Page 67 of The Last Lost Girl

Sensing my distress, Hudson carefully said my name. Without thinking, I pressed my shaking hands around my middle and blurted, “I’m scared.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t his curt response of, “Good.”

His little retort was wholly unhelpful, and I let him know it. “You don’t have to be a callous asshole.”

He flashed a devastating grin. “If you weren’t scared, you wouldn’t be as careful as you need to be on Neverland. Because of your fear, you’ll be diligent with your movements, watchful of your surroundings, and focused on finding Belle,” he pointed out. “And you’re not the only one who is afraid. Every man you just watched leave my ship is afraid each time they go ashore.”

“What about you?” I asked as we were pushed over the breakers, holding onto the boat’s sides to keep from being tossed from it.

“Of course I am. My life changed drastically upon this sand.” He held up his hook.

I deflated, because I realized that I was the callous asshole. Not him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being honest with me about the way you feel,” he said. His piercing green eyes held mine. “Never apologize to anyone for that.”

The skiff glided into the shallows and Hook jumped into the water, then reached for me. He took my hand and quietly, we disappeared into the island’s shadowless flora. Once we were nestled within the trees, we stopped so I could slip back into my shoes.

As we were about to take off again, I got a strange feeling. A chill washed over me despite the heat. Hook didn’t seem to sense anything strange, but… I couldn’t help but feel that something was very wrong.

I glided my hands beneath a broad leaf, and despite the sunlight, there wasn’t a shadow to be found on Neverland. When Hudson noticed what I was doing, his brows met and he scowled at the plant.

A terrible, disturbing thought struck me when we entered the very island she’d warned me away from so many times.

When she returned, did Belle accidentally steal all the shadows in this place?

twenty-five

The flat landscape gradually begins to roll. We climb up and down knolls, then hills, then steep, tall mountains teeming with life. From stinging insects the length of my thumb that buzz up to large nests they’ve hung from tree limbs to millipedes that race up the sides of tree trunks.

Forearm-large lizards warm themselves in the sunny spots on fallen, moss-blanketed trees or watch us from the branches where they’ve climbed. Darting here and there are little rodents that look equal parts rabbit and mouse.

One tracks us for a time, hopping alongside me. A brief hiss from Hudson sends it scurrying away.

“Was that necessary?” I whisper.

He spins on his heel and looms over me. I crane my head back as he asks, “Are you fond of your flesh?”

My lashes flutter. “Um… yes?”

“So are they.”

He scours our surroundings and then gives me his broad back again. For spite, I imagine one of those little guys biting a chunk out of his ass, but that only makes me think of his physique, which makes me stare at his butt. Which is something anyone would do if they walked behind him.

Hudson is a literal hot pirate. Absolute book boyfriend material. He’s… complex, a shade darker than morally gray, and yet, he’s gorgeous. No one could deny that. I bet even Pan thinks so.

He turns to look at me as he adjusts the bag strung across his shoulders and my eyes snap up to his. A flush warms my cheeks as I pray he didn’t catch me ogling his.

When we’re almost to the bottom of a rocky side of one of the mountains that jut up in the island’s middle, I step on a thin, flat rock that slides under my weight and ride that thing down the backs of its friends Tony Hawk style, until it decides we’ve had enough fun for one afternoon and stops abruptly.

As I soar face first through the air, Newton’s first law of motion comes to mind, and I curse inertia as my hands fly out and try to catch me. The result is a thudding crash and a muffled grunt of pain.

Hudson drops to his knees beside me. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I grump.

His eyes light with amusement and he stands and offers me his hand.

As I’m dusting myself off, I notice him staring at my bright red shoes. We forgot to camouflage them.

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