The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)

WINNIE

The house is freezing when we come inside and my breath puffs out in front of me. I tighten Vane’s jacket around my shoulders and the smell of him—crushed amber and rainy summer nights—makes me feel warm and cozy.

In the foyer, the twins start up the staircase to the loft, so I follow behind with Vane beside me.

Pan hangs back, a deep frown on his face.

Vane stops on a step, hand on the banister. “What is it?” he asks Pan.

Pan shakes out of his thought. “I haven’t seen the Lost Boys in a while. It’s quiet.”

The twins reach the upper level. Bash says he’ll make a fire while Kas decides to pop open another bottle of fairy wine.

“They’re probably in town fucking around,” Vane says.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Pan follows us up and when we gather in the loft, the twins are already filling glasses from an uncorked bottle of wine, a fire flickering on the hearth.

“To celebrate,” Bash says.

Vane snorts. “For what?”

“Fucking Darling’s pussy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Pan says and takes one of the glasses on offer.

“I suppose I will too,” I say and snatch a glass. I drink it back in several gulps. If I’m not careful, I could easily become an alcoholic drinking fairy wine. It warms my belly and leaves behind a sweet boldness on my tongue that makes my eyes water a little and my head feel swimmy.

But I’m still shivering.

“It’s going to take too long to heat this room,” Kas says.

The loft is one big open room, with the Never Tree on one end, and the dining room and balcony on the other, and the kitchen on the other side through two huge doorways.

“The library?” I suggest.

“I have a better idea.” Bash nods at Pan. “When’s the last time you went up to your old room?”

Pan is at the bar, one elbow propped on its top. He’s since passed the wine and has gone on to the bourbon. “A very long time,” he admits.

“Wait…where is Pan’s old room? Have I seen it? Is it the room where you found the magical shell from the lagoon?”

“Up another floor,” he answers and slings back a swill of liquor.

It’s not out of the ordinary, for me to live in a house for a while only to realize there were rooms and nooks and crevices I hadn’t yet discovered.

My mom once rented a house that had a closet that followed the roofline of the house. On first glance, it just looked like a black hole to the far wall, where the roof pitched. But I took a flashlight back there once and found a little door just around the corner that led into an attic that had been boarded up.

We weren’t in that house long, but that secret attic space became my haven for the rest of the fall. I even stole a battery-operated lantern from the dollar store and a blanket from a neighbor’s laundry line and made myself the coziest little reading corner.

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that I’ve yet to see all of Peter Pan’s treehouse. In fact, I’m kinda excited about the prospect now.

“Show me,” I tell Pan.

His bright blue eyes are distant again, but he blinks back to focus at my command and grabs the bottle of bourbon. “This way.”

We go down the hallway that leads to the library and his tomb. I know there’s a hidden staircase beyond his tomb entrance that leads up into a sitting room. We go there first and Pan reaches his fingers behind a bookcase and something internally clicks. He yanks on the bookcase and it slides open on a system of hinges and wheels to reveal a curving stairwell made of stone, with small, circular windows set into the walls so that the bluish light of the snowy night fills the space with a diffused glow.

“Oh my god. This is incredible.” I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from squealing.

“Darling likes secret rooms?” Bash raises his brow. “Let’s put that on the list for the next palace we build her.”

Wouldn’t that be a dream? We’re all a little drunk so I’m not going to hold him to it.

“Who goes first?” I ask them.

“Go on, Darling,” Pan says, the barest hint of amusement lifting the corner of his wicked mouth.

And thinking about his mouth being wicked makes my insides clench up with excitement.

“She’s already thinking about getting fucked,” Vane says.

“Hey! Quit reading my mind.”

“Wait, you can read each other’s minds?” Bash asks.

“No,” I answer and take the first step up. “But the shadow casts our emotions back to one another. And Vane is particularly good at reading mine.”

“What is the Dark One feeling right now?” Bash asks, leaning his shoulder into the stone wall at the entrance.

I look at Vane again, standing at the back beside Pan, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression practically daring me to read him.

He’s closed up again, as usual, bastard.

To Bash I say, “Have you ever seen a kid at a carnival, when they’re sitting on a bench devouring a giant cone of cotton candy? And they’re a little sticky and ravenous and giddy with excitement?”

“Of course,” Bash says.

“That’s Vane right now.”

Kas tries to hide his laughter, but it comes out anyway and Vane scowls at him.

“Darling,” Vane says, narrowing his eyes, “I will make you pay for that smart mouth of yours.”

“Ohhhhh,” Bash says. “Let me tie her up first so you can have your way with her.”

Immediately, no questions asked, I’m fucking dripping.

Why do these boys have such a hold over me? Why does my body immediately puddle every single time they promise to treat me like a dirty whore?

I’m going to pretend like there is no more warfare quietly building on the horizon, and I’m going to let them treat me like a whore so that all I feel is pleasure and the frenzy of being used by men who love me enough to know exactly what I want and need, and how I need it.

“Let’s go,” I say and follow the curving stairs up and up into the shadows.