Forever Cursed (Never Ever Series Book 2)

by Sarah J. Pepper

  I caught a glimpse of the fiery sails when he moved out of the way. The ship’s deck, masts, rails—everything glowed hot like it was still on fire. Embers blew in the wind, slowly fluttering to sea. It would be a long time before the ship slowly burned into dust. The destruction this warship undertook and still floated above water—it should be laid to rest at the bottom of the ocean next to the Atocha.

  However, the state of the warship wasn’t the most horrific sight aboard. Standing behind the wheel was James’ first mate. Michael. The haunted look in Michael’s eyes left me with a sense of dread. There was no happiness left in them, no pain, just nothing.

  Hollow.

  My heart leaped. Slowly, the damned crew came into view. Smee adjusted his eye piece and argued about something with Michael, who did not seem to hear him. Robben and Cadmus were rolling barrels of something across the deck. Even as large as Cadmus was, Robben still dwarfed him. One of the twins was in position at the crow’s nest—probably Kale since it appeared to be night. Strapped to his side was the double-barreled gun.

  “You miss this life at sea,” Peter said. His pale blue eyes shimmered as the fire burning below the floor cast shadows on his face.

  “Not with you,” I said, too quickly, and then added, “Not on this boat. Too many bad memories.”

  “A different ship? Perhaps one worthier of your status,” he suggested, walking around me, his feet hovering just above the floorboards.

  It was everything I could do not to scratch my wings off his back. Yet I forced myself to smile at him.

  “I know just the one.” Peter withdrew the compass from his pants pocket. “I simply must find her first.”

  “Her?” I questioned. “The boat?”

  A sly smile spilled across his face. His fingers coiled around the compass. “What else would I be talking about?”

  I must have been staring at the compass that used to be in my possession because he raised it high above his head, dangling it above me. I forced myself to blink slowly and turn away. I walked to the window. The floorboards creaked under my footing. Standing on my toes, I peered out the dipping window. I couldn’t hear him approach me, but I felt his hot breath hit my back.

  “Why did you leave Neverland?” I asked.

  “To get you back, of course.”

  The snap of the compass top clasping shut resonated in my ears. He wanted that compass enough to jump into turmoil waters after me. It was important. I just didn’t understand why. He may have left Neverland with me on his mind, but this was certainly a consolation prize.

  “But why were you so hell-bent on returning?”

  Peter whispered in my ear, “Tell me all of your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine, darling.”

  Chapter 13

  Miss Bell

  The sound of water running woke me this time. As reality solidified, I came to on a bed made of feathers. Sheets ran smooth over my exposed skin, gathering alongside a nightgown. The air was cool as I drew a breath but there was a hint of moisture in it. As I opened my eyes, I realized I was in a bedroom—a suite.

  French inspired sheets spilled over me, dripping onto the wooden floor. Sun cast its golden rays through sheer curtains. That was when I realized the sound of running water had awakened me again. James was drawing himself a bath, stark naked.

  My breath hitched, memorizing the tightness of his lower back as it molded into the perfect ass. God, he had a fine way about him. The sunlight danced over his tanned skin as it shimmered through the curtains, lingering on the lines of his waist as it spread outward onto his shoulders. The lines of his body—oh heaven help me, I couldn’t recall a more defined man.

  I clung to my breathing, silently watching him climb into a bathing tub. He pressed the curve of his hook along the edge. The pressure only illustrated the power he had in his arms. The darkness of the vine that twirled around his forearm moved with his muscles as he carried his weight, causing places deep inside me to tighten.

  Bubbles danced in the air, sticking to him in the places where I fantasized dragging my nails. He lowered his head back, relaxing into the warmth of the water.

  I released a breath of air. The softness of my gasp caught his attention. Immediately he turned, facing my direction. When our gazes locked, he froze. The darkness of his stare caught me off guard. Yet, he didn’t move, not until I blinked. Time slowed as I watched him draw himself up. Water beaded down his chest, drizzling onto his stomach. It dribbled down, rolling across each ripple.

