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You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it. J.M BARRIE, PETER PAN
NevAirLand. If you can dream it, we can fly you there.
if he were anyone else, I would thank him for the reminder right before I cut out his tongue.
“I’ll be seeing you, Wendy, darling.”
The Lost Boys, as the newspapers have affectionately labeled us, run wild and free.
There’s something strangely gratifying about becoming someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. A type of thrill that can’t be replicated. One that courses through your insides and makes you feel untouchable. Infallible. Like a god.
He smiles. “I don’t have to do anything.” His hand moves up and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. The gesture is soft, gentle, and butterflies erupt in my stomach. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of, darling.”
The hint of danger stretches out like tentacles and suctions to my skin like a dark caress.
my forty-three-meter sailing yacht sits. The Tiger Lily.
my live-in crew member, Smee, set up dinner. I smile, pleased with the result of his work.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and my thumb reaches up to release it. “Tell me you’re mine, Wendy darling.” “I’m yours,” she breathes.
“This is Tina Belle. My assistant.”
I assume, after all, it’s trauma of some type that has her clinging so quickly.
“You never need permission to touch me, darling.” He sits forward, pressing his mouth to mine, suckling my bottom lip before pulling back. “I’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”
But I’m worse than any of the wild things that live in these woods, and I’ll hunt down everyone involved like prey, bathing in their blood and dancing to their screams until they repent for their sins.
The icy tendrils of fear snake up my spine, coiling like vines around my body and squeezing tighter with every breath.
But the rose-colored glasses were stripped off my face in a millisecond, leaving nothing but shades of gray behind.
“Just remember, that whenever things feel bleak, all situations are temporary. It’s not your circumstance that determines your worth, it’s how you rise from the ashes after everything burns.”
The kiss is anything but sweet. It’s twisted and toxic, a poison masked in sugar, making you love the taste of death.
“You want to watch the world burn?” “Let me guess, you’ll set it on fire?” I ask. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me and settling into my bones. “No, darling. I’ll hand you the match and stand at your back, watching you become queen of the ashes.”
And to think, it all started with a little bit of faith. Misplaced trust. Missing pixie dust. And a villain who just needed to steal a little love.
