by Dee Garcia
As much as I’d like not to agree with her on the Hook/Tinksley front, I know she’s right. Had revenge never been at the top of Tinksley’s list, the poor girl would’ve lived her life with that boy, clueless to what a monster he truly was.
"Are you okay?" It’s all I can think to ask at this point, breathing past the surge still searing me from the inside out.
"About the baby?"
I nod, throat bobbing dramatically as I down that bitter pill.
“I'm probably going to sound like a cold-hearted bitch for this but—” she pauses, nipping her full bottom lip for a heart-thrashing beat. “Everything happens for a reason and I'm glad it did. I honestly can't imagine carrying this baby full-term knowing what I know about Peter now. An innocent life in this whole mess, I know.”
I can’t tell if she’s serious, or if this is her version of a brave face. "But what, little wolf—you can tell me. Nothing changes, remember?"
Wendy nods and reaches for my hand, urging me to follow her. We fall instep and amble out of town when she finally continues, “Just thinking about Peter, about all those years I spent fretting over him, and what I allowed to happen when he returned makes me sick to my stomach. I can't believe I wasted all that time praying for his safety when he'd not only killed his mother, but was here, preying on his little sister."
She has a point. "Well, when you put it that way.”
"Sickening, just sickening. That’s why I know his offspring would only serve as a hellish reminder of it all. I can’t believe I’m about to say this but after all I’ve suffered, the last thing I need is to look at an innocent child and relive everything that lead up to their conception on a daily basis. I’ll never recover and I don’t want to end up like my mother—whoring out on the corner for drug money to numb herself.”
Yet another valid point. Perhaps it’s because I’m a man, but I can see the sense in that. Children are products of their parents and while Wendy might’ve been the greatest mother to walk the earth, the other half of that child would always be a reminder of him.
A trigger waiting to happen, hiding in the shadows for an opportune time to strike.
Yes, this is logical. Rational. Relieving. Imagine if this wasn’t her mindset, if the grief of losing an unexpected baby swallowed her whole. She thinks her indifference makes her cold-hearted—well, then I must be selfish, too.
"Do you want kids?" I ask, bypassing the mention of her mother. The conversation is already heavy enough without adding in a parent who very clearly failed in their role.
"Of course, I love kids. Just wasn’t the right time or with the right person.”
The right person. My chest puffs up at those three little words. "I don't know that there's ever really a right time. Plans aside, is anyone ever ready for a baby? Even with multiple children—each one is a different experience, a different journey. Hell, Lil and I were complete opposites as kids. I was hell on wheels and well, she wasn't."
"Really? I would never have guessed," she quips, shooting me a sideways grin.
One that draws out on my lips, too. "Shut up." I shove her gently.
"Make me." She shoves back, rooting me to the ground beneath us.
Off the top of my head, I could think of at least three ways to make her, none of which would be deemed appropriate for the moment.
By the way she’s currently looking at me, beneath thick, coy lashes, I’d say she’s thinking the same.
Makes me want to test one out all the more.
Clearing my throat, I tip my head towards the path. I need to get her to Soren’s before I do something I’ll regret later. "You need to rest."
"I know,” she sighs. “Ward told me to take it easy until the cramping lets up. Are you sure it's going to be okay for me to stay at Soren's?"
"Absolutely. Of all the Lost Boys, he's the one I trust most. Probably why he's my beta."
"What does that mean? Your beta?"
"He's second in command."
"Oh, wow. I had no idea that was really a thing," she admits, holding a hand out to brush the greenery beside her.
"I must say, I'm super intrigued to hear what your people think about supernatural beings."
"There's lores of all kinds. Some seem to be pretty spot on which makes me wonder how they know so much. Others are way off. It's comical, really. "
This should be good. "You can tell me all about it later tonight,” I chuckle, “I'm gonna go get some work done on the house while you rest."
"I wanna come," she beams—innocently I should add, but my brain doesn’t register it as such.
My eyes fall shut.
Jesus Christ.
That visual will now undoubtedly harass me for the rest of the day.
"You need to rest,” I rasp, starting through the smattering of trees that leads into Silver Sanctuary. “I'll take you another day, okay?"
"Yes, dad," she mocks, throwing in an eye roll.
Now I know how my dad feels when I’m a smartass. She’s lucky she’s so damn cute.
"Don't do that.” I grin, shaking my head. “It's for your own good. I can't get you home in this state. In fact, I won't take you home in this state."
"Well, lucky for you I'm in no rush as of this moment anyway. Quite frankly, I don't know what I'm going to do once I get there. It’s not like I can just walk into my job and say, ‘Hey, sorry I haven’t come in for my shifts. I was whisked away to a magical land filled with vampires and wolves.’” She scoffs a little laugh. “I might not have a place to stay, either. I’m sure my rent was already due."
She wants to stay.
Not going to lie, that little flame of hope ignites.
"You're welcome here as long as you'd like."
“I’ll keep that in mind, just don't work too hard, okay? I don’t mind having alone time, but I don’t want to be alone all the time."
