Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)(26)

“Yes.”

“And what is that?”

“Another island.”

“There are seven, right?”

“There are.” I take another drink. There is likely no way I will ever be drunk again. The shadow won’t allow it and I suppose it’s just as well, but I will enjoy the burn just the same.

“What are the others besides Neverland and Winterland?” Darling asks.

“Winterland and Summerland are on opposite ends of the island chain. Between them is Darkland, Vane’s homeland. Neverland. Pleasureland—”

Darling chokes on her second drink of my glass.

“Lostland and Everland.”

“Did you say Pleasureland?”

“I did.”

“But…how?”

“It is a place where all your pleasure fantasies come true.”

“I need to go there.”

“You absolutely do not.”

She frowns up at me and pushes out her puffy bottom lip. “Why not?”

“Because it is a wild and reckless place and addictive like a drug. You go to Pleasureland, you don’t come back from it.”

Darling lets that sink in.

“I still can’t believe any of this is real. When my mom told me about you and the Lost Boys growing up, I thought it was a story she read in a book. Now I’m in an alternate realm fucking a myth about to be served tomato syrup.”

My hand immediately goes to her thigh and I push up her dress to feel the warm flesh between her legs. “Fucking a myth? I think the myth is fucking you.”

She snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I smile at her. She is a fucking delight.

Her food comes out fresh and steaming. The French fries, as she calls them, are golden brown and glisten from the oil and salt. The sandwich—burger—sits between two slices of homemade bread and the rich tomato sauce drips from it.

“Oh god. This looks amazing.” Darling pulls the plate closer and tests a matchstick that she runs through the pool of sauce on the side. The fried potato crunches between her teeth and I know the instant the tomato syrup hits her taste buds because her eyes pop open.

“See?” I can’t help myself.

“Wow.” She swallows and grabs another and looks at the server still standing there waiting for a dismissal. “Really, wow. Thank you…”

“Darlina.”

Darling stops chewing.

“Sorry,” the server says. “Maybe that’s weird? It’s a popular name on Neverland.”

If it was, I didn’t know. Then again, I’m so far removed from what life is on my island.

“Nice to meet you, Darlina,” Darling says. “And thank you for this delicious meal.”

The server dips down like she means to curtsy and then thinks better of it. “My pleasure,” she says and then darts away.

“Darlina?” Darling whispers to me. “They’ve adopted a name like my surname?”

“The Darling stories go back generations,” I tell her. “I’m not surprised.”

“But I thought we were your villain or whatever?”

“No, Darling.” I steal one of her fries. “I am the villain here.”





14





ROC


Peter Pan and his Darling are nowhere to be found and my patience is growing thin.

Behind the house, a party is well underway. Plenty of Lost Boys and girls drinking and carousing. I would join them if it hadn’t been years and years since I saw my baby brother.

He pours us each a drink at the bar in the loft. He doesn’t ask what I want, but I’m sure he remembers I prefer bourbon.

Time may have stretched between us, but there are some things brothers never forget.

He brings the glass over to me and sits in the leather chair across from the couch where I’m lounging in the crook.

The loft is quiet. The twins disappeared with Cherry as soon as I arrived.

I suppose my reputation precedes me. The twins were not with Pan last I was here. They came much later.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I tell Vane.

He takes a healthy drink of his liquor and barely winces as it burns down his throat.

“Whatever your plan is,” Vane says, “I won’t let you see it through.”

I smile at him and try not to let the irritation reach my eyes. My baby brother has changed and I’m not entirely sure by how much.

A pinch? A mile? A fucking cavern’s length?

“Let me ask you a question.” I sit forward and prop my elbows on my knees. “If it came down to choosing between Peter Pan and me, who would you choose?”

“If it came down to it, why would you make me?”

Something sinister glitters in his black eye. I vividly recall him flailing beneath me as I tried to tend to the wound. I remember the paleness of his skin, the hollowness of his cheeks, and the very real fear that he wouldn’t survive.

He and I are not like most men. But even special men are sometimes no match for a shadow.

“Did you know?” I ask him.

The quiet grows loud.

“Did you, Vane?”

“I only just found out.” He drains the rest of the glass and sets it down hard on the table between us. “And don’t pretend you were slighted. You barely knew Wendy.”