The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(33)

He cuts his gaze to me, and the weight of it is nearly stifling. I light a cigarette and take a hit, waiting for him to speak his mind.

When he doesn’t, I offer him the cigarette and he fills his lungs with a draw from the burning tobacco, then exhales in a sigh.

“Tinker Bell will tell you whatever it is she thinks will wound you deepest,” he finally says.

Bash comes to a halt up ahead and Darling climbs on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. Their laughter echoes through the woods.

“Christ,” Kas says as his brother races away with Darling like they’re two kids on a playground.

“And what if she told me the truth?” I say to Vane as he passes the cigarette back.

“Tell it to me and let me decide for myself.”

Up ahead, Bash spins Darling around and what’s left of her dress lifts like a flower petal. She laughs, clutching to Bash tightly. Kas jogs ahead to join them, unable to stop his own laughter.

The snow slows, but the stars are still hidden behind thick cloud cover, and I don’t think I’ve ever missed them more.

Living only in the twilight for so long, they became my constant companions, glowing in the dark, guiding me through the night.

Vane stops me in the middle of the path where it rises up hill to the treehouse.

There may be no moonlight, no stars, but there is a distant glow from the lanterns outside the treehouse and it sends shadows across his face, turning his annoyance into sharper darkness.

“Tinker Bell coming back from the dead is not a punishment,” he tells me.

I sigh, the cigarette burning up, clipped between my knuckles.

“Listen to me for once, for Christ’s sake. Sometimes shitty things happen just because. Sometimes there is no reason and no one to blame, least of all yourself.”

“I know, Vane, and sometimes bad people do bad things and they must pay for their misdeeds.”

The spirits’ words haunt me again.

Vane’s expression falls. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. The Dark One has done many dark things.

It’s why we’re both so fucking desperate to lose ourselves in Darling.

She is a balm and when we are with her, our past transgressions fade away, and the sting of old wounds hurts just a little less.

“Come on.” I drop the cigarette and crush it beneath my boot, coaxing him toward the house. “Let’s fuck our Darling whore until she squirms in our arms.”

He knows there is nothing left to say.

He takes in a breath, shoulders leveling out, and follows me up the hill.





19





WINNIE


The house is freezing when we come inside and my breath puffs out in front of me. I tighten Vane’s jacket around my shoulders and the smell of him—crushed amber and rainy summer nights—makes me feel warm and cozy.

In the foyer, the twins start up the staircase to the loft, so I follow behind with Vane beside me.

Pan hangs back, a deep frown on his face.

Vane stops on a step, hand on the banister. “What is it?” he asks Pan.

Pan shakes out of his thought. “I haven’t seen the Lost Boys in a while. It’s quiet.”

The twins reach the upper level. Bash says he’ll make a fire while Kas decides to pop open another bottle of fairy wine.

“They’re probably in town fucking around,” Vane says.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Pan follows us up and when we gather in the loft, the twins are already filling glasses from an uncorked bottle of wine, a fire flickering on the hearth.

“To celebrate,” Bash says.

Vane snorts. “For what?”

“Fucking Darling’s pussy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Pan says and takes one of the glasses on offer.

“I suppose I will too,” I say and snatch a glass. I drink it back in several gulps. If I’m not careful, I could easily become an alcoholic drinking fairy wine. It warms my belly and leaves behind a sweet boldness on my tongue that makes my eyes water a little and my head feel swimmy.

But I’m still shivering.

“It’s going to take too long to heat this room,” Kas says.

The loft is one big open room, with the Never Tree on one end, and the dining room and balcony on the other, and the kitchen on the other side through two huge doorways.

“The library?” I suggest.

“I have a better idea.” Bash nods at Pan. “When’s the last time you went up to your old room?”

Pan is at the bar, one elbow propped on its top. He’s since passed the wine and has gone on to the bourbon. “A very long time,” he admits.

“Wait…where is Pan’s old room? Have I seen it? Is it the room where you found the magical shell from the lagoon?”

“Up another floor,” he answers and slings back a swill of liquor.

It’s not out of the ordinary, for me to live in a house for a while only to realize there were rooms and nooks and crevices I hadn’t yet discovered.

My mom once rented a house that had a closet that followed the roofline of the house. On first glance, it just looked like a black hole to the far wall, where the roof pitched. But I took a flashlight back there once and found a little door just around the corner that led into an attic that had been boarded up.