“You amuse me, mortal,” he said as he glided toward her, stopping only when he was a hairsbreadth away, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. For a while. But make no mistake who is captain here.”
Taking hold of a length of her hair, he let it slide between his fingers. Trisha trembled at the overwhelming masculinity he exuded. If it were possible to smell pheromones, she thought, maybe his might smell like prowling jaguar mixed with potent stud. It was exciting and even slightly dangerous. But she was up to the challenge.
“You don’t scare me, Hook.” She flicked the tip of his silver handled hand and stepped in closer, closing off the distance, making her nipples rub up against the crisp cotton of his shirt.
Lips twitching, he licked his upper teeth and held her frozen for another one of those intense, panty-melting gazes. She knew turning away first would be conceding defeat. He was the male lion sniffing her out, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
After what felt an eternity, he finally smiled. It was a small thing, a tiny curl of the lips at the corners, but it was like taking ten thousand volts of lightening and shoving it down her throat. It was arcing through her veins, singing through her blood, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Turning abruptly on his heels, he walked toward the door, stopping at the desk briefly to grab his decanter of spirits, before walking out. He never looked back.
“You’ll love him, Trisha, I swear it,” Danika said. “The attraction the two of you already share, can you not feel it?”
Oh yeah, she felt it. Felt the fire, felt the reckless desire to run through the flame. But she shook her head, because even if Neverland was real, Hook was real, love was not.
“Open your mind and let the memories return, remember him and you’ll see I speak truth.”
“Love,” she scoffed, finally finding her voice, “the stuff of fairytales and nightmares. No thank you. I didn’t sign up for that. I’ll stay here three days, whatever, but love…no. Lust, maybe.” She smirked. “I won’t deny he’s a sexy S.O.B. But don’t expect miracles.”
Sighing loudly, the little fairy only nodded. “Yes. Yes. Get in line, Trisha. Your skepticism is nothing new to me, in fact, let me enlighten you further. Not only is he the love of your life, but you lived in this world before. A long, long time ago. You were a maiden of the sea. What you mortals call mermaids.”
Trisha opened her mouth, but Danika routed her. “You see, I told you I’m immune to your skepticism. And you may not believe now. But you will. I know who you are, who you really are, and who you’ll be again. I swear to you, Trisha, love is real and it can happen to you. But you must be willing to let go and believe.”
With those words she vanished inside the twirling tunnel of stars.
Dropping down to the bed, Trisha stared at the rug. And what she saw wasn’t the carpet, but the memory of a girl who’d loved once and lost everything because of it.
Chapter 6
Hook popped the cork out of the decanter and drank, enjoying the skin stripping sizzle of the whiskey as it flowed hot down his throat. The sun had set hours ago and a million stars burned up the navy canvas of sky above him. Below him the Never Sea rocked gently, its depths glowing neon blue from the thousands of glow fish during its mating call. Making the world appear as if it were full of stars from every conceivable corner.
The black silhouette of mountain ranges appeared like the craggy profile of a woman at slumber. Wind, smelling of salt and the wild, kissed his temples and ran long fingers through his hair.
Spreading his legs wide, he inhaled deeply. This was his home, where he belonged, with the sea, sailing its tide.
He chugged another mouthful, eyes tearing instantly, and then huffed as it burned a path straight to his stomach.
“Captain,” Smee’s concerned voice carried to him, “I heard a…”
Rolling his gaze toward his first mate, James tipped the empty decanter down with a disgusted frown, before dropping it to the deck. The glass rolled toward Smee, who stooped to pick it up.
“Ignore anything you hear coming from my cabin,” he said.
“But, sir. It sounded like a woman’s voice… You know how the crew get about taking a woman out to sea. ‘Tis said…”
“Yes,” he leaned casually against the rail, studying his nails in the dim moonlight, “I know. Calypso is a jealous mistress and refuses to share, but you see, dear Smee…” He swayed to the rocking of the ship, walking toward one of the three images of Smee, hoping to clap the real one on the shoulder and not the drink induced vision, as he would surely fall and smack his head on deck should he pick the wrong one. Thankfully, he was spared any humiliation when he gripped the left shoulder of his man. “I am told she is the daughter of Calypso.”
Smee’s eyes widened. “A maid of the sea?”
“Or so says Danika. In fact,” he clapped Smee again, so hard he stumbled back a step, “she claims the lass is none other than Talia.”