Page 89 of Freeing Hook

Is that what we are?

“Vor says you visited him tonight?”

I shift uncomfortably. “He told?”

“He always tells.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

If the captain means to rebuke me, he must relent, because he quickly bounces to another topic. “Did you have trouble sleeping before?”

I raise a brow. “There are a few events that might demand the use of abefore. You’re going to have to be a tad more specific.”

For a moment, he says nothing, and I can’t help but wonder which event is playing through his mind. If he’s imagining the bloody death of his wife, or perhaps the murder of my parents, or the night he kidnapped me from the beach in Neverland. Perhaps Peter assaulting me in the Carlisles’ home.

“No, you’re right,” he says, sighing. “I think I’d rather not.”

I can’t describe why, but my heart deflates a bit.

“Wendy,” he says.

“Captain.”

Something akin to hurt flashes in his eyes. “Are we not on a first-name basis?”

“Perhaps if I knew your first name.” The lie just slips out, but I watch his face and posture for tells. A twitch of the brow. A flick of his ears. A bulging in his jaw.

Anything to know I can affect him a fraction of how much he’s capable of hurting me.

I’d been on a high after he backed my plan to use my shadow soothing to our advantage. Over and over I’d replayed his reaction to my boldness in my mind—the subtle pride as he’d stared at me. I’d felt so connected to him, for once rowing in the same direction.

My recollections had been innocent in nature, starting with his look of pride tonight and progressing to mentally compiling every subtle compliment he’s ever paid me, but going no further. Innocent, I’d repeated to myself as I’d wrapped his praise around my heart like a child wrapping the twine of a kite around her finger.

The thoughts themselves were pure, wholesome.

It was the frequency of them, the saturation of them that had soon soiled my daydreaming with guilt. And now that he’s in front of me, all beautiful arrogance, I can’t help but let him needle his way underneath my skin.

Astor narrows his eyes, his gaze unfocused. Like he’s sifting through a box of memories, sure he’ll find the evidence he needs. “I introduced myself the night of the masquerade. And Maddox is known to call me by my given name on occasion.”

I shrug, hiding my hands inside my pockets lest their twitching give away my deceit. I’m not sure why I’m lying. Captain Nolan Astor was how he’d introduced himself at the ball to Lord Credence. I’d remember his voice anywhere, the way it fit his name perfectly.

And yet.

“Well, what is it then?”

Astor stares me down, like he’s trying to find some evidence of a lie. A joke. He must not find what he’s looking for in my face because he says, “You’re right. Captain’s my preferred, anyway.”

I let out a quiet huff. It’s more scorn than I meant. “You are so stubborn.”

He quirks a brow. “Am I?”

I place my hands on my hips, trying to keep my balance on the side. “You’re not going to tell me your name, all because I hurt your feelings by not hanging on your every word.”

“I assure you that you have no such ability, Darling.”

I flit my hand in the air. “Yes, yes.” I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight, but I do my best impression of the captain, dipping my voice as low as I can get it until it sounds gravelly enough to leave a scratch. “Hurting my feelings is a right reserved for one person alone.” The captain tenses, but I’m sleep-deprived and annoyed and tasting the bitter lack of faerie dust on my tongue. “Oh, and I almost forgot, ‘And you,Darling, will never be that person.’” I offer him a smile that feels unfamiliar and cruel on my lips. “Did I get it right, Captain?”

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