  I followed the drips down the v-line of his waist until a towel blocked me. My gaze drifted upward as he strode across the floor. I swear he crossed the room in only a few steps. As soon as he was within reach, he cupped my face. His eyes searching mine. A weight of worry lingered in them. His touch was gentle but he carried tension in his shoulders. The line of his jaw—he shaved recently. Well, within the last couple of days. Stubble interrupted the smoothness. A fleeting thought crossed my mind; how many days had I slept? My body felt stiff, like it still wasn’t quite awake. But it didn’t ache like it should have. I glanced at my arms—no bruises or markings tattered my skin.

  “You were asleep for quite some time,” he said, gently. “How are you feeling?”

  “Thirsty.” My voice was hoarse but it didn’t hurt to speak.

  Without hesitation, he turned away from me and crossed the room to the bathing area. The towel tied around his waist needed to go.

  He filled a glass of water and then returned. He handed it to me and watched as I drank it down. He didn’t say a word as I handed him back the glass but his attention was blatant as he carefully sat next to me.

  He didn’t even have to touch me and the tension coiled so deeply within me. His gaze was enough. Seeing the desire in his dark eyes, the hunger, the want, the need—all but consumed me.

  “What do you want, Miss Bell?”

  He tucked my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering down my neck. He rolled his thumb over the gown’s lace as he stared into my eyes. He didn’t utter a word, like he was waiting for me to collect myself.

  “I’m hungry,” I admitted.

  “I can have something sent up…”

  He leaned into me as he spoke as though he couldn’t help himself to inch closer. The need to be near me was not to be denied, nor would I deny him of anything. He was the reason I was safe, protected. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed while I slept, but I supposed it really didn’t matter. Countless times he’d been there when I needed him the most. His affection didn’t waiver. He cared for me unapologetically and didn’t care who knew it, even when they could use it against him.

  “…not listening to me…”

  How could he think I could concentrate on anything else when the only thing in the world that mattered was him?

  The way the dampness of his skin glistened in the light. Twice I tried to reach for him but the delicate steadiness in my hand escaped me. It wasn’t until I tried a third time did I notice he’d stopped talking entirely.

  I traced my finger down his arm, circling it along the crook of his elbow. Warmth spread throughout me as my finger skimmed along the blackened marking on his forearm—the one created when I had enchanted the twisted vine to anchor the hook to his arm. My body hummed as I caressed it. When my fingers trailed up his arm, they rippled like water. The rippling effect echoed through the marking and into me, reaching places no one could touch. My eyes fluttered shut as I slipped my fingers over the curvature of his hook. I bit my bottom lip to keep my thoughts locked in tight.

  His hand slipped along my face, cradling it in his hand. When I opened my eyes, I fell into the darkness of his. I wanted to say so many things, but they all fell short on my tongue. The air between us grew heavy, making it difficult to think, whereas my concentration sharpened.

  “You’re hungry?”

  I nodded, nibbling on my bottom lip. His gaze dropped to my mouth.

  “I see.” He muttered something about my appetite but then gave me what
I had been truly craving. His kiss.

  I drank in his lips, breathing in his kiss. His tongue slipped over mine—wanting, needing, searching for more. The undeniable urge tugged deep within me. My craving ignited his.

  Knots tightened in my stomach as he delved into my kiss, swallowing each moan, every whimper, every sound I didn’t know I could make. He drank them all down greedily. I’d lost my mind, but I didn’t care.

  The heat of his body pressed up against mine warmed me, pooled between my legs. As our kiss became deeper, building upon each nibble, each bite, each caress of our tongues, my need spread like fire over my skin.

  His hands synched around my waist when I dragged my teeth over his lips. As I ripped a moan from him, I pulled him against me, my breasts pressed against his hardened chest.

  “Don’t deny me.” Part whimper, part plea escaped me.

