Another groan, low and masculine and so damn sexy. My nipples go hard, my body coiling again as I listen with bated breath. He’s … doing the same. He’s doing it where he knows I can hear every single word that falls from his lips. I’m on fire, I’m lit up like a sparkler, fizzing and popping and burning into oblivion.
Then I hear a deep grunt, one that sizzles through my veins, and after that, Hook’s voice rasping and taut. “Moira. Ah fuck, Moira. That’s my good lass. Take it all.”
Chapter
Fifteen
Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger, comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right.
“You have almost as much hair as I do, but not quite.” Widow pins my brown locks away from my face in loose, draping waves.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I look sort of …” I wince. “Shriveled.” God, that sounded worse out loud than it did in my head, and it already sounded pretty damn horrid.
“It’s not as bad as you think.” She tuts. “I got hexed several years back. Turned my nose three sizes too large, my mouth two sizes too small, and don’t get me started about the damage down below.”
My mouth drops open. “You can’t be serious.” I stare at her in the mirror of her cottage. It’s a cozy little house with a warm fire and a few touches here and there—like the intense cutlass collection on the wall—that are completely Widow’s personality.
“Serious. That’s what I got for sleeping with a witch’s man. Of course, I didn’t know he was spoken for when I was astride him.” She shrugs. “I was all messed up after that witch got ahold of me, I can tell you that.”
“How’d you get back to normal?”
“Oh, that part wasn’t too difficult.” She pins another lock of my hair. “I told the witch the truth—that the lout had tricked both of us.”
“So, she undid the spell?”
“Not right away.” She leans down and looks into my eyes. “First we needed a blood sacrifice.”
“Whaaa?”
“Leonard wasn’t the same after that. He was missing a couple of pieces, but his singing voice became quite high and lovely.” She gives me a wicked grin. “Then I was back to my old self.” She turns her head so her profile is reflected. “Though sometimes I think my nose is a hair larger than it used to be.”
“It’s perfect,” I say.
She fusses with my hair a bit more. “All that to say, plenty of folks have had ailments like yours. Magical or whatnot. Doesn’t mean they can’t be reversed.”
“At the Fairy Village?”
“Could be. I’ve never been there, but I’m quite happy we’re going straight to it when we shove off.”
“Why? Aren’t all the fairies dead?”
“All dead?” She scoffs. “Who told you that?”
I don’t even have to say it. She answers her own question with a sour look. “Peter. That little whoreson will say anything, won’t he?”
I want to rub my face, but that’ll ruin the little touches of color she’s put on my cheeks. “I guess I just assumed it was the truth since I haven’t seen any fairies except Tinker Bell.”
Her face sours even more. “I’ve heard nary a good word about that little beastie.”
“You have no idea.”
“We should have a girls’ night once we’re back at sea. You can tell me everything that slimy ponce Peter told you, and I can tell you what percentage of it is utter bollocks.”
“Deal.” I look down, my heart stinging with a memory, still mourning the last friend I made and lost.
“Coy?” Widow already knows somehow.
“Yeah.”
