“They’re lucky I listen to you,” James said, once they reunited with each other. It was just the two of them, meeting in the brig after releasing the lost boys with specific tasks they needed to do around the ship. James believed a task saved a mind on long stretches out at sea. Plus, these boys looked like they needed discipline, and James was the man to give it to them.
“They’re good boys,” Magda pointed out, and even she knew how completely unlike her the words were.
James turned back, shutting the door behind them so the room was filled with just the two f them, and they received enough privacy where they could speak openly without worry about any eavesdroppers.
Before Magda realized what was happening, James pulled Magda into his arms, always wary of his hook and its placement on her person. Magda relaxed into the hug almost immediately, and she felt a smile touch her features before she could stop herself. She wasn’t normally this emotive. Possibly her time with Nick was the cause for this. However, she found she liked it and did not try and force herself to be the way she once was.
“I’ve missed you, Magda,” he murmured in her hair, resting his cheek on the top of her head. Just being around James made her feel small, that she was someone who needed protecting. Perhaps that was why she was insistent on learning to defend herself in multiple ways. Because even around James, she wanted to ensure she felt capable.
When he pulled back and released her from his grasp, his lips were curled into a rare Hook smile, and his eyes were as clear as the sky was shaping up to be, after that storm. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, and she blinked, waiting for him to start hiding it from her. When he did not, her own lips curled up and she realized that he was becoming more emotive than either of them thought was possible as well.
“I see you’re in one piece,” a voice commented from the now-opened door, his voice strong. Nick’s eyes looked at her full figure, but she did not feel violated. He was just checking to make sure there was no injury on her person, nothing out of the ordinary. “There was no doubt in my mind that you would be. No one is a match for you.”
Magda was proud that she did not blush at his compliments.
“Perhaps not,” she agreed. “You look well.”
And he did. Nick had always been handsome. That had not changed since the first time she saw him until now. He had shaggy brown hair cut short in the back but long enough in the front where it would fall into his eyes. His skin was a bronze given to him by the sun, and his body possessed more muscles than she thought a human body had the capacity for. His eyes were dark brown, warm in the sunlight, dangerous when he was angry, but perceptive no matter what. His nose was long, and added depth to his face, and when he smiled, it caused a swirl of butterflies to start flapping their wings so fast, Magda had to clutch something lest she want to lose her balance.
Even now, with Remy gone and forced to take shelter on James Hook’s ship, Nick looked like he could take on anything. His tunic and pantaloons still fit him perfectly – he did not need that belt wrapped around his waist, and Magda thought he wore it for decoration purposes. He looked like someone she would have underestimated – and she had – but he was more than a handsome man without a brain. He might not be the most intelligent man she knew – that was James – but he was clever, and his charm helped him get whatever he wanted.
He was the last person she ever expected to fall in love with, but here she was, in love with Nick Grey, pirate and Neverland ferry. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it if she had not already accepted it.
“That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me,” Nick said, shooting her one of his patented grins and crossing his arms over his chest. She noticed his eyes softened as they took in her form, and her heart tightened because she knew – she knew – how he felt about her in that simple glance.
“Yes, well.” She looked away, her cheeks pinched with redness because she did not know how to react to it. To him. To his look and his feelings. Her fingers started flexing and curling into a ball on their own accord – back and forth, back and forth – until she had to lock both hands together to stop herself.
“You look beautiful,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he knew what effect he was having on her because she refused to look at him just yet. James was being uncharacteristically quiet. “Comfortable. Confident.”
“I grew up here,” she said, finally daring to meet his eyes. It was easier when they discussed something safe, something that would not get those butterflies flapping, that would not cause her heart to lose track of its beat. “I learned everything I know here. And The Other World.” She shrugged.
Nick cocked his head to the side, causing bits of hair to dance just above his eyelids. “Would you say this is your home?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Home.
What an odd word with a variety of meaning. She thought her home was with the fairies, but after her mother traded her to James, she refused to look back and even dwell on anyone from the Fey Realm – everyone save for her sister. It was not her sister’s fault. Then, spending so much time with James led her to believe that wherever he was, she was home. Now that she had been away from him for so long, she was able to understand that she had so much of her identity tied up to another person. When James first instructed her to part ways with him and distract Nick from going after Remy, she did not know what to do or how to be. She listened to him – blindly – as she always did, but she felt confused and unsure, things she was not known for.
Being with Nick changed all of that. She started learning about herself, who she was, what she felt. It amazed her to know that she was not as hard and as unforgiving as she initially believed. Perhaps that was the person she was forced to be due to circumstance, but circumstances were always changing, and that did not mean she had to remain the same person she once was.
Now, she did not think she had a place she could genuinely look at as her home. And that was okay.
She gave him a small smile. “I have no home,” she told him. “I go wherever the wind takes me and adapt where I must.”
“Excuse me,” James said, his tone dry. “Considering people walk in on shut doors, I shall take my leave and look to my new, lost crew.”