  He dragged his teeth down the bottom of my ear, catching the small of my back as pleasure rolled through me. “This is not about denial, my love.” The deepness of his voice, the vibration of it, tugged at my belly.

  In the heat building between us, I was undoubtedly his. Completely his. Yet, he refused to take me quickly, forcing me to wait when the pressure between my legs demanded release.

  Gripping my waist tight, he jerked me forward. My legs dangled off the bed. He pressed his thigh in between them and forced my knees apart.

  “Open,” he demanded.

  I pressed my knees against his leg, refusing to be easily claimed. My heart rattled inside my chest when he bore down on me with a dangerous grin. The darkness shadowing his russet eyes glimmered like he hadn’t expected me to deny him of anything. The desire in them burned hotter.

  “You disobedient vixen.” His demands drowned into a spill of cursed words and a promise I would be punished for disobeying him.

  I stopped his rant with a single caress of my finger. I tugged it along the edge of his towel, tracing it down the fabric.

  “For Christ’s sake,” he swore. His body tense yet unmoving.

  With a parted mouth, I looked up at him. He needed to see, needed to know I wanted him as much as he did me. And oh, I wanted him, every promising inch of him. An eager moan tore from his throat as I pressed against the swell under his towel. The quiver in my hands only deepened when I reached for the bit of cloth holding him in.

  Unable to hold back anymore, he devoured me. Everywhere his hand touched my skin, it awakened like it had long been held captive in a dream. As he grabbed a handful of my skirt, my body burned with need. Everywhere he caressed me ached for more. Each place he neglected begged for attention. He pulled the wetness from inside me as he worked his way down my neck, sliding his tongue along my skin. He worked his way down, slowly, yet deliberately caressing my skin like it was the first time he’d touched me. I arched for him, desperate to feel his tongue slick over my breasts.

  My fingers became more daring, grazing over his shoulders and spreading them onto his back as he crushed over the softness of my chest. The tension, the pleasure, twirled deep within me, threatening to spill over.

  Crying out, I arched more, my body more in his control than my own. His arm caught my waist and his hand held the back of my neck as I ground my hips against his. Keeping his hand steady, he withdrew his arm, dragging his hook up my back. I shivered. Coarse words fled his lips as he drank in my trembling body. With one swift movement, he lowered me to my back yet he stood tall. A moment which lasted forever passed between us as he stared down at me.

  My heart hammered against my ribs as his gaze lingered. The way he looked at me, like I was perfect, was too much. Pushing up on my elbows, I leaned forward, lightly brushing my shivering chest against his body. I leaned in close, not enough to kiss him, but just enough so my lips dragged across his as I ground my hips against his. The softness of his lips lightly caressed mine in sync with each slow, deliberate thrust.

  One…Two…Three…

  Four.

  Muttering something possessive, he ripped back the sheets tangled around my legs. Losing his restraint, he lifted me up only to let me fall on my back with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. His towel hit the floor. My gaze dropped with it. My breath hitched. My pulse roared in my ears at the thought of him inside me. The pain and pleasure he would cause—

  Someone pounded on the door, startling me enough that I jumped. Without waiting for an answer, they barged in. Deval and another trinket strode into the room, sucking out all the hunger in the air.

  James ripped the sheets off the bed, wrapping me around in the silk. “Piss off, Deval!”

  “Zut.” Deval arched a sly brow. “Am I interrupting?”

  I wanted to scream at them to get out, but my insides were so rattled the words stuck to my tongue. James, however, didn’t hold back.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “I thought I heard the fairy stirring.” Deval carried on like he’d suddenly went deaf to James’ demands. “Kensington will be pleased she has finally awakened, as will the practitioner.”

  “Give us some privacy you bag o' shite,” James boomed.

  Deval chuckled and then sauntered closer to the bed. “You’ve healed, quite nicely, Bell.”

  James’ eyes burned with hatred. He exploded off the bed and strode over to Deval without shying away from the fact he was stark naked. He slammed his knee into Deval’s stomach, grabbed his wrist, and wrenched it behind his back.

