The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(34)

We weren’t in that house long, but that secret attic space became my haven for the rest of the fall. I even stole a battery-operated lantern from the dollar store and a blanket from a neighbor’s laundry line and made myself the coziest little reading corner.

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that I’ve yet to see all of Peter Pan’s treehouse. In fact, I’m kinda excited about the prospect now.

“Show me,” I tell Pan.

His bright blue eyes are distant again, but he blinks back to focus at my command and grabs the bottle of bourbon. “This way.”





We go down the hallway that leads to the library and his tomb. I know there’s a hidden staircase beyond his tomb entrance that leads up into a sitting room. We go there first and Pan reaches his fingers behind a bookcase and something internally clicks. He yanks on the bookcase and it slides open on a system of hinges and wheels to reveal a curving stairwell made of stone, with small, circular windows set into the walls so that the bluish light of the snowy night fills the space with a diffused glow.

“Oh my god. This is incredible.” I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from squealing.

“Darling likes secret rooms?” Bash raises his brow. “Let’s put that on the list for the next palace we build her.”

Wouldn’t that be a dream? We’re all a little drunk so I’m not going to hold him to it.

“Who goes first?” I ask them.

“Go on, Darling,” Pan says, the barest hint of amusement lifting the corner of his wicked mouth.

And thinking about his mouth being wicked makes my insides clench up with excitement.

“She’s already thinking about getting fucked,” Vane says.

“Hey! Quit reading my mind.”

“Wait, you can read each other’s minds?” Bash asks.

“No,” I answer and take the first step up. “But the shadow casts our emotions back to one another. And Vane is particularly good at reading mine.”

“What is the Dark One feeling right now?” Bash asks, leaning his shoulder into the stone wall at the entrance.

I look at Vane again, standing at the back beside Pan, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression practically daring me to read him.

He’s closed up again, as usual, bastard.

To Bash I say, “Have you ever seen a kid at a carnival, when they’re sitting on a bench devouring a giant cone of cotton candy? And they’re a little sticky and ravenous and giddy with excitement?”

“Of course,” Bash says.

“That’s Vane right now.”

Kas tries to hide his laughter, but it comes out anyway and Vane scowls at him.

“Darling,” Vane says, narrowing his eyes, “I will make you pay for that smart mouth of yours.”

“Ohhhhh,” Bash says. “Let me tie her up first so you can have your way with her.”

Immediately, no questions asked, I’m fucking dripping.

Why do these boys have such a hold over me? Why does my body immediately puddle every single time they promise to treat me like a dirty whore?

I’m going to pretend like there is no more warfare quietly building on the horizon, and I’m going to let them treat me like a whore so that all I feel is pleasure and the frenzy of being used by men who love me enough to know exactly what I want and need, and how I need it.

“Let’s go,” I say and follow the curving stairs up and up into the shadows.





20





WINNIE


Kas is immediately by my side when I stumble into the secret room. There is more light here than I expected, but not knowing what I’m walking into makes me hesitate.

The stone stairs end on a wood floor and I gaze up at the ceiling, immediately swaying from the shock of what I see.

“Oh my god,” I breathe out. The entire ceiling is a dome of glass with a honeycomb of iron between panes.

The sky is still shrouded by cloud cover and I’m disappointed not to see the ceiling breakaway to twilight sky.

It must be amazing when the night is clear.

Lanterns are lit around the room and Kas clears away the dust and debris in a fireplace made of patched stones, cemented into place with gray mud.

I turn a circle, trying to take it all in. The room is more than a bedroom. There are stairs that follow the curve of one wall that stop at a platform where another giant window curves out like a bubble. From there, a short rope bridge goes to another platform where several pillows line the floor with a telescope set in front of them.

Another set of stairs go up to a nook lined with bookshelves, the shelves full of leather-bound volumes. And then lastly, one more set of stairs go up to a massive circular platform, with a spindled railing.

That platform is so high up I can’t see what’s on it, but it’s closest to the domed ceiling, half beneath it, and I wonder if it’s where the bed is.

“Light a fire,” Pan orders as he wraps his arms around me, drawing me into his heat.

Kas is already on it, crouched in front of the fireplace stacking up kindling and wood from the box beside the hearth. Vane hands him his lighter and within just a few minutes, the fire is crackling.

I turn a circle on the threadbare rug on the floor, hungry for more details of Peter Pan’s life.