Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
He traced his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. “Where’s that, darling?” He had such a deep, comforting voice.
“It’s like I’m in the stars. I can see everything.”
When she closed her eyes, the Never Lands spread out beneath her like a map. She was soaring without moving. Every heartbeat was a lifetime that only lasted a second, yet she saw everything in the blink of an eye.
“Is this what he meant when he said women could sing to the stars?”
“Not quite.” His breath teased her cheek. “Do you want me to show you how to sing like that?”
She peeked at him through her lashes. “Maybe?” She wasn’t sure if Cassian was any safer than the rest of them, but her curiosity was undeniable. She truly wanted to know what everyone else seemed to know. Taking his large hand, she pulled him closer. “Touch me, Cassian.”
He trailed his fingers slowly along her jaw and down to her collarbone. She sighed and arched into his touch, and her nipples tightened against the silk of her nightgown, shivering when his hand trailed between her breasts.
“Should I stop?”
“Why would you stop? It feels wonderful.”
He cupped her breast possessively. “Even this?”
“Especially that.” There was something about the aggressiveness of his hold that tightened the loose knots inside of her, bringing her to full attention.
“You like it a little rough, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She kept her eyes closed.
“I think you do.” He nuzzled her throat with his lips, the crinkle of his beard abrading her soft skin. “Have you ever been held down and fucked?”
Her breath hitched as his mouth sealed to hers—
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Cassian’s touch disappeared, jolting Wendy out of the sensual haze. Peter stood at the foot of the cabana bed scowling at his friend.
“Did I say you could touch her?”
“Peter, relax. We were only having fun.”
Wendy blinked in confusion. Was that a knife in Peter’s hand? “You think I brought her here for you.”
“No. But she was upset. I was—”
“I saw what you were doing.”
Rolling to her stomach, Wendy slithered to the edge of the cushion and stumbled onto the sand, laughing when she landed in a heap.
“What the fuck did you give her? She can barely walk.”
“I can walk!” She held up a finger, needing a moment to find her bearings.
“Peter, I only gave her a little pixie dust—”
“You fucking drugged her?”
“Not without her consent!” Cassian shouted, holding up his hands defensively. “Peter, I swear—”
“You’re a dead man.” Peter charged, toppling Cassian to the sand, and others swarmed around them.
Wendy could only laugh. “Don’t be such a prude, Peter.” No one seemed to hear her over all the fighting.
The pixie dust made it impossible to get upset. She turned her gaze to the sea as something caught her eye. A dark shape materialized out of the night like a phantom rising from the black. It sliced through the water with silent, lethal grace, and she wondered if she was hallucinating.
On her feet, she stumbled toward the cliffs. Shadows against shadows, the midnight waves parted as the enormous hull of a ship plunged toward the lagoon like the blade of a sword.
This was not a yacht or an ordinary cruise ship. This was a relic made of warped wood and iron. Black sails rippled silently, undetected by the others who watched the fight.
The air shifted as she wobbled to the cliff’s edge. Something wicked and forbidden radiated from the ship’s bones as if she were the one luring it in. Emboldened, she leaned over the edge where the tide had receded, and rocks protruded from the surf like jagged, black teeth.
Pale moonlight glinted against the ship’s prow, revealing a gilded figurehead—half-woman, half-beast. She glanced back, too far away from the others to call the ship to attention. Could no one else see it? Maybe it wasn’t real.
Wind beat at the tails of her coat, lifting them like sails as she blocked the mist from her eyes and squinted. The black ship glided closer, lanterns swinging from the rigging, and her pulse quickened. A tall figure stood at the front, holding a long telescope to his eye, staring directly at her. She swore he was looking into her soul.
“Black Jack,” she whispered, her words swallowed by the raging surf below.
The shadowed figure turned and spoke to the men at his back. Time seemed to snap forward, and everything moved quickly. He called to his crew, but she couldn’t hear him over the crashing waves. How had she wandered so far away from the others? Should she go back and warn them?
Time stretched and spiraled. Rooted to the banks of the cliff, the cold ocean wind cut into her as the thick wool coat flapped wildly at her back. She held out her arms, wondering if she could fly.