The Never King (Vicious Lost Boys, #1)

by Nikki St. Crowe

Bash’s pancakes are fluffy in the center, crispy on the edges. The syrup is sweet and the cloudberries—I thought my mom was making them up, but they’re so good. Like strawberries with a citrus tang to them.

“The Lost Boys are older than they look. And Pan is much, much older. Older than me. Whatever happened, it was before my time.” “But what does that mean? What happened?”

“Because Pan will be up soon,” Bash says to the door. “And he’ll want to see you.” A shiver rolls down my spine.

The guilt comes back. I never believed her. I should have.

I toss the sheets back and set my feet to the stone floor and it’s the chill that brings me back, tells me that I’m still in my body. I have flesh and bones, but still no fucking shadow.

When the sun can kill you and pirates are hunting you and your magic is fucking waning, all you have left are blades.

Two floors above me, I hear Bash tell the Darling to sit. She sits. If she’s a good girl, she’ll always do what we tell her. And I can be rather convincing.

I glance up at him. He’s leaning against my dresser looking like he was carved from war. I’m still not sure how I convinced him to join me and the Lost Boys but I’m glad I did. I need him by my side. Now more than ever.

“How is she?” I ask. Vane’s gaze darkens. “Prettier than the last.” “Not what I asked.” He sighs. “Bash made her pancakes. Kas was nice to her. She’s calm for now. Already asking too many questions. Cherry gave her too many answers.”

At the sink, I splash cold water on my face, try to drive the ache from my muscles. I am ancient. I shouldn’t ache. I’m running out of time. I can feel the island slipping from my grip.

Fucking Darlings. Fucking Tink. The rage simmers in my gut. I grit my teeth, close my eyes, summon a breath. This one will be the one. She fucking has to be.

“What?” I say. “Spit it out.” “Just let me kill Cherry. Let me send a message.” “No.” “Pan.”

“When’s the last time you chased someone, anyway? I can feel your shadow simmering. You got energy that needs to be spent. Do it before you take it out on the Darling. Do it for me.” He sighs again. “Fine. Fuck.” I give him a hard pat on the back. “Now let’s go get a drink.”

I can’t see the Darling yet, but I can feel her. We are a house of cold, hard edges. She’s already made it feel warmer and I’ve barely known soft or warm in my life.

The Lost Boys like to joke that I ran away from my mother the moment I was born. But if I am honest about it, I think the island birthed me. I have no memories before I woke up here shrouded in magic.

When I step through the doorway, the Darling’s eyes track me. She can’t help it. No one can. Even a king without a throne demands attention.

“This is Neverland,” I tell the Darling. “This place does not exist in your world.”

“How much you break is entirely up to you,” he says. “The more you fight it, the harder it’ll be.” I snort. “Right. There is no easy way. I remember.” He reaches out for me again. I dance away. “Darling,” he says. “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you back if I have to.”

I sit up, clear my throat and call out for Kas. And within minutes, his footsteps sound outside my bedroom door and my heart leaps into my throat. I’m going to fuck a Lost Boy.

I pull her closer. Her body shakes. I can just hear Bash in the back of my head—this is a very bad idea. But I know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t lose control like Vane and I sure as hell don’t indiscriminately fuck around like Bash. I can handle a weeping Darling without trying to fuck her.

“In your world,” I tell her, “I believe you might have called us fairies.” She laughs and the glimmering starlight plays across the line of her brow. “But I don’t believe in—

“Don’t say it.” She frowns. “Promise me you won’t.” She gives me a quick nod, so I pull my hand away. “Why not?” she asks. “You can’t say you don’t believe in—”

“Darling.” Her name is a growl and my heart is racing in my ears. “If you say it, I’m dead.” “What?” The question is another trill of laughter. “That can’t be true.” “Well, it is.”

“If you say those words, a fairy dies. It’s as simple as that. So promise me you won’t say it.” She resettles on the bed. “I promise.” I lie back down beside her. “If you’re a fairy, where are your wings?” “I lost them.” The admission is soaked in sorrow and filled with rage.

“You said that in my world, you’d be called a fairy. What do they call you here?” “Fae is a better word.”

“And Pan?” the Darling asks. “Is not fae.” “So what is he?” I’ve dug myself too far. The starlight on the ceiling flickers and fades. “Not my story to tell, Darling.”

“What about your tattoos?” She reaches across the space between us and traces a finger down one of the curved lines of my markings. “Do they mean something?” “They did, once.” “And now?” “Now they are just a reminder.”

To the fae, the tattoos are a mark of rank and order. Bash and I were supposed to be significant. Now we’re a cautionary tale. Her hand trails down my chest, down my stomach, and my abs constrict. I’m suddenly fucking harder than stone.

