Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)(18)

“And which appetite would that be?” Her expression has turned devious.

“Temper your horniness, princess. Or it’s bound to get you in trouble.”

“I suspect the moment I met you, Roc, I was in trouble.”

I crack another nut. “You aren’t wrong.”

The large, arched doors at the entrance to the palace clank open.

I toss another shell, then return the peanuts to my pocket as the fae queen comes out to greet us.

She is clearly trying to rival Giselle for being the most ravishing royal in a dress that hugs her curves, but doesn’t take away from the beauty of her wings. Hers are a shimmering gossamer with a sensuous curve on the forewing, and a sharp turn on the hindwing.

Unlike Giselle, however, she’s chosen a necklace with a single emerald pendant.

I can’t help but think this was on purpose. As if to say she doesn’t need to glitter with jewels to prove her significance.

It’s always interesting to me to watch how women in places of authority portray themselves, especially when faced with opposition.

Women fascinate me. They are almost always underestimated, which makes them potentially some of the most lethal opponents.

Like walking up to a jungle cat thinking you’re going to give its head a gentle little pat and instead it bites off your whole goddamn arm.

That’s what women in power are like.

Usually.

Sometimes they’re just spoiled brats.

“Your Majesty,” Giselle says and gives the fae queen a shallow bow. “How good of you to invite us here and into your home.”

“I’m glad you could make it.” Her wings go still and her eyes find me behind the royals.

“Crocodile.” She takes a breath and her tits swell at the plunging neckline of her dress. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Holt’s upper lip curls.

“Likewise.”

She waits, hands clasped behind her back.

I know what she’s waiting for.

In current company, I’m the only non-royal here.

“Don’t just stand there,” Holt says. “Bow to the queen.”

The fae queen lifts an eyebrow.

I know they all think that this is some kind of degradation, the royals putting the peasant in his place. But I fall easily to my knees.

The fae queen is pleased with this, as if by bowing to her, I’ve relinquished something. People like the queen don’t realize that by giving them what they want, I take something in turn.

Pride is most everyone’s greatest weakness. That and fucking. I’ve watched grown men lose their minds over a hole.

I lose my mind over just two things: blood and unshelled peanuts.

Satisfied that I’ve done my duty of being obedient, the queen says, “Rise,” and then, “Come with me.”





The queen leads us to the throne room.

It’s domed and partially below ground. Vines are webbed over the ceiling where lanterns hang from wrought iron chains, the insides glowing with fae magic.

Neverland is vibrant with it. Even more so than when I visited the island last.

A servant—a brownie wearing leather boots and a hat with a brim that curls like an ocean wave, pours us wine into goblets and hands them off.

Holt sniffs his but doesn’t drink. He probably thinks its poisoned or hallucinogenic. I’ve heard the stories about faerie wine. Never stopped me from gorging myself on it.

I take a long drink to show the fae queen I half trust her. If she wants to poison me, I’m not sure why she would have gone to all this trouble of bringing me here. But if that is her plan, I guess I respect her for it.

“Your Majesty, Queen Tilly,” I say, “you promised me secrets. We’re all waiting with bated breath.”

“Yes, of course. But first I need to know that you’ll help me defeat Peter Pan.”

“Defeat him?” Giselle doesn’t bother to hide her incredulity.

“It can be done,” the fae queen argues.

“Debatable,” I say and circle the room.

“Peter Pan has no bearing on us,” Holt says. “Why would we make him an enemy?”

“Because Peter Pan will defend Vane to his last breath. Which means if you want your shadow back, you’ll have to deal with Pan in one way or another.”

Giselle and Holt turn dour. They knew this was a possibility. Even if Vane wasn’t loyal to Peter Pan, Pan would still have a hard time letting anyone come on his island and start taking power away from it.

I drain my glass and suddenly the brownie is there refilling me. I could get used to this.

“What do you propose?” Amara asks. She’s hovering by her sister’s side. She may be least likely to rule, but sometimes she does tend to cram her head up Giselle’s ass to get on her good side.

The fae queen sets her glass down and folds her hands in front of her. I notice she didn’t touch the wine.

Smart girl. Best to keep a clear head when dealing with a Crocodile.

“Peter Pan has two weaknesses,” the queen says. “Vane and his Darling.”

I come to a stop, a sudden chill crawling up my spine. “There’s a new Darling on the island?”

The fae queen regards me with a look that feels like a secret. “Wendy’s great-great granddaughter.”