Red-hot, irrational jealousy rushes through my veins like acid at the sight of her wrapping her arms around his neck. Even more so when his filthy hands slither down to her ass and squeeze. With a dip of his head, he seals their mouths together, reeling her in impossibly closer.
Her appeased little moans—I can hear them from here. My lip curls in a disgusted sneer. I loathe every single last one, loathe how he’s the one eliciting such sweet sounds from her, how he’s the one who can make her feel this way when he shouldn’t be.
Not in this realm or any for that matter.
That should be me. The incessant thought crosses my mind once more. Indignation then meets its green-eyed brother, balling my fists at my sides. I shake it away before it can fester any further and spin on my heels as Tinksley pushes Peter back onto her dainty cloud of a bed.
I can’t watch this.
Can’t hear it or even be near.
Yes, I’m fully aware it’s beyond foolish I feel this way. I have no right to it, no claims over this girl, but I can’t fucking help it. I’ve always been drawn to Tinksley, as though there were some sort of invisible tether luring me toward her. During her adolescence, the pull was strictly intemerate. Watching her grow and blossom into the woman she is today filled me with nothing but pride. But the closer she grew to Pan, the more it began to evolve of its own accord.
Wasn’t until he got his hands on her that such proprietary carnal desires arose like a wild blaze.
He had her…and I wanted her.
And it’s been that way ever since.
“Peter,” Tinksley mewls from behind me.
I have to grind my jaw together to keep the rage at bay as a white-hot flame licks up my spine. I’m tempted to see what exactly triggered such a delectable sound, but I quickly decide against it. I can barely stand the sight of them sharing a kiss.
That very image attaches itself to the soundtrack behind me, forcing my eyes shut. I clamp them tightly and shake the torment from my mind, a torment that comes and goes with each passing day in which she’s none the wiser. I’ve tried finding a way around it, but that goddamn spell is bound too tight.
One last moan breaks through, then I’m gone. Lush grass to the soles of my boots, I evanesce my way north through the forest, cutting through the Fae’s shadowy domain that opens up to the town’s square. Spares me from risking a run-in with the Native’s and the Lost Boys.
They’re not exactly Captain Hook fans these days.
“Tigerlily!” Her name erupts from deep within my throat, the monstrous sound reverberating through the palace as the front doors crash into the walls. “TIGERLILY!” I bellow a second time.
A sudden flash of light on my right grapples my attention.
It’s Samuel, my right-hand man, sauntering out of the parlor as he adjusts his belt. Behind him trail Nina and Brielle hand-in-hand, two of the Sacred Six. Each of them don a flustered blush and a cheeky smirk. The witches then quickly inch up on their toes, plant a kiss to either side of Sam’s face, and scurry out with a giggled, “Goodnight, Captain,” in tow.
Once they’re out of sight, Sam drags his gaze to meet my stare, his lips spreading slyly at my unamused expression. “What?” He shrugs.
“Aren’t they like…a thing?”
Sam’s smile widens all the more. “They are, but they enjoy a good cock every now and then.”
“And your dick just happens to be there ‘every now and then,’ correct?”
I wonder where the hell Tigerlily is.
“Sometimes. Others it’s Armand. Malik and Kaz have indulged, too. Tigerlily was in the library last time I saw her, by the way,” he explains, clearly reading my mind.
At the roll of my eyes, he snickers knowingly like the little maggot he can be.
I detest when he does this, though, it’s not always intentional, if I’m being honest—the boy can’t control it. You see, Sam once obtained the gift of telepathy, and while he still has some access to such powers, it’s not nearly as adept and accurate as it once was. Still, he can oftentimes read me—and everyone else—as if immortality hadn’t claimed the bulk of his abilities.
Rather than get on his case for infiltrating my mind yet again, I simply tip my head and cut my eyes up to the top of the staircase. Why hasn’t this girl shown her face yet? “You’d do well to remember that, despite how alluring they may be, they’re still witches. Witches who don’t particularly agree with our way of life.”
“They’re not like the rest. Nina and Bri are far more laid back,” he argues.
“When they’re playing with your dick,” I look to him once more, “yes, I believe it. However, they’re still a very large part of the Sacred Six. Just be—”
“I’m not thick, Cal.” His growl echoes through the foyer. “If I felt I were in any danger when in their presence, I wouldn’t entertain their advances.”
His short-fused temper amuses me.
Chuckling, I squeeze his shoulder and shake my head. “Never said you were, brother. Just be mindful is all I ask.”
Sam nods in understanding, and with a curt nod of my own, I leave him at the entryway to go in search of Tigerlily. But as my boot hits the first step of the grand spiral staircase, another morsel of advice begs to be delivered.
“Oh, and Sam?” I peer over my shoulder. “The next time you decide to invite them or anyone else over, be sure you’ve run it by me first. I’m not too keen on their kind having access to my home.”
I’m gone after that, not bothering to hear his reply. The boy should know better than to open my doors without my knowledge. He’s lucky I’m so fond of him.
Taking the steps two at a time leads me into a deadly silence, a silence that flashes Tinksley back to the forefront of my mind.
Tinksley bared.
Tinksley bared for Peter.
Moaning and mewling beneath him as he impales her.
I’m livid all over again, nostrils flaring, fangs aching from Tigerlily’s sweet scent wafting through the air. She’s definitely close—still in the library, just as Sam had advised.
Already tasting her on my tongue, I rush up to the grand doors and throw them open with thoughtless force. The girl is unshakeable as always, doesn’t even flinch from her place at the bay window, tilted almond-shaped eyes the only thing that acknowledges my presence as they cut toward me in a glare.
“Can I help you?” she asks, returning her attention to the book in her hands.
The snip in her tone only adds fuel to the fire. With thundering, hulking steps, I close in on her. “You can, actually. Did you not hear me calling for you?”
“No, I didn’t. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t possess supernatural hearing.”
“How could you not have heard it? I yelled it at the top of my lungs!”
“Seems you didn’t hear me. Just a simple human here. Doesn’t matter that you yelled it—this place is massive. Then again,” she turns back toward me, defiance etched on her pretty face, “I don’t answer to you, so perhaps it’s more a case of simply not giving a shit.”
My reaction is instantaneous.
The roar that rips free from my chest is positively volatile. In a flash, I’m yanking her onto her feet by her silken ebony locks, pressing her back to my front. She cries out, the book fumbling from her grip as I give another brutal yank, revealing the bronze column of her neck.