"I’ll make time for you, little wolf, I promise,” I vow. “But I want you to see my home at least once before you decide to finally leave me."
♫ Close - Nick Jonas And Tove Lo ♫
I want you to see my home at least once before you decide to finally leave me.
I've heard that line in my head at least fifty times since we made it back to Soren’s. What does that even mean?
Does he not want me to leave?
Does he not want to get on with his life?
I mean, it can’t be convenient to have me around.
You're reading too much into it, Wendy.
Yeah, I probably am. Then again, not sure what else I'm supposed to think after what transpired earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking running from him like that in the first place. I begged him to let me handle the appointment on my own, promised him I’d spill it all once everything was said and done, and then I ran.
Senselessly.
Selfishly.
But he didn’t let me get very far, and I’m glad he didn’t.
Talking it out with him, telling him how I felt was the best thing I ever could have done for myself. At no point did he judge me or make me feel like I was wrong in my own feelings. Like I was wrong for not grieving.
Because I should be, right? Not just the baby, but Peter, too. Wouldn’t most women be?
As I told Tavi, though, that baby might have been an innocent life in all of this, but I don’t want a piece of Peter. Self-seeking or not, it’s the absolute truth. What love I had for him shattered when the truth finally came to light. I didn't have time to process what he did and try to twist it enough to find justification.
No, it became my reality in minutes, in a series of terrifying events, days that felt like months on end.
And what's scariest is—I don't even know the whole tale yet. What everyone’s story is. What he did and how he affected them.
All I know is what his actions did to me.
Peter Pan was a disease, a silent killer infecting anyone he crossed paths with, and when he died, that naive little Wendy died, too.
I’ll admit,
as a woman it hurts to know my body couldn’t do it, but the optimistic side of me wants to believe it’s merely the circumstances.
You can try with him.
Him—Tavi.
"Ughhh," I groan, rolling my face into the pillow.
The more time I spend with him, the more these thoughts invade me.
Sex and romance, both things I shouldn't be thinking about, but here we are nonetheless.
I can’t help it.
The way he looks at me has the power to set me on fire. My cheeks heat just thinking about it.
Intense. Fervent. Predatory in all the best ways possible.
Now imagine that gaze magnified in tenfold—that’s what I saw in his brown eyes today, playing out before me in an obscene reel of possible scenarios I’m sure he could fulfill without falter. I’m not stupid, I know what desire in a man’s eyes looks like.
But it’s not just desire, though. There’s something else simmering in that stare.
Tavi looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and I kinda want him to.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, right as two knocks resound at the door.
The sound echoes through my introspection, blinking me back into the confines of Soren's guest bedroom.
“Come in, “ I call softly, rolling back onto my elbows.
The door opens promptly and in comes Tavi.
Sweaty, dirty, a cocksure grin spreading his lips when he catches the way my mouth parts.
"How you feeling, little wolf?" he asks, dropping the bag slung over his shoulder onto the edge of the bed.
"Just sore, tired. The odd cramp here or there, but they've died down significantly." I'm surprised I can talk with the amount of saliva that's pooled in my mouth.
"Good. You hungry?"
No, but I'm thirsty.
I don't actually say the words aloud, but apparently I don't have to. His smile spreads as though they’re tattooed on my forehead. And God damn him because it's that smile again, the one that hypnotizes you by what it does to his handsome face. He's all fine, hard lines and alluring, dark features.
Holding my stare like a vise as he opens the bag and proceeds to grab fresh clothing.
My stomach flips.
For the love of God, stop it, you bastard.
"I can eat," I manage, and farther still it spreads into a full-on grin because I literally just walked myself right into him responding with, "I can eat, too."
Done, I'm done.
My cheeks have to be brighter than a tomato as the very obvious subliminal forms into something I can picture perfectly.
"Soren probably won't be back for a while. I'm gonna shower real quick and then I'll whip something up. Sound good?" He arches a brow, loving what he can see written all over my face right now.
"Perfect," I agree, offering him a slow nod.
His answer to that?
A soft yet deliciously dark laugh from deep within his chest. Tavi shakes his head, then reaches for the hem of his wood-dusted t-shirt and lifts it over his head. It doesn’t happen in slow motion but I swear that’s how I see it.
Okay, I lied.
Now I'm done.
I mean, I hadn't doubted Tavi's body would look like this, and yet I still find myself shocked. Let’s just say he doesn’t need a gym membership, not when everything he does, what he is, has contributed to this.
Do I even need to paint it out for you?
Broad shoulders, tree trunks for arms, one of his forearms adorned with a jetblack tribal-looking tattoo. His waist tapers in slightly, abdomen rigid.
The man is all muscle and, of course, encompasses pretty much every weakness I possess.
The V. That's what it's called, right? Those two decadently deep lines that point to what you can only hope is a good cock, tempting you to lick him...
Yeah, he's got it, and holy fuck am I tempted.
And that's exactly what I end up throwing on mental replay as he saunters out of the room, giving me another killer view on his way to the bathroom.
