Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)
Their Vicious Darling: Chapter 8

BASH

While we wait for the Dark One to return with the pirate, Peter Pan paces the loft and I busy myself in the kitchen even if our dysfunctional family breakfast is now up in the air.

Keeping my hands occupied is just the distraction I need. I’ve always loved being in the kitchen. It’s about the only thing I inherited from my mother, though she never actually loved it.

When she was lecturing Kas and I about our duties and our roles as crowned princes of the fae court, she would remind us of where she came from and the sacrifices she made to get to where she was.

And when she would replace me in the kitchen helping the staff measure and pour and stir for an upcoming dinner, she would practically pop a rib.

There may have been common fae blood in her veins, but she wanted to pretend that working with our hands was now beneath us.

Nani was queen long before Tinker Bell was and Nani worked with her hands until the day she died.

“You worried about Darling?” Kas asks as he pulls himself up on the counter behind me.

I scoop flour out of the canister. “Not really. I think if something were really wrong, Pan or Vane would know it.”

“You think we’re mistreating her?” he asks next.

“Oh definitely.”

He snorts. “We’re all depraved assholes. She’s probably better off without us.”

I look at my twin over my shoulder. He’s still shirtless. We usually are. There’s just something about feeling the sun and the Neverland ocean breeze on your bare skin that’ll make you hate clothes real quick.

Plus I look better shirtless.

“Speak for yourself,” I tell Kas. “I think she’s better with me.”

He snorts again and rolls his eyes and then tosses a cloudberry into the air, catching it with his open mouth a second later.

“You give any more thought to what we’ll do if we reclaim our throne?”

I crack open an egg and the white beads through the split. “The fae has always expected the royal line to reside in court and marry and work really fucking hard at banging out an heir.”

“Yep.”

“I’m actually surprised our dear sister hasn’t married yet.”

“She always did go her own way.”

It makes me wonder what she wants out of all this. She’s doing what she thinks is expected of her, and yet she is shirking all of the traditional roles of a queen.

With the ingredients in the clay bowl, I grab one of the wooden spoons from the drawer and start mixing. “Can you imagine all four of us living in the fae palace with our Darling queen?”

Kas and I look at one another.

It’s a ridiculous notion, my brother says in our language.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Pan says from the doorway.

There’s a drink in his hand. He upends the glass and drains the liquor. “But…” he adds and breathes around the heat of the drink. “This is no royal home.” His gaze goes distant. “We could build her a new one. A castle fit for a queen.”

“Three kings and a Dark One?” Kas says behind me. We can all hear the sarcasm in his voice.

Now that is a ridiculous notion, I tell him.

Pan leans against the door frame, his eyes on Darling still on the couch in the next room. “I always dreamed of a united Neverland.” He looks down at the empty glass in his hand and turns it this way and that, catching the sunlight. “Is that a ridiculous notion?” When he lifts his gaze again, his blue eyes are trained on us.

He understood our language that time.

Has he always?

Or is it the return of his shadow?

“No more fighting and conniving amongst ourselves?” Kas says. “It does sound like a dream.”

Pan nods. “A Neverland dream. One I never wish to wake from.”

Just then the front door bangs open. It creaks on its broken hinges.

I leave the pancake batter behind and my twin follows me as I follow Pan into the loft.

Vane and Smee are just coming up the stairs.

“I’m shocked he talked you into it, Smee,” I say.

She’s wearing a gauzy sleeveless shirt with several buttons undone from the collar exposing the odd emblem she has tattooed on her chest. Her locs are tied up on the top of her head and held back with a strip of cloth the color of firecracker flowers.

Smee ignores me and comes around the couch and kneels beside our Darling girl. Balder opens his eyes to her but clearly doesn’t view her as a threat. In fact, his tail wags like he’s happy to see her.

“How long has she been out?” Smee asks.

“About a half hour,” Pan answers.

Smee peels back one of Darling’s eyelids and checks her pupils. Then she runs her fingers over Darling’s neck, then her shoulders.

“What were you doing?” she asks as she continues her check.

Darling is still naked but Pan covered her with a blanket. He’s dressed again.

“Is that relevant?” Vane asks.

Smee looks over her shoulder at him as he stands, brooding, beyond the couch, arms crossed.

I’m not sure if he was more of a prick when he hated Darling or now when he’s clearly falling for her.

Smee pulls a small vial from the pocket of her trousers.

“What is that?” Pan asks.

“Smelling salts,” Smee answers. “Potent, safe, but effective. Do I have your permission to try it?”

Pan inhales and gives her a nod.

Smee uncorks the top and puts the vial beneath Darling’s nose.