Coming to rest on his shoulder, she caressed the shell of his ear with her tiny finger. “You always were a handsome devil, James. What a shame that you and Peter cannot find common ground.”
Fury sizzled down his spine, flowed like mercury through his veins. “Do not mention his name. He may appear a child, but he’s the devil incarnate and I’ll skewer him should I ever get the chance.”
Hissing, she jerked away from him, wand in her hand and pointed straight at his chest.
“Put it down,” he warned with a growl in his voice.
“I’ll murder you for saying that.”
Straightening, he smiled ever so slowly. “No, lass, I don’t believe you will. And do you want to know why?”
Her hand shook and her round, owl eyes burned with a mixture of fury and a shade of fear.
Wrapping his hook around the thick rope of a mast, he shook his head. “Because you owe me. What Pan did that day—unforgivable. You know it, I know it. You kill me and Danika will report you to the council, then where would your boys be?”
She slid her wand back inside the mass of her hair, until only the tip of the star poked out, looking like a bright red jewel amidst the crown of roses. “I fixed it. I fixed her. You cannot, you must not…” she muttered.
His heart stuttered. Jerking to attention, he snatched her out of the air, breathing so hard he felt an ache in his lungs. “What do you mean you fixed her?”
In all the years since the day he’d lost her, none had ever told him what had really happened that day. All he’d known was that Pan had been responsible for her death and then her body disappeared. It’d been a mystery that had haunted him for decades.
Mouth tasting of cotton, he cocked his head. “Tell me.”
Her eyes were huge in her pale, ivory face. She swallowed hard, but he felt no sympathy, even as he rubbed her wing between his thumb and finger. Such a delicate, soft thing. It would take nothing to rip it straight off her back, grounding her forever.
“I am not to be trifled with, Tink. You tell me now.”
“I… I…” She closed her eyes, then covered her face with her hands.
It was a rare thing to ever see the legendary Tinkerbell at a loss for words. Hardening his heart, his nostrils flared as he counted slowly to ten in his head. If he got to eleven the wing would come off. Rubbing harder, he counted: Five. Six. Seven—
“Stop, I’ll tell you,” she screamed. “Only release my wing, please,” she choked out on a half sob.
Uncurling his fingers only slightly, he tilted his head. “I’m waiting.”
A crack of thunder sounded beside him, then a rift of blue opened up and out sailed his godmother. Perfect timing as ever.
“Why are you here, Danika?” he asked, without ever taking his eyes off Tinkerbell.
“Release her, Hook. Aye, it was Tink and her boys that did you wrong, but that is not the way The Ten will see it should you kill her.” Danika’s large blue eyes pleaded, her rosebud lips set in a soft frown.
“Not until I learn my answers.”
“Then let me be the one to tell you.”
So many thoughts assailed him. She knew, knew and hadn’t told him the truth. But would it have mattered, made any difference? Because whatever Tinkerbell had done, it hadn’t brought Talia back.
Laughing, the sound full of disgust, he tossed Tinkerbell away. She rolled legs over wings several tumbles before finally righting herself. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she patted her moss back into place and, growling low, eyed Hook as if she would destroy him.
She’d done it to others. How Tinkerbell had the spotless reputation on Earth—that she was a caring, nurturing fairy—was beyond him. Then again, fairytales were always skewed to make the fairies seem all that was kind and caring.
Even Danika, who seemed to care for him more than others, still lied and maneuvered and beguiled whomever, and whatever, to get her way. T’was the way of the fae, they were rarely to be trusted—even if they loved you.
It shouldn’t surprise him she’d known. She’d known with Wolf too.
Turning toward a still glowering Tink, Danika nodded. “Now we are even. Go back to your boys and leave mine alone.”
Baring her fangs with a loud, sibilant hiss, Tinkerbell streaked off in a golden orange blaze.
Sitting, he leaned against the rail, with his legs bent and spread, hands dangling between his thighs as exhaustion lay claim to his body. “So tell me, fairy.”
Nibbling her lip, she buzzed her dragonfly wings excitedly. “When I learned what Tinker had done, I knew I couldn’t tell you, because there was truly no hope. Not then. She saved Talia’s soul, but Peter’s strike had been true. She could do nothing for Talia’s body. Had she not acted when she did, Talia would have died well and true.”
It didn’t take much to deduce why Danika had chosen to keep the truth of the matter from him. Talia’s soul had been sent to Earth, she’d been born a babe with no memories of seas or him.