I snatch her wrist. “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “I know what you’re doing.” “And what’s that?”

“You’re trying to cause tension in the group. You’re not the first to think you’re smarter than us. You’re not, Darling. Whatever strategy you think you’re plotting, we’ve seen it before. We’ve watched every move play out, and all of the Darlings...

I bury my hand in her hair and shove down her throat. She gags. Tears fill her eyes. The others watch as I fuck her mouth, brutally, mercilessly. She takes it. Every inch. And the whole time, I can’t help but imagine it’s the Darling’s lips wrapped around my cock.

I am entranced by him, by the thrusting of his hips and the glint of the moonlight on his dark hair, the straight dark lines of his tattoos and— My bedroom door bangs open. A dark figure stalks in, grabs my chain and yanks me back. I lose my footing, stumble. Bash catches me and wraps a hand around my throat.

Channeling my inner Starla, I reach between us and grope Bash and his nostrils flare as a rumble sounds deep in his chest. I stroke him through his pants. “Darling,” he says, “you’re playing with fire.” “Am I?”

When I feel the heat of his cock, the head swells and I drag my thumb over the slit. “Fuck it,” he says and spins us around, sitting himself on the edge of the bed, me on his lap. He has himself out before I can take a breath and then he’s tearing my panties aside and shoving into me.

“Bounce on my cock, Darling,” he orders and the triumph nearly escapes me in a high-pitched squeal. I seat my knees on the bed, wrap my arms around him and slide him out, then back in. His grip is hard on my hips, driving me down on him. “Fuck. This is a bad idea.” “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Fuck, Darling. Fucking hell. Pan is going to kill me.” He yanks down the collar of my dress, pulls my breast out and captures my nipple in his mouth. He bites at me. I yelp and jolt against him, but he tightens his hold on me. Rocking my clit against him, my pleasure builds.

I’m fucking a Lost Boy.

I feel Peter Pan before I see him. And when he walks in the room, Bash immediately goes still beneath me. I see the flick of a lighter first, the flame dancing in the darkness, burning the end of the cigarette in his mouth.

When he exhales smoke, he says, “Don’t stop on my account.” He comes into the room, sitting in the wingback chair behind me. Bash exhales, almost a sigh. He’s still hard, still buried in me, but he doesn’t move. “Go on,” Pan says. “Fuck her.” “Pan…I didn’t—” “Fuck her, Bash. Do it now.”

My clit throbs, desperate for friction and I rock forward, grinding against Bash, sliding down the length of him. “Fuck, Darling. Just like that.” He grows harder inside of me. “Fuck. Fuck, yes.”

I pull up the hem of my skirt. There’s a dark, wet mark on my panties, both from my pussy and Bash’s cum. Pan can’t help but look down between my legs. His jaw flexes as he hunches closer. I pull my panties aside and slide my fingers down my wet slit, dip a fingertip inside of me.

I’m like a kid let loose at a county fair and I want to ride all the rides and play all the games. What do I really have to lose? Yesterday I didn’t think any of this was real. Maybe it’s not.

I sink in the chair, spread my legs further and pick up the pace. I was already primed to come before Pan yanked me away. I’m already this close. I fight the urge to close my eyes and sink into the searing heat. I want to see him when I come.

His gaze dips to my pussy as I work at my clit. He’s so hungry. The searing heat between my legs nearly consumes me as his nostrils flare. Peter Pan was a myth and now he’s real and he’s drinking in the sight of me like I’m a mirage.

As I descend into the pleasure, Pan’s hand slides up my thigh and gooseflesh erupts on my skin. Touch me, I think. Touch me.

Pan pulls his fingers out of me and then shoves them into my mouth. My eyes pop open. I can taste the sweetness of my juices and the tang of cum. “Clean them off.” I run my tongue down the length of his fingers as he commands. His eyes narrow.

“What’s that taste like?” he asks, then sets his jaw hard as he waits for me to answer. “I…I don’t know.” “Trouble,” he tells me. “Filthy little Darling whore.” His words ignite something in me. “Oh fuck,” I say around a moan. “Yes.”

Pan grips me roughly by the jaw and forces me to look at him as sweat coats my forehead, my chest, as the breath wheezes out of me. Fury has sharpened the planes of his face. “We don’t fuck Darlings,” he tells me. “Stop fucking around or you will regret it.” And then he leaves me, soaking wet and dirty in the chair.

“What’s got you looking like murder?” I sigh. “Bash fucked the Darling.” And then I stuck my fingers inside of her.

“Christ.” Vane leans against the railing, crosses his arms over his chest. “And you?” he asks. I darken my gaze. “What about me?” “I can smell her on you. I’m not a fucking idiot.” “I taught her a lesson.” “You teach yourself one too?”