“But you know her story?”
I shrug noncommittally. “I know a family legend. Which is probably why I’m stuck in this weird-as-all-hell dream. The family legend, plus the bad hotdog, plus too much work, and boom, I’m in Neverland with a grown-up Peter Pan and some Lost Boys who look like they’ve been living in their moms’ basements for way too long.”
He smirks and steps toward me. “So youdoknow about Wendy.”
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m alone in a cave with a half-naked man who’s easily a foot taller than me. Still, I hold my ground. “I know she spun some yarn about flying to Neverland with a perpetual boy named Peter Pan. She met a bunch of other boys, pretended to be their mother, and eventually had to fight for her life with Captain Hook.”
His face sours at the mention. “That’s all correct. Wendy came when she was a child. We had such good times. And then, after that, she came to do my spring cleaning every year until … Hmmm.” He looks up. “Until I don’t remember why.”
“Sexist much?” I mutter under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shrug and try another tack. “If this isn’t a dream, and I’m really in Neverland, and you’re Peter Pan, then why are you old?” I wince at my words. “I mean, you’re notoldold. You still look really—” I stop myself. “You’re not a boy, and neither are the Lost Boys. That doesn’t track with my family legend. Not to mention, I haven’t seen any fairies. In Wendy’s story, fairies were everywhere.”
“I can explain all that.”
“Then go right ahead. I’ve got time.” I glance around at the stone walls. “Nowhere to go, either.”
He grimaces. “Could you at least tell us a story first?”
I glare up at him. “I’m not having sex with?—”
He steps forward and grips my upper arms, his touch warm and firm. “This isn’t about that, Moira.”
His scent fills my nose, and his wide chest is right in front of me, golden and chiseled. Something deep in my gut seems to twist, and I have to force my gaze back to his brown eyes, sparkling even in the dark. No, Wendy’s storydefinitelydid not include this version of Peter Pan in it.
“Oh, well, good then.” I step back, away from his touch. “Because, like I said,no.”
He laughs a little. “To be honest, none of us even knew about any of that until we started aging.”
“But now you know about …” I’m not shy, but suddenly I am.
His pupils flare, his gaze on me with a steadiness that makes my knees go a little weak. “About sex?” He glances at my mouth. “I don’t accept acorns and thimbles when what I really want is akiss, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The way he says ‘kiss’ is utterly obscene, filthy enough to need a good scrubbing with scalding hot water. So, naturally, it makes some inner part of me melt into a puddle while the rational part of me scolds the crap out of it.
His gaze returns to my lips for a moment. “How about you?”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight. “My love life is none of your business.” A weak retort, but it’s all I have.
“Mmm.” He gives me a long look. “It’s a different feeling, isn’t it? Being that close to someone. That intimate. I never intended to know what it was like. I wanted to be a child forever. That was my heart’s only dream, but the island had other ideas. Now, everything’s different. I sometimes catch my boys making bargains with Tink in exchange for fairy dust so they can fly to the mainland in search of …” He makes ahmmmnoise, clearly trying to choose the right word. He finally settles on “company.”
“Tinker Bell, the fairy? Where is she?”
He cuts his eyes to the side. “She’s around.”
Okay, so therearefairies. But that still doesn’t explain why they aren’t boys anymore.
“Take me home. If fairy dust makes you fly.” I keep myself from rolling my eyes at the absurdity of my statement, though, if I’m being fair, he already showed me it’s true. Hecanfly. “Then fly me back to my dorm room.”
“Can’t do that.” He shakes his head.
I throw my hands up. “Why not?”
“It’s not safe. I told you, the pirates will come for you.”
“Why?”
