Page 50 of Veiled in Stars and Silver
He let out a slow breath that brushed my hair. “Every day.”
“What happened to them?”
“When I acquired the stone and found I could leave Neverland, the first thing I did was try to find them. But they’d died a long time ago. I searched the local records of the town I’d lived in. My wife never remarried. Turns out, she became a healer woman. Arabella had always been strong-headed and capable. She’d learned a bit of the healing arts growing up from her grandmother. She must have done well for herself because both she and my daughter lived extended lives.” He sighed. “But that changes nothing. I failed them.”
I thought about not being able to return and see loved ones because of a single mistake. And now it was too late. Years and years too late.
“I can’t fail the people of Neverland, Wendy,” he said. “Whatever they were running from, they deserve to go back if they want. They deserve to be liberated.”
My brows scrunched. “And how are you going to be free? If you take on the power of Neverland through the dagger, you have to stay.”
A silence spanned between us before he finally said, “You and I both know there is always a price you pay to save those you love.”
When I was a child, I had thought Peter was brave, even honorable because he punished the bad and stood for the good. But there was something different about James's version of bravery and nobility. It was complicated, merciful. Beautiful.
He shifted. His warm fingers moved across my abdomen in a gentle massage. The metal of his hook left a cold trail down the outside of my thigh. A heat gathered in my core. I was suddenly aware ofevery part of him shoved against me. His muscular chest against my shoulder blades, his legs that had somehow become tangled in mine. His hips pressing unforgivingly into my backside.
His breath brushed across the back of my neck, followed by a touch of wetness as he caressed my skin with his lips. He descended inch by inch, trailing kisses down to my shoulders. My eyes shut, enjoying every moment of the tender sensation.
“Wendy,” he whispered, and I sensed the question in his voice. I rolled my body against him in response, my hips grinding against him, and he hummed in answer.
His hand didn't stop there. His fingers roved over my skin, tracing the outline of each of my ribs, moving steadily upwards. Slowly, his hook traveled to my inner thigh, leaving a cold path. Any moment he could rip into me, shred me from end to end, and I'd be completely helpless. I moved against him again, my breaths becoming shallow.
“I thought you were going to be a gentleman,” I murmured.
“What can I say?” he said, a wicked edge to his voice. “I am a black-hearted rapscallion.”
His fingers brushed the underside of my breast.
I gasped, an unexpected pulsing starting between my legs. “You’re a dark-souled braggart.”
His hook dragged up the inside of my thigh.
“A yellow-bellied codfish.” He grabbed my breast and squeezed.
My back arched, a moan ripping from my lips. “An unscrupulous scoundrel.” My voice was so breathy I barely understood myself.
He fondled my breast, then the other, his experienced fingers kneading, brushing, tugging. Every agitation claimed me forhimself. “A rotten, no-good build’s rat.” He sounded low and sensual in my ear.
“Jas.”
The sound of his harsh growl was so sudden and consuming, it sent my heart skittering.
He shoved the rounded part of his hook between my legs. The coldness pressing into my heat caused a small cry to rip from me. And then he began to move—rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. I couldn’t get enough air. I’d never experienced anything like this, never known anything could be this consuming, this demanding. My hips rolled, and he moved the smooth metal over my apex in time with my movements.
“Call me that again,” James’s voice had become so dark, I barely recognized it.
I gulped air. “Jas.”
His hips rolled with mine but all I knew was the wetness pouring out of me, of the cold hook warming between my legs, spreading that wetness, of the pulsing that had given way to a desperate throbbing.
James’s voice was depraved in my ear. “Are you a virgin, Wendy?”
A moan escaped as we rocked together under the covers. “Yes.”
His hook pressed even harder, and I released a whimper of pleasure.Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”
