One glance at her oppositional stance and he chuckled. “A little, wet mouse.” Flicking an invisible fleck of lint from his cuff, he closed the distance slowly. “Don’t strain yourself. Resistance, at this point, is futile.”
His low voice carved through the air between them, deep enough to leave scars. She stayed standing no matter how much she trembled.
“What’s your name, little mouse?”
“W—Wendy.”
“Wendy, what? When someone asks your name, give it to them in its entirety.”
“W-Wendy Moira Angela D-Darling.”
He glanced over his shoulder and raised a dark brow. He had the lean muscle and graceful confidence of a wild jungle cat. “Do you typically speak with a stammer, Wendy Moira Angela Darling?”
“No.”
He moved as though the air bent for him, as if everything in his path was under his command. Dragging a chair across the floor, the scraping sound rubbing her nerves raw, he let it wobble into place beside her. “Sit.”
She glanced at the chair, reluctant to give him the upper hand.
“When I give a command, you obey.”
Shaking like a leaf, she met his hard stare with challenge, refusing to follow his orders.
“Very well.” He swept his boot behind her ankle, tripping her off her feet. She fell into the chair. “I don’t repeat myself.”
She cowered under his hard stare, the heavy chains jangling as she situated her arms. He moved to the hearth and lit a fire, and she closed her eyes, grateful for the anticipated warmth.
After lighting several long candles about the cabin, he pulled another chair to the carpet and turned it to face her but didn’t sit. At the sideboard, he poured two glasses of blood-red wine.
“What brings you to the Never Lands, Wendy Moira Angela Darling?”
Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. “I came here with a friend.”
“Peter?”
“Yes.” She was surprised he knew Peter’s name.
“Are you sure he was only a friend?”
She’d been asking herself that same question all night. “I… thought he was a friend.”
“Speak clearly.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Was he your lover?”
Stunned by his bluntness, she shook her head.
“Are you lying? I despise liars, Ms. Darling.”
Her chin quivered. What if the truth got her punished? She didn’t know what he wanted to hear.
“I’m telling the truth.”