Page 62 of Veiled in Stars and Silver
Eventually, the bleeding stopped, and the skin of her hand began to heal over. The tightness in Hook’s body finally relaxed.
The finger was gone for good. There was nothing to be done about that. But at least the pain and bleeding wouldn’t be a problem. Wendy no longer trembled and her gaze cleared as color returned to her cheeks. She held up her healed hand and examined it.
“I feel it,” she whispered. “Like it's still there.”
“The first few weeks, after losing my hand, I’d go about trying to do things as I had done until I learned I had to adjust. Even now, every once in a while, I swear a lost finger will ache or fall asleep, or I’ll get an itch in the middle of my non-existent palm.”
She pressed her lips and nodded. Not pitying. Accepting.
“Stay here. I’ll fetch you some water.”
He returned a few moments later, having retrieved a pitcher of water from their stores below deck. He’d already washed his hand and hook of her blood. Wendy observed him as he moved across his scattered belongings. He flipped over the still-intact washing basin before grabbing the small towel nearby and handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She knelt and filled the basin.
He watched as she sank her hands into the wetness. She was risking so much for him.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
She turned, drying off on the towel, an eyebrow raised. “Why did I save your life?”
“You have the knife, you knew where the book was, you could have gone on to stop Pan and rescue your brothers by yourself. Hell, you could have found someone else willing to take on Neverland’s power. You didn’t need me.”
A small smile came to her lips. Standing, she dropped the towel and took a step toward him. “You really don’t enjoy being in debt to a woman, do you?”
“Not true. I’ve been in debt to many a woman.” Though, admittedly, he’d never owed one a life debt.
She stepped closer. Even if by some miracle they defeated Pan and the Crocodile let them go free, Wendy’s finger would remain as lost as his hand. A mixture of emotions roiled through him. Anger, guilt, sorrow.
Reverence.
She drifted even closer. “You think that after everything we’ve been through, I’d let her take you?”
“You could have.”
She stopped right in front of him. Her fine blonde hair was windswept from their flight, her pale cheeks peaked from her encounter with the Crocodile. He recalled how she looked, standing between him and certain torturous death, knives pulled, jaw set, the mist whipping at her dress, eyes blazing with determination. His whole body thrummed to life at the memory. She’d never been more beautiful than in that moment.
Because Wendy Darling was a warrior.
The fingers of her injured hand wrapped around his hook, and she lifted it to her soft red lips. She met his gaze with such a fierceness, a heat erupted inside his skin at the sight of it.
“I refuse to lose anyone else that I love,” she said.
The words were electric, shooting through Hook’s very being. This beautiful, determined woman thought him worthy of her love?
He moved his hook, tracing over her jawline. Her green eyes flickered, darkening like the sea during a storm.
“You love me, Wendy Darling?” He ever so gently dragged the tip down her throat.
She lifted her chin, her neck arching. “Yes.”
Her soft skin, her scent, the unabashed arousal on her face. Her every reaction to him made his need more urgent.
His hook dipped into her dress, between her breasts. He gave a sharp tug on the fabric, pulling her against him. Reaching down, he grasped her thigh, hiking her leg up to his hip. He held her there, feeling her erratic breaths, her heart pounding in her chest, the softness between her legs.
He thrust his hips. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she slid with him on his next thrust, that spot between her legs grinding against him. His good hand reached around to grab her ass, shoving her closer. He felt her through his trousers and he groaned. Bloody hell. She knew the right moves to drive him mad.
“Are you sure you're a virgin?” he murmured, hisvoice low and strained.
