Page 29 of The Last Lost Girl

“You’ve never called your lovers the same thing?” I tease.

His eyes darken. “Are you implying you’d like the position, Precious? I’m not sure you have the constitution for it.”

Something deep in my belly warms, and I try to douse it before the fire spreads any further. “I wasn’t volunteering,” I tell him, then notice the slight he dealt. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He sizes me up. “You remind me of the Second Star. A bright, glittering beacon. Just look at your eyes... they aren’t jaded in the least.”

I fight the urge to swallow. “If I’m the Second Star, what does that make you?”

“I’m the darkness that surrounds it. The reason it must burn. The night that smothers it,” he says.

My heart beats harder. It reverberates in my chest, my ears. And the strangest feeling screams within me… I’ve dealt with shadows all my life. You can’t possibly scare me.

“You’re using me as a beacon for Pan, aren’t you? Using me as bait.”

He pushes up from the desk and stalks toward me. I scoot back on the bed until my back bumps against the wall behind me. The dress I’m in rubs the warped glass and makes a squeaking noise. The pain in my ankle is dull now thanks to the salve when I hold my foot out to keep him away – the same way I did to Wraith – for all the good it did me.

Hook sits beside me and draws my feet across his lap in a flash. The silver tip of his hook catches on the dress at my thigh and holds it tight to my skin without biting into the fabric. I swallow thickly. If his hand was intact, his fingers would be digging into my skin – not painfully, but possessively.

His stare drops to my lips. “Precious, you were bait the moment you landed on Neverland’s shore. And until you tell me how that came to be, bait you will remain.”

“I told you I don’t know,” I rasp.

He smiles. “You’re lying. And if you won’t tell me the truth about how you got here or who you’re trying so hard to protect, I have no choice but to assume it’s Pan.”

“If I was protecting Pan, why wouldn’t I have gone willingly with Wraith?” I volley.

I don’t want to think of the encounter with the deranged boy who called me family and knew my name, but I need to know more about Pan.

“I’m still trying to figure that out, and why he thought you should know him, and why he thought you might somehow save him – from me. Don’t think I missed that. He was practically begging you for help.”

“How is Wraith…?” My words fall away like Wraith’s body did when Hook released him.

“Alive?” His brows raise.

I nod.

“Pan,” is his reply.

“I don’t understand,” I breathe.

Hook watches my chest rise and fall; he sees the fear and confusion I can’t keep from my expression. Then his thumb brushes the skin of my leg just above Smee’s wrapping, as if the heartless pirate is trying to comfort me.

When my gaze drops to his hand, he carefully moves my feet onto the bed beside him. He stands, walks to the door, and braces his hand and hook atop its frame. The breeze rattling his bloodstained shirt is warm and briny.

“The best piece of advice I was ever given is to never underestimate Pan or the influence he has on everything and everyone on that cursed island.”

My ears catch on what he did not say…

“Pan only has influence on the island and the things on it? Not on people or things in or on the sea?” I clarify. “Is that what you meant when you were talking to Smee?”

Hook smirks. “That’s right.”

“And I suppose next you’ll tell me not to underestimate you or the influence you have on everything and everyone on the water?” I tease.

Over his shoulder, he stares at me for a long moment. “You remind me of someone.”

Goosebumps pebble my skin. “Who?”

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