Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)
Nikki St. Crowe
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not be possible without the help of several readers.
We can all agree that in the original Peter and Wendy, the depiction of Native characters was extremely problematic. When I set out to do a Peter Pan retelling, it was important to me to keep the Native presence on the island, but it was of the utmost importance that it be done in the right way.
I have to thank several sensitivity readers for helping me portray the twins and their family stories in the Vicious Lost Boys series in a way that was accurate and respectful to the Native culture, even if the twins reside in a fantasy world.
So a huge thank you to Cassandra Hinojosa, DeLane Chapman, Kylee Hoffman, and Holly Senn. You were and continue to be extremely helpful and I appreciate you so much!
I would also like to thank Brianna for her invaluable feedback and guidance on the portrayal of the character of Samira “Smee” in Their Vicious Darling. Thank you, Bri, for your time, energy, and feedback!
Any mistakes or inaccuracies that remain in this book are entirely my own.
BEFORE YOU READ
The Vicious Lost Boys Series is a dark romantic reimagining of Peter and Wendy. All characters have been aged up and are 18 and over. This is not a children’s book and the characters are not children.
Some of the content in this book may be triggering for some readers. If you’d like to learn more about CWs in Nikki’s work, please visit her website:
https://www.nikkistcrowe.com/content-warnings
To all the girls who were ever afraid to embrace their dark side.
“Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”
J. M. BARRIE
PROLOGUE
THE CROCODILE “ROC”
My preferred way to travel is with a royal family. Any will do.
Because royal families always travel in luxury.
The Darkland royals are no different—they’re one of the richest in the Seven Isles and they spare no expense. But they’re shit for travel companions. Unless I’m fucking them. Then they’re all right.
Amara Remaldi, Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Gordall, youngest princess of the Remaldi family, finds me in the portside dining room.
“There you are,” she says as she comes over.
I crack open a peanut shell, empty the contents into my mouth then toss the shell into a nearby ashtray.
She is excited to have found me, apparently. I can hear it in the upward lilt of her voice.
I suppose being buried nearly balls deep in her last night might have something to do with it. When she came for me, she quivered like a leaf.
Amara may be a princess but she likes being dominated and I like to make royals beg.
Keeps me looking young.
I crack another shell, then break the peanut between my sharp incisors. Amara winces.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Giselle and Holt wonder if you’ll join us for dinner.” She stops a few feet from me and clasps her hands behind her back. She’s wearing the Remaldi black velvet with the rearing lion embroidered in gold on the breast of her tunic. She’s more soldier than princess preferring violence over politics, but she’s never seen a battlefield in her life.
There is a long sword at her waist. The hilt is encrusted in cabochon rubies, making it nearly impossible to wield on a good day.
The weapon is for show, a blatant display of wealth.
It says, I’m so rich, I can make swords I don’t use glitter and gleam.
“Your sister just wants me to bend her over and pull her hair and make her feel like a dirty little whore.” I abandon the peanuts and light a cigarette, then spread my arms out over the back of the ornate settee that is bolted to the ship’s floor. The portside dining hall is only used on special occasions, but I’m special every day.
“Will you?” Amara asks me.
“Pull your sister’s hair?”
She clucks her tongue. She’s jealous of me fucking others at court. “No. Come to dinner.”
I sigh and lean my head against the back of the settee. “I would prefer not to.”
“Roc.” Her voice purrs on the R.
“Yes?”
She comes over to me and climbs on my lap, straddling me. I can feel the heat between her legs. The leather of her brand new boots groans as she settles in around my thighs. “Come to dinner, please.”
Pretty princesses asking please.
There is nothing quite so pleasing.
Amara has the family’s blond hair, but hers is curly. She keeps it straightened though, and pinned back most of the time to keep the rumors of her parentage at bay.
No one in the Remaldi family has curly hair.
But her father’s Captain of the Guard did.
And there were definitely rumors of the captain having an affair with the Crowned Queen.
I take another hit from the cigarette. Amara’s eyes sink to my mouth, to the way my lips pull on the paper. I let the smoke cloud out a second later, before I quickly suck it back in.
A little breath escapes her and she rocks against me, grinding her clit against my crotch.
But I’m in no mood.
Not when Neverland is drawing closer and my hour of need closer still.