The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)

WINNIE

Two weeks later

I turn the telescope on its tripod. The old metal squeaks. Squinting into the eyepiece, I say to Pan, “You still haven’t oiled this thing.”

“I’ve been busy, Darling.”

I scoff and turn the telescope again, searching the night sky.

And there, finally.

The second star on the right flickers with light. The mighty Peter Pan was birthed by a star goddess, abandoned on Neverland as a boy because he was too volatile, only for the lagoon to give him the shadow so that his true nature would be subdued by the shadow.

Or at least that’s my theory. Pan has been stingy with the details. When I asked him if he was a god, he just scooped me up and carried me to his bed and fucked me until I forgot the question.

Bash and I have sat up here in Pan’s old room, scanning the night sky with the telescope trying to spot an actual god or goddess, but all we see are stars. Doesn’t stop us from looking. I think he and I are fascinated by Peter Pan all over again and Pan is just trying to ignore us like we’re annoying little children trying to get him to reveal his magic tricks.

“Come down from there,” Pan orders. “It’s late and we have a big day tomorrow.”

There are five glasses lined up on the bar and Bash pours us each drinks.

Tomorrow is the official coronation of the fae princes, when they will become fae kings.

It took Tilly a few days to convince the court to allow her to abdicate the throne and for them to welcome the twins back into the fold. It was hard to denounce them when they possessed the Neverland Shadow.

I suppose if Tink did one thing right, it was kidnapping me and forcing Pan to sacrifice the shadow for the boys.

Tilly is gone now. She sailed off on one of her royal ships for islands unknown.

I come down from the platform, leaping off the edge. The shadow breaks my fall and I hit the floor with a soft thud.

Bash offers me a glass. The others take theirs in hand and we lift them into the air.

“To the fae princes becoming kings,” Pan says.

“To the fae princes,” we all say in unison.

The twins’ wings open behind them, filling up the room with iridescent light.

We drink. The alcohol warms my belly and immediately goes to my head.

We’re still trying to figure out how to piece Neverland back together again, but for once I feel like we’re all in it for the right reasons, finally on even ground. And we don’t have to have all the answers right now.

Bash sets his glass down and comes over to me, draping his arm over my shoulder. “Will you be our new queen, Darling?”

I roll my eyes. He’s been asking me this every day since we defeated Tinker Bell. “I doubt the fae would accept me,” I say, as I’ve said every other time.

“The fae will have no choice,” Kas argues.

“Besides,” Bash interjects, “you’re Winnie Fucking Darling. Of course you will be queen.”

The shadow spins in my gut. It likes the ring of “queen.”

I catch Vane’s knowing eyes. He smirks into his glass, then takes a long swig of it.

“Stop that,” I tell him.

“Stop what?”

“Using the shadow to know what I’m thinking.”

“Ohhh.” Bash pops his mouth open, ready to devour the secrets. “Tell us what she’s thinking.”

“She likes the thought of being queen.”

“Hey!”

Vane smiles. Pan laughs. “Of course she does. Our little Darling whore bosses us around. Why not all of Neverland?”

“As if I could ever command you, Peter Pan.”

He takes a sip from his drink and breathes out around the heat. “Let’s try it out. Command me, Darling.”

“Get on your knees for me.”

The boys ooohhh behind me. Vane snorts with amusement.

Pan drains the rest of his drink and sets it down, keeping his eyes on me the entire time.

And then he sinks to his knees in front of me.

“Stop it,” I say, but I’m laughing.

The twins quickly follow suit, Bash first, then Kas, their wings flush against their backs.

I lock eyes with Vane. The glass is still clutched in his hand. If any of them were to tell me to fuck off…

Vane swirls the last of the liquor in the glass, then slings it back and sets the glass on the desk. He comes over to me, takes my hand, and bends to his knees.

He plants a chaste kiss on the rise of my knuckles and says, “As the queen commands it.”

I look around the room at the four men before me, on their knees. I love them, each of them, in my own way and they love me in turn.

My vicious men.

All of them, mine.