distraction.” It worked. Except I can hear my father’s voice in my head. Poor form, boy. Cavorting with the enemy.
“If I had known killing men for you would get you so horny, I would have slaughtered a village a long time ago.”
“Tell me, Captain, are you sober? Do you know what you’re asking for? Because once you have it, there is no turning back.” “Are you insinuating you’re a drug?” I smile showing all my sharp teeth. “I’m insinuating that once you have me, you will not be the same after.”
“When’s the last time you had a cock in your ass?” He scoffs. “Why does that matter?” “You know why.” His expression softens with embarrassment. “It’s been a while,” he admits. As I thought. “I’ll go easy on you then.” I let go of his balls and he sighs with relief. “You will be panting my name by the end of the night.”
I would always wonder what it might have been like, facing my greatest enemy, and then taking pleasure from him. Oh who the fuck am I kidding? I just fucking want him. That’s it.
“I want to fuck your arrogant fucking face.”
“Show me,” he demands. “Show me the cock Wendy Darling chose over mine.”
I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. It’s like he’s worshipping me. Me. Of all people. I feel like I’m the king of the fucking world.
“I haven’t got all night.” “Of course. Sorry Jab—” I cut her off. “No one knows me by that name here. Never speak it.” The blush that hits her cheeks spreads down her neck, pooling at her cleavage. “I…I didn’t mean…” “Fetch it now, Mills, before I lose my patience.”
“He told the witch to show me my sins. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. She cut me, then gave me a tea that tasted awful and I remember waking up at home, in my own bed. I thought it had been a dream and I forgot about it for a time. Until I displeased my father again. And he cut me across the face and showed me my reflection.”
He closes his eyes, tension pressing into the fine lines. “I was bleeding black. I thought it was the plague.” He laughs at the ridiculousness. “He told me, ‘Your sins will always leave a stain, boy. Can you do nothing right? Poor form. Poor form, indeed.’”
“Have you ever cut yourself when you’ve done something good?” I run the last stitch through and tie it off, biting through the thread to shorten it. “It would be interesting, wouldn’t it? To see what color you would bleed.”
His eyes catch mine. He gives me no words, but I still hear them. He’s never done something he would consider good. He’s never done anything he believes his father would approve of. He and I have that in common.
If I’m not careful, I might find myself craving the taste of the Captain on the back of my tongue. More and more and more.
“Don’t get into too much trouble,” he tells me. I smile at him with all my teeth. “But Captain, it’s what I’m good at.”
“We’ve been arrested.” “Yes.” “By the royal guard.” “Yes.” “I think this is one of the most precarious situations two men can find themselves in.” I smile wider. “Well not thee most.”
“If we’re to see the queen,” I ask as I pass, “do we really need the handcuffs?” “I’d say you need more than handcuffs, but I’m not in charge.” “I do love a good bondage party.”
The frown turns into gaping. I don’t gape. Not often. Sometimes maybe. Sometimes when I see something pretty I like and want to fuck or bite. Once upon a time, I wanted all from her. I wanted to fucking drown in her. I wanted her to make me forget.
Theo is only out for Theo and right now I’ve given him the impression that should he remain by my side, I will marry him and make him king. Even he must know that’s a shaky promise. After all, I married into the royal family, I was not born into it, and worse, I started out as their prisoner. It’s a miracle I got to this point.
My mother said I came out of the womb with eyes as bright as jade. My father would tell me, “Every time you looked at her, she would mark herself with an X to ward off evil.” He was boasting, of course. But that wasn’t how ten-year-old me took it. Ten-year-old me believed that the reason his mother threw herself off a cliff was because she couldn’t stand to exist beneath the gaze of her eldest son.
The Captain is used to bossing people around and I think the fact that I would rather eat rocks than be commanded makes him bratty. And a bratty Captain has me feeling feelings I’d rather not feel. Like the desire to throw him onto the bed and blow that frustration right off his face.
“Why don’t you seem worried?” he asks. “Worrying is for nuns and rabbits.” “What…what the bloody hell!” He lifts his arms and then lets them drop dramatically to his sides. “You are impossible.” “I think you mean impeccable.” “No I don’t!” “Perhaps impenetrable? No that’s not right either. I am definitely penetrable.” I give him a grin.
“And if we are walking into a trap?” I turn around and smile at him. “Oh Captain. You should know by now, crocodiles are very hard to catch.”
“I’ll be fine.” “It’s a black eye. People will talk.” I don’t bother reminding her that it will heal within the hour. It’s one more of those secrets we don’t talk about outright for fear of the truth of it.
I take her hand in my left, then cover her knuckles with my right. I don’t even have to think about it anymore — my power comes easily. The air takes on the smell of vetiver and wet moss and fresh cut flowers. Heat radiates out from both of my palms and Asha lets out a contented sigh.
Ultimately, this power saved my life not once, but twice. The first time from the end of a noose. The second time when King Hald made me a deal—heal him, become his wife, dedicate my power to him and only him, and he would make me queen.
Hald had given me something I had never known: safety and security. And so I agreed, lending him my power for decades and then some. Until one day my power no longer worked on him.
Even though Pan abandoned me on Everland, his motives mattered not. I had ties to him. So I was guilty by association. Hald told me I needed to erase every semblance of my past, including my name. And so Wendellyn was born.
I think it’s possible James and I are cut from the same type of fabric. Both fine fabric with delicate stitching and very specific uses. We are the type of fabric meant to drape, not form. I understand James.
have never understood Roc. He is like a summer storm blowing in out of nowhere, unpredictable in nature, at times violent and so darkly beautiful, it makes your eyes burn.
and passionate. By contrast, Roc’s touch was bruising and possessive. If I were a respectable girl, I would say I preferred James’s touch. But I am not. If pressed to choose, I couldn’t.