Nick’s smile curled up, but it did not quite reach his eyes. “You’re good at adapting,” he said, looking away. He clenched his jaw, looked away. “What happened between us” –
“Nothing happened between us,” Magda corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. This was not the way she intended the conversation to go, and the odd look on Nick’s face just added to her worry. “I told you I love you, you said I ruined everything. Then you said you had something to tell me, but I thought, it almost seemed as though” –
“I love you,” Nick said. “I have a lot of stuff I need to sort out.”
Magda furrowed her brow. “Like what?” she asked. “Either you love someone or you don’t.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it,” Nick said. “For the longest time, I thought I loved Remy, but now I know that’s not the case. Do you know how difficult that is for me to understand? I don’t want to ruin anything between us. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” she asked, furrowing her brow. “How would you hurt me?”
“You remember Esmeralda?” he asked. “How she told me I have a type of girl I seem to find myself attracted to? Remy falls into that category. You don’t. And I need to sort that out within myself because being with a girl like you is different than being with a girl like Remy. I know how to be with Remy, I don’t know how to be with you.”
Magda felt herself clench her teeth together. She knew he was trying his best to explain things, but he was doing a terrible job of it. If he didn’t say anything that would help explain things, she would walk away before she said anything stupid.
“This isn’t coming out right, is it?” Nick asked, after a moment. Begrudgingly, Magda had to admit he looked genuinely sorry f
or it.
Magda shook her head.
“It’s just, I don’t want to mess this up with you,” Nick said. “But I feel I will, because I have no idea what I’m doing with you.”
“I don’t either, Nick,” Magda pointed out. “You must know, you’re the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ve ever made an effort to be with. I thought I’d be alone for the rest of my life, and I was fine with it. But you ruined everything. I’m still willing to try and figure this out with you.”
Nick shook his head. “Everyone I care about ends up getting stolen from me, I’m afraid,” he said, and his voice took on a darker tone. “I can’t have you getting taken, either. I’ve been broken before, but if anything happened to you, it would ruin me.”
“I don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “First, I’m not the sort of girl you’re used to. Now you’re afraid something will happen to me just because I’m with you.” She felt her temper start to rise, and she curled her fingers into tight balls in hopes of controlling herself. “It sounds like you’re looking for excuses not to be with me.”
“That’s not it at all,” Nick said quickly, his brown eyes big and imploring. Magda forced herself to look away from him, lest she get swept up in those irises she could never say no to.
“Then what is it, Nick?” Magda asked. “Because right now, more than anything, it sounds as though you’re afraid to be with someone who actually cares about you. Loving girls like Remy are easy because you know they don’t feel the same way in return. You can love them from afar. But that isn’t love. Do you want to know what that is? Do you want to know what you are?” She pressed her brows up, wrinkling her forehead to make a point. “You’re a coward. And I will not waste my time or my love on a coward.”
With that, she left Nick to digest her words before she gave in and ran back to him.
Three
Her lips were soft – he knew they would be soft. James had memorized Remy’s lips the minute he first saw her, and every time his eyes rested on her face, they would immediately drop to those lips because they had no other choice. The tip of her small, upturned nose tickled the side of his nose, causing it to wrinkle, and she giggled, a gentle sound that reminded him of bells in the wind.
Currently, Remy sat on James’s lap. He was lying on his bed, with his feet resting on the floor. She straddled him in a very unladylike position, both of her small hands on either side of his head, trapping him, pinning him underneath her weight – which was nothing. She weighed nothing, though she did apply adequate pressure on his pelvis as she sat on it, completely unaware of the sensations she stirred within him, beneath his cold exterior.
“Why do you look so serious, my love?” she asked, her voice genuine, free from any ulterior motives. He did not remember anyone being genuinely concerned for him save for Magda, though Magda never referred to him with an endearment. “Your face tends to wrinkle when you are serious, and though it does not detract from your perfection, you know it makes me worry.”
Love. She had called him love. How easy it was for her to reveal what she really felt, what she really thought, without worrying about the consequences. He envied her for how free and fearless she was, but those were the two things he loved about her the most.
Because he loved her as well, but he was too much of a coward to admit it. She knew he loved her, he made sure that he showed her every day, but saying the words out loud, even when he was by himself, was something he currently struggled with, and he was not sure if he would be able to overcome it. And that scared him the most because what if something happened to her before he could ever tell her what he truly felt. That she was the first woman to claim his heart, and she had not even tried. That he would die for her over and over again just to ensure her safety. That he felt absolutely wretched inside because she was gone. She was gone and he could not get her back.
But here, here he could hold onto her for a little bit longer. He was free to touch her body, fill his hand with her curves. Even in his dream, he had his hook. It was as much a part of him now than it had ever been. His right hand was firm and possessive, his hook on her skin danced dangerously between a caress and a threat. But Remy preferred it that way, he knew. Judging by the way her colorful eyes darkened feeling the cool material on her skin, the way her breath hitched when she felt how cool it was. Goosebumps even littered the surrounding flesh.
