Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys, #3)

by Nikki St. Crowe

It was always meant to be Vane. We will all have her, but Vane might get a part of her that the rest of us can never see.

And yet we still hunger for permanence and substance, something solid beneath our feet that we can call our own. Something we can belong to. The word love comes to mind. To love and be loved. To cling to something, not because you are afraid, but because you are happy.

He scowls at me. It makes his eyes disappear, his nose turn up. I wonder what face he would make if I cut off his fingers and jammed them up his ass.

Women fascinate me. They are almost always underestimated, which makes them potentially some of the most lethal opponents.

I linger in the sight of his firm stomach and the tightly compacted muscle.

Yooooo is Hook gay?

One night, in late November, a very long time ago, our father caught me in the stables with one of the servants.

Female or male lol

And I often suspect that what remains of my early memories is only half truth. It’s like a reflection on water, stretched on ripples, a bit unrecognizable.

I shove through the men, heart hammering in my ears, and leap off the cliff’s edge. The wind rushes up, freezing the air in my throat. Vane is falling and falling, his back to the ocean below. “Don’t,” he mouths. It reminds me of the same warning he gave me back at the lagoon before he finally gave in to me. When he told me not to run. When he tried to save me from himself. But I don’t need saving. Not then and not now. Is he worth it? the shadow asks. Worth it and more, I tell it.

Out of one frying pan and into another. That used to be my mother’s favorite saying when I was a boy.

The lagoon’s waters grow choppy. The fae queen steps back and shields her eyes with her arm. The clouds churn. Thunder rumbles overhead and the bright, swirling light of the lagoon flickers out as something dark emerges from the water. The fae queen sucks in a breath and stumbles back so quickly, her feet get tangled beneath her and she slams to the sand. The wolf and the mouse look at one another. This is how it begins. And how it will end.

Sigh. Bet its tinkerbell

All of her is glowing. From her bright, shining face, to her bright golden wings. Pixie dust glitters in the air around her. “Hello, Peter Pan,” Tinker Bell says.

Called it!