Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)(14)

7





PETER PAN


Darling slumps and Vane scoops her up easily, cradling her against his chest.

I nudge her beneath the chin and call her name, but she’s out cold.

“Something is wrong,” Vane tells me, his eyes black and his voice rumbling.

“I can fucking see that.”

“Where the fuck is Cherry? Something happened while we were at Hook’s.”

“Give her to me.”

Vane’s scowl deepens. “Fuck off.” He turns his body, holding Darling away from me.

“Now you’re being a possessive prick? Not that long ago, you were telling her to fuck off.”

He frowns at me. “Is a man not allowed to change his mind?”

The twins’ laughter wends into the loft as they enter in through the kitchen. They’re telling a story about their grandmother and her cloudberry syrup recipe.

“Boys,” I call.

They come into the loft and look between all three of us still standing there naked.

Bash’s mouth drops open. “You had a fuck party and didn’t wait for us to come home?”

Kas comes to Darling still draped over Vane’s arms and pushes the damp hair from her eyes. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We don’t know,” Vane says. “She just passed out.”

“Get her to the couch,” Kas orders.

We don’t typically follow the orders of banished princes, but Kas knows a thing or two about mortal ailments that he learned from his grandmother.

Vane takes Darling around to the couch and gently lays her in the corner. Kas grabs one of the pillows and tucks it beneath Darling’s knees, then takes a second and puts it beneath her feet, propping her legs up.

He rests his ear to her chest.

I can hear her heart beating without the nearness. The steady thump-thump.

Her breathing is fine too.

In fact, everything I can hear and sense and see of her tells me she’s fine.

“Is she sick?” Bash asks and sits on the edge of the low table in the center of the room.

“No one gets sick on Neverland.” I crouch beside Darling and scan her face.

“Darling isn’t technically from Neverland though,” Bash points out. He has a handful of picked cloudberries and he pops one in his mouth. “Maybe we should take her to her mortal realm.”

I sit beside him on the table and steal one of the berries from his hand. “She’s not leaving my sight.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

The longer she’s unconscious, the worse I feel. I could pretend we fucked her into fainting, our fragile Darling girl. But she’s not waking up.

What the fuck is happening?

Nails click on the hardwood floor and a second later, the wolf is back. He looks up at me with what is, I swear to fucking god, a disapproving glare.

“You can fuck off too,” I tell him.

He turns away from me and hops up on the couch, nestling into Darling’s side.

“Pan,” Vane coaxes.

“Yes, I know.” I run my hand through my hair, considering my options as new heaviness sinks in my chest. Once upon a time, before I lost my shadow, I could alter anything on Neverland. I could make things appear out of thin air.

But heal someone? Far more complicated, not as reliable, and never worth the risk.

My gut twists as the seconds tick by in my head and Darling still doesn’t wake.

I could try to heal her if I knew what the fuck was wrong with her. I don’t sense anything and that’s the problem.

In fact…there is an odd sort of stillness to her. Even before I had my shadow, I could sense the hum of her nearness, the warmth of her presence.

And now, she’s just quiet.

I hate desperation.

I hate asking for help even more.

But I’m not just going to sit on my ass and hope for the best.

Not where Darling is concerned.

I look up at Vane. “Go get Smee,” I tell him. “And hurry.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t hesitate. He’s dressed and gone in seconds.

It’s hard to ignore the fast thump of his heart.

Vane is just as anxious as I am.





8





BASH


While we wait for the Dark One to return with the pirate, Peter Pan paces the loft and I busy myself in the kitchen even if our dysfunctional family breakfast is now up in the air.

Keeping my hands occupied is just the distraction I need. I’ve always loved being in the kitchen. It’s about the only thing I inherited from my mother, though she never actually loved it.

When she was lecturing Kas and I about our duties and our roles as crowned princes of the fae court, she would remind us of where she came from and the sacrifices she made to get to where she was.

And when she would find me in the kitchen helping the staff measure and pour and stir for an upcoming dinner, she would practically pop a rib.

There may have been common fae blood in her veins, but she wanted to pretend that working with our hands was now beneath us.

Nani was queen long before Tinker Bell was and Nani worked with her hands until the day she died.

“You worried about Darling?” Kas asks as he pulls himself up on the counter behind me.