For the love of all that was holy, this couldn’t be really happening. She must have slipped and fallen, bumped her head. Inhaled too many fumes in the fire. But then again, believing there’d been a fire would also necessitate the belief that there’d been a devil-bug flitting with her tiny devilish wings in front of her and yeah… She licked her lips, pulse throbbing when James/Hook (she bit her tongue to stop the crazy giggle from spilling out) stared down at her with the type of intensity she’d only ever imagined in the millions of bodice rippers she kept stashed around her house.
If it weren’t for the fact that she was currently being held at sword point, she’d be tempted to use her best Southern Belle voice and whisper “I do believe I’m about to swoon.”
“Danika, who is she?” he snapped, his breathing hard but even, eyes never wavering from her face.
Beads of sweat gathered behind her collar and rolled down her back, making her aware all over again of the itchy material on her legs.
“She dresses like him,” he spat, upper lip curling into a most delicious snarl.
Good grief, she was even starting to think like a heroine from those books. Most delicious? Hell, she was losing her mind.
She bug flitted in front of Trisha, holding out her small arms in front of her face. As if that was going to stop him, all he’d have to do was flick her away like the pesky gnat she reminded Trisha of.
“Will you listen?” The little fairy sighed. And Trisha had to admit, even if only to herself, she could be nothing other than a fairy. Which meant by these rules, she was really in Neverland, in Captain Hook’s cabin, probably aboard his ship…smack dab in the middle of an existential nightmare.
She laughed, ignoring his glacial stare.
“Then tell me quickly, for I tire of this game, Danika.” He grabbed his forehead and rubbed and in that moment, Trisha felt pity for him.
That or the fish she’d eaten at lunch wasn’t sitting right. She wasn’t sure which.
Whatever it was, he looked different than the towering and imposing male who’d all but mauled her one second and tried to decapitate her the next. He now seemed deflated. Sitting down, he hunched over his desk with the sword lying on his lap.
Only now did Trisha notice the half-drunk glass of amber liquid on the desk. He picked it up and took it to his lips.
Danika flitted to his ear. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she leaned in and began whispering, giving Trisha time to think and study.
Her brain was still blank. Numb. Because this was almost too ridiculous to take in. To believe that the man in that chair, dressed in a tan shirt that opened at the collar with laces dangling down and black pants that clung like a second skin to the thickness of his thighs was the villain Captain James Hook. Where was the absurd wig Dustin Hoffman had worn in the movie? This man didn’t have a black mop of curls hanging around his head, a thick handle bar mustache pomaded to within an inch of its life, twisted at the ends into a funky curly-q. If he weren’t wearing the hook she’d have thought him just another actor.
But his shirt was loose, and there was nothing tied to his wrist except for the leather straps holding his hook in place. The hook itself also looked more real and lifelike than the one Remy had worn. His had been dull looking, not gleaming like polished silver and glinting wicked in the low light.
The room was full of the masculine, rich scent of wood and smoke and liquor. Everything screamed fine living, even the rug she was sprawled on. It almost appeared Turkish by design, but the feel of it was a whole ‘nother level of rich. The bold red and cream colored patterns were exquisitely soft to the touch.
Betty had told her over and over it was real. Gerard had been handsomely stoic, looking at her as if she was too stupid to understand, because she didn’t come from a world where magic was real. In her world magic was an illusion, a show…elaborate sometimes, but never real.
And if Trisha hadn’t fallen through a dizzying tunnel of stars, if she weren’t touching and seeing and hearing…maybe she could still convince herself this wasn’t real.
But if it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck…
So why was she here?
That was really the only thing that mattered at this point. Why? The ramifications of what all this meant were more than she wanted to consider right now. The only thing she could focus on was that she needed to know why she was here, so she could go home. And maybe like Dorothy she’d wake up and think of this as just a nice dream.
Decided, she cleared her throat and stood.
James/Hook (Jeez, this was really weird) whipped around and glared at her. His silver dusted eyes narrowed into slits as they roamed slowly up, and then down the length of her body, causing her to shiver from the intensity of his gaze. Like she was the cream and he was the hungry cat.
It was wicked, titillating…and there she went again thinking about everything like some cheesy romance heroine. Ugh, she’d read too many bodice rippers in her life.
“So you must be Hook.”
Bug spawn’s jaw unhinged and she stared at Trisha like she’d just sprouted a third eye.
For his part, James’ lips twitched. Whether that meant he was amused or preparing another attack on her person, Trisha wasn’t sure.