If I don’t combust before Tavi gets me home, it’ll be a miracle.
I had to get out of bed while Tavi was in the shower.
The mental replay was killing me. I tried reading one of the novels Soren keeps on the nightstand. That lasted maybe five minutes. Tried another. Same outcome. Tried counting back the days to finally figure out how long I’ve been here.
Also a fail.
Tavi’s at the forefront of it all—strong and steady, unwavering.
It’s overwhelming to say the least. I’ve always had desires I enjoyed feeding, but this is unlike anything I’ve ever felt for any man. Almost like those men were wants and he’s a whole need.
“You’re so supposed to be resting,” Tavi’s voice booms behind me.
I knew he was coming. The water cut off just minutes ago.
“I literally slept all afternoon. I’m fine,” I laugh, sliding the blade through another sliver of the melon. We had it this morning with breakfast and it was so delicious, I had to have more.
“Considering it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, that’s not gonna fly, little wolf.”
“I’m fine, seriou—” The last bit comes blaring out as a squeal, knife clattering out of my hand onto the chopping board.
One minute I’m standing up right, and the next I’m being deposited on the tiled countertop.
His frame between my legs.
Arms on either side of my body.
“You’ll be fine right here, too.”
“This isn’t a bed,” I breathe, nearly swallowing my tongue.
He’s so close.
And he smells so good.
I’m so intoxicated by it, I can’t even pinpoint exactly what the scent is. All I know is I can’t seem to get it enough of it.
Smirking, he leans in all the more closer, the longer strands of his dark, still-wet hair falling into his face. “But you’re off your feet, which equates to rest.”
“You’re impossible.” Can’t talk. I can’t talk, can’t think.
He’s rushed all of my senses faster than they can process, rendering me speechless.
“Maybe a little bit.” His smirk widens, eyes cutting to the wooden board beside us. “I see you took a liking to the melon.”
I nod.
“Good, right? Did you try the strawberries?”
“I don’t think so. Then again, breakfast is fuzzy. I was so dizzy I don’t remember much except that melon.”
“If you’d had the strawberries, you’d know. They’re the best you’ll ever have.” He leaves me at the edge only long enough to grab the small wooden basket from the refrigerator and rinse some of the berries.
“I’m usually not huge on strawberries, unless they’re covered in chocolate.”
Tavi flicks his gaze on me and chuckles, head swinging side to side. “These are so sweet, chocolate would ruin them.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Lobo. Chocolate can’t ruin anything.”
His face lights up as he shuts off the tap. “You remembered that?”
“What?”
“Lobo,” he explains, carving a small smile on my lips.
“Well yeah, it’s your name.”
“Technically it’s not. Lobo is an acronym for Lost Boy, remember?”
I hadn’t, no, but now that he’s mentioned it, the memory resurfaces. “So then what’s your surname?”
“I don’t have one.” He shrugs a shoulder.
“So you’re just Tavi?”
Nodding, he drops a few strawberries in a napkin and finds his way back between my legs. “Sounds like you need to go back into your history books, little wolf. My ancestors may have hundreds of years worth of history in this realm, but I have family that spans back to cultural assimilation days in your world. Them choosing not to conform is what led us to Rosewood. Here.” He offers a sizable, bright red strawberry up to my lips. “Try one.”
My suddenly dry lips.
Tongue lashing out to we
t them, I snap my gaze between him and the ripe piece of fruit. “Do you need me to remind you that I’m not an invalid?” That wasn’t even a voluntary question. It came out before I could so much as—
“Do you need me to remind you that I never said that?” he tosses back, pressing the very tip of the berry against the slight dip in my lower lip. “Just take a bite.”
Him, the berry, him, the damned berry again. I bounce back and forth between the two until finally I just go for it.
So he’s feeding me a piece of fruit. What’s the big deal?
Could’ve been no deal at all, a casual—well, almost casual—thing, but then the sweetness he promised blasts over my taste buds and I shut my eyes, moaning in appreciation. “Wow, that is really good. It’s so juicy.”
“I told you,” he rasps, his voice thick, rousing. “The best.”
“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” Soren’s amused voice rings out behind us, shooting me at least three inches off the countertop and my eyes out of their sockets.
“Jesus,” Tavi and I parrot.
“I guess I am,” Soren chuckles, shutting the front door and slipping off his work boots. Tavi and I must look like deers caught in headlights because he visibly tamps down a laugh and holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’m hopping straight into the shower again. Do continue.”
“You don’t have to! He was just letting me taste those strawberries!” I blurt, only to realize that definitely didn’t help the situation.
Soren’s bright smile widens as my cheeks heat the same color of said strawberries. “Oh, I’m sure he was. Tavi likes them juicy. We knocked out another half wall after you left, by the way. She’s starting to come together quick.”
“We’ll be done soon,” Tavi agrees, prompting Soren to nod.
“I’m going to shower now.” He’s gone after that, stalking down the short hallway to the bathroom. Before the door shuts, we hear, “Save me some of those strawberries!”