She could not help herself from that moment, and she leaned to him so their lips touched in what began as a soft kiss. James was not known for soft kisses. He liked them fast and to the point, a means to an end. Remy, this dream of Remy, had taught him that there was pleasure in kissing for kissing’s sake. It was an art form when she kissed him, truly, and even the gentlest connections caused a low moan to emit from his throat.
However, James still liked passionate kisses, and it wasn’t long before he flipped her over so she was beneath him – he had mastered the art of doing so without causing any bodily harm to her person with his hook long before he met Remy – and forced her mouth open with his tongue so he could explore it the way it deserved to be, the way he needed to. She tasted like freedom and completion, like nothing in the world could turn her from him. She tasted like happiness, like all of his desires were rolled into this one person, and the thought of someone taking her from him was a nightmare, was a stone in his stomach that he could not rid himself no matter what method he tried to use.
But she was gone, a niggling voice in the back of his mind reminded himself. She was torn from you the same way your hand was, and by the same person. You aren’t kissing her now; you’ve never kissed her before. This is a dream, and you are a man grasping at a dream rather than face your current reality. You’re pathetic.
Get up.
Get UP.
James sprung up in bed, his brow taut with sweat, his breathing ragged. His crystal blue eyes looked out his window, but besides Nick at the helm, the deck was empty.
It was early, too early to get out of bed, but James knew he would not be sleeping any longer. He stood up and stretched and then, with acquired skill, began putting on his clothing for the day one handed. He did not remember how long it had been since his hand had been chopped from his body. Certainly, it was years, but it felt as though he had always been without one hand. He was used to having one less appendage than usual to the point where his hook was now and extension of himself. He did not even feel bitter anymore when he placed it on his left stump.
At first, he thought losing his hand would affect both the perception of him as well as his ability to be an effective captain. However, he would learn that that was not the case at all. In fact, losing a hand caused people to be even more intimidated by him. It added to the danger he posed, and he even was branded with a nickname that stuck with him so long he completely forgot his given name. James Hook was good enough for him – it painted a picture of a frightening pirate, ruler of The Other World, who intended to take what he wanted and show no mercy. In fact, losing his hand was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to him.
He learned quickly how to master simple things such as getting dressed and handling a sword with ease. He forced himself to learn how to use his hook carefully, whether it was to scratch an itch or stab someone with it. He took immaculate care of the hook, cleaning it every night before he went to bed, and washing it every morning. It was an extension of his person, and he treated it as such.
In terms of romance and the physical nature of relationships, James found that women still flocked to him as though he was a big, juicy fish and they were starving seagulls looking for something to scavenge. In fact, oddly enough, his hook drew him even more female attention than he already received, which was saying something, considering he needed no assistance in capturing attention from the fairer sex. He had to learn to remember that he had a hook for a hand lest he unintentionally injure a partner because no doubt that would put a damper on the mood. That took him a bit longer than acquiring skil
ls in other aspects of his piratical life, probably because sex was second-nature to him. To re-learn an instinct required much more effort than everything else did. Luckily for him, he did not harm any woman to the point of dissatisfaction, and the close calls only enhanced the experience rather than hinder it.
Despite all the positive attention he received and all the good that came from having a hook, he would not let the man responsible for it live life as though he had not done anything wrong. Vengeance was something James was familiar with and preferred to indulge in whenever the situation required it.
No, not man.
Boy.
Peter Pan was the one who chopped his hand from his body, and James had every intention of making him pay. The hook, while an unexpectedly helpful tool he had no trouble utilizing, was a reminder that he was not whole anymore. He was missing a hand. He was not a complete man anymore. He had been bitter about it for a long time; Peter was the number one person on his list where he needed to extract his vengeance on. If he did that, he would redeem himself. Plus, if he killed Pan here, he would be gone forever. There would be no need to worry if he got into mischief and tried to thwart James’s plan to acquire power.
Rumors ran rampant how each realm was to be united under one ruler, which meant each realm must follow one law. It would be a vastly less complicated system, and inhabitants of each realm would understand what was expected of them, as well as be aware of the consequences should they choose to break any of the laws. James was adamant he be that ruler.
He knew The Magistrate was working for that position as well. How could she not, when she was just as power-hungry as Peter was, as James was. He was not sure who Pan would be loyal to; certainly, Pan worked for The Magistrate. James was almost positive he had taken Remy to her. But Pan was loyal to himself more than anyone else, and James was not sure if The Magistrate knew that. She was arrogant enough to believe no one would dare cross her. James knew better. Peter was a selfish little shit. Now, James was forced to figure out what Pan’s game was, why he was aiding The Magistrate, and what would force him to show his true hand.
The Neverland Trilogy Box Set Page 46