The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(15)

Vane snorts and smoke comes out his nose. “Such a filthy mouth, Darling.”

“I don’t like it when you call me that.”

He looks up, his violet eye bright, rising to the challenge in my voice. “Why?”

“Because calling me Win is something the rest of them don’t.”

“You want us to be special, do you, Darling?”

Clearly I’ve made a calculated mistake. Because now he knows he can use it against me, to put me in my place.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I close the space between us and climb on his lap, straddling him. He exhales, his hand automatically going to the curve of my ass, even though he’s scowling like I’m inconveniencing him.

“Like it or not, we share the shadow, so yes, we are special.”

As far as anyone can tell, we’re the first to share a shadow. We’re on unprecedented ground.

I take the cigarette from his hand and reach over, stubbing it out in the closest ashtray. He lets me do it without complaint, both hands on my ass now. He’s putting a little pressure on me, driving me forward on his groin.

When I straighten again, I rock just slightly, letting him feel the full heat of my pussy. “Winnie is my name.”

“Yes,” he says.

“Darling is my name too, but it’s also a term of endearment. When I got to Neverland, it wasn’t that. I know Pan used it to put distance between us. ‘The Darling,’ he would say. No different than ‘the rug’ or ‘the door’ or ‘the ketchup bottle.’”

Vane snorts again so I rock my hips and he groans, his cock thickening beneath me. His fingers exert more pressure on my ass, keeping me in place now.

“You were the only one to ever use my name like you meant it.” I keep my gaze on his face, watching for any shift in his expression. I can’t feel that open thread between us now, and I think it’s because he’s trying very hard to shut it.

“You were so cruel to me when I first got here. You were the one trying harder than the others to put as much distance between us as you possibly could. But you were also the one who closed that distance by calling me by my name in a way that was more intimate than ever before.”

His expression softens. “Is that what you think, Darling?”

“It’s what I know.”

Suddenly he’s up, but his grip on me is strong and he gets beneath my ass, holding me upright as I wind my legs around his waist. He carries me down the hallway and into the library. He kicks the door shut with the toe of his boot.

I’m tiny in his grip, but I’ve never felt so damn safe. And a flame of grief catches me off guard as my brain goes to flight mode. It says, You can’t have anything good. And even if you do, it won’t last. This will end. He will see through you. They all will and you’ll wake up one day and realize you’re alone again.

“I got you, Win,” Vane says, and I know he’s tapped into that grief, can feel the gnarled hands of it.

“You don’t have to save me.”

I don’t want him to think me weak. I don’t want him or Pan or the twins to know that sometimes I’m afraid they’re just sand in my hands and that eventually the grains will sift through my fingers, no matter how hard I grip them.

Vane sets me on the edge of the nearest table. It’s dark in the room with the sun absent, but several glass sconces flicker with flame.

“Haven’t we already gone over this?” He leans into me, his arm tight around my waist as he nestles his body between my legs. “I don’t want to save you.”

“Then why do you keep reassuring me like I’m some weak little kitten?”

In one fluid motion, he rips off my shirt, wraps his hand around my throat, and drives me down on the table. “Go on, kitten. Save yourself then.”

Hah. Joke’s on him. Like I want to get out of this. He knows it and I know it and with the vein of shadow energy running between us now, I know he doesn’t want me to, either.

I reach down and unbutton my shorts. Vane keeps his hand around my throat, watching me with interest.

I shimmy out of my shorts and toss them aside, then I slip my finger into my panties and pull them up, forcing them to go tight against my pussy.

Vane’s gaze sinks between my legs as my clit throbs, fucking needy for his touch.

“You’re already soaked,” he says, eyeing the damp fabric.

“You’re no longer chasing me, and I’m no longer running.”

He growls deep in his throat and using his free hand, moves mine from my panties so he can take its place. With his knuckle against my skin, he follows the span of fabric between my legs, his knuckle grazing my wetness.

I jolt on the table from the pleasure that races through me, but Vane tightens his hold on my throat, forcing me in place.

He slips a finger inside of me, slow and deliberate, and my wetness makes a loud noise in the dim quiet.

Outside the library, the snow turns to ice and plinks against the glass. The wind hollows. I wrap my hand around Vane’s wrist, desperate to touch him as he touches me.

The shadow likes the connection, and an electric jolt runs through my veins. I’ve never been high before, but this must be close, like I’ve left my body behind and I’m nothing but raw pleasure and hot heat.

My breathing quickens. “Fuck me, Vane. Hard.”