Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys, #3)

by Nikki St. Crowe

I have not fucked Holt. Holt hates my fucking guts. Sometimes I fantasize about liberating him from his.

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.

“’The lagoon gives and it takes.’”

“I’ve missed the light and I’ve missed the warmth, but both pale in comparison to you, Darling.”

“In the light, I will treat you like a queen, but in the dark, you will be my whore.”

“Shove your cock inside of her,” Pan goes on, dragging the tip of his nose up the side of my neck so his next words are a warm breath on the sensitive flesh of my ear. “And when she’s screaming your name, I’ll shove my cock in her mouth to shut her up.”

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

If I am endlessly fascinated by women, I was in total awe of Wendy Darling.

“Christ, Captain,” he says, his voice stilted. “If you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”