His smirk is back, but this time it does things to me. Bad things. Things I’ll never admit. Why is he like this?
“We’ll see.” He grips my wrist and pulls my fist up, then he brings it to his mouth.
“Hey!” I try to wrench it away, but he’s far stronger, and he grips my other wrist to hold me in place. He bites my thumb knuckle. Not hard, not enough to hurt. But he doesn’t have to hurt me physically to make me shudder. His lips against my skin, the feel of his teeth—they do that just fine on their own, no pain necessary.
He drags his lips across the knuckle then lowers my hand. “You have to pull your thumb out of the fist, lass. If you hit a man with it tucked inside your fingers, you could break it.” He releases my other hand and pulls my thumb free, then places it along the outside of my fist. “Like this. Hit a man square on the jaw, and you might have a chance to knock him flat, but I’ll warn you, it’ll hurt if you do it right.”
My traitorous tongue darts to my lips.
He follows the movement, his pupils widening. “In fact, there’s plenty that can hurt when you do it right.”
“Thanks for the lesson.” I want to murder my breathy voice. “Now please fuck off.”
He backs up a step. “Effective cussing is a lesson for another day.” Turning on his heel, he strides toward the door.
Did … did he just imply I’m not creative withwords?
“I’ll have you know I could cuss circles around anyone.” What the hell am I saying? No, I certainly can’t. He’s asailor, for heaven’s sake.
“We’ll see,” he says with the smug, infuriating tone. “After the meeting.” He closes the door behind him, but I don’t hear him walk away.
I creep over to the door and listen.
“Lock it, lass.” His voice vibrates through the wood.
I flip the lock and flip him off, even though he can’t see me.
He walks away with a chuckle, and then I hear his boots on the stairs.
That settles it. If he’s coming for me after the meeting, then I have to get the hell out of here before it’s over. I can’t risk falling into his hands again, not when I know he has zero qualms about killing.
I return to the window and peer out at the rowboat. Despite the acid churning in my stomach, I know it’s the only way off this cay that doesn’t end with me at Hook’s mercy. My decision is already made.
I go to my bed and start winding up the sheets to make a rope. I’m halfway done when yelling breaks out downstairs, and I’m lowering it out the window when a shot is fired, followed by a scream, a curse, and the sound of a bottle smashing.
Damn pirates.
Chapter
Six
By the time I lower myself to the ground along the side of the house, my arms are shaking, and I’m drenched in sweat. I have to sit down and rest my head in my hands for a short while until the blood stops roaring in my ears.
All right, so I’m not 100 percent, but I have to keep going. If Blackbeard discovers I’ve escaped, there’s no telling what will happen to me. And Iknowwhat will happen if Hook finds me. That gets me up, my knees wobbling and my injury aching.
Sally flutters past and shoots through the trees to the pier beyond. She seems to know my intentions as she hunkers down on the pier as if to wait for me.
The pirates are still arguing inside, but I can only catch words here and there—many of them deeply profane. But there is a fair amount of “Peter” and a smattering of “boon.” I want to know what the hell that means, but I intend to ask Peter. And if he doesn’t give me a straight answer, I don’t know what I’ll do. He’s the touchstone I’ve been trying to hold onto ever since I got to Neverland, but if he’s as untrustworthy as everyone else on the island … Then maybe I’m well and truly lost.
“Don’t think like that,” I mutter to myself and lean against the house as I make my way through the sandy soil. Barefoot and still wearing a white nightgown, maybe I can pretend to be a ghost if someone spots me. That makes me smile. At least I can still amuse myself, right?
The house is a large, white-washed mansion with a wide porch. Noise and harsh laughter spill from the glassless windows, and the most sound seems to be concentrated toward the front of the house—the side that just happens to be facing the pier.
“Now friends—” A gruff, familiar voice booms over the noise. “And enemies—I’m looking at you, Calico Jack?—”
The pirates laugh as Blackbeard continues, “I feel that we’re all in agreement as to what to do about this crisis. Neverland’s instability is spreading, and it’s only a matter of time before all our ports of call are under the same dark cloud. The sun never rises over this cay any longer, and now Atlantis and the Triangle are threatened. That’s why I’ve gathered the captains, the pirate kings and queens of the sea, here, and it’s worked. We have a plan. We have Peter’s boon?—”
“I’d like to take a look at her, Blackbeard. Bring her out. I want her to dance for me,” a woman calls, and several of the other pirates yell their agreement.