  James seethed, “Let’s have a chat outside, shall we?”

  Part II

  Present day

  Chapter 14

  Captain james

  Pushing Deval through the doorway, I shoved his chest up against the neighboring wall. God, it would be so bloody easy to rip a hole in his throat and be done with him.

  “Tempérer, tempérer,” Deval chuckled, his laugh void of humor.

  “Just because you did me a favor does not mean I won’t kill you,” I promised, jerking back on his arm hard enough to wipe that cocky smile off his face. Fucking wanker.

  “How did your fairy take it, when she found out—”

  “Piss off! That is none of your Goddamn business,” I interrupted and noticed the hallway was not empty for the first time.

  Guards were posted at every doorway, prowling the estate. I knew Kensington had them there to keep an eye on us. I wasn’t an idiot. The click of the other one’s boots came up behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Judging from the deadpanned expression, I knew he was itching for a fight.

  God, I was too. I’d been playing nice for too fucking long. However, the other guard left the door open, and I wasn’t about to leave Bell unprotected for very long.

  Pushing off Deval, I stepped back, giving him breathing room as the other good little guards had taken notice of my outburst.

  Deval flicked a piece of lint off his shirt when he turned around. “That’s right. Know your place amongst us.”

  His insubordination awakened a silent rage within me. My finger twitched, itching for a sword. I had killed men for less.

  “We are guests, you miserable git,” I sneered, standing straighter.

  “Right. You are invités,” Deval said, not bothering to hide the cynicism in his voice. “What was I thinking?”

  Like Deval, I also knew I could not defend Bell every waking second—not in a city where the population grew only when a fairy led another fool here. They were here to keep an eye on us as well as formally uphold our agreement. If Peter was coming, he’d destroy everything in his path and wouldn’t stop simply because we asked nicely.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, the curvature of my hook rested on my forearm like a hand would. I raised my eyebrow when I caught Deval gawking. If he thought I would back down simply because I was stark naked, he was a bigger fool than I initially anticipated.

  “Like you said, Kensington will be delighted to know Miss Bell has finally awakened,” I sneered. “Why don’t you run off and tell him. I am certain he will not want to waste any more tim
e as it’s been nearly a month since our arrival.”

  The prick had the audacity to glare at me.

  “I’m not your messager,” Deval stated with a curled lip. “Salaud.”

  No, he wasn’t my messenger. But that didn’t make him any less of a little bitch. The redheaded guard next to Deval had a strong frame and would put up a good fight. He had the stature and build for it. But that didn’t mean he was well trained or knew how to fight. Deval did, the arrogant prick. Now was not the time to kill him, though I was counting the seconds.

  “Tell the monarch that Miss Bell is well. If I must inform him of that myself, I assure you that you will not enjoy the consequences,” I promised and sallied forth, back into the guest suite.

  Chapter 15

  Miss Bell

  The slamming of the door jolted me. Again. James strode across the room. Again. My gaze slipped to his chiseled backside—again. I might have been created to inspire lust and dirty thoughts, but he sure had been nature’s inspiration. Regardless, déjà vu came to mind until I caught a twitch in his finger.

  “What disturbs you?” I asked.

  He raked his hand through his hair. “Insubordination of others.”

  His hook flickered in the light, casting rays around the room. Its shimmer only seemed to poke at his rage. Tucking his arms behind his back, he grabbed his hook, covering it in his hand.

  “Michael did this to me, and he was my first mate. My first mate! I don’t know what Kensington’s men would do if they got their hands on you, but I doubt they will carry any remorse should you be harmed.” His shoulders fell slightly but I saw it nevertheless. “I do not wish to entice them by prolonging our stay.”

  “How long have we been here?” I asked, finally ready to face the reality that I should have confronted the moment I awakened. No bruises or cuts lingered on my skin. My breaths were deep, not cutting short from the pain in my throat or because of the broken ribs.