Hook's Pan (17 page)

The words that spilled out her mouth, she toyed with him, speaking in double meanings. “My bed,” he growled.

She shrugged, then hooked her fingers underneath her bra latch and undid it, and again wrapped her arms around her breasts. The straps slid down her shoulders.

His tongue grew thick, his mouth dry as he waited impatiently for her to reveal herself. He’d guess pink, bright pink little rosebuds.

“Semantics,” she laughed, and then grabbing the night shift she’d laid next to her, turned her back to him. Only then did she let the bra drop.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he snarled, slamming his hand over his eyes. His cock straining so hard against the seam of his trousers as to be uncomfortable, he adjusted himself. “You are a tease.”

“And so are you, my friend. Fair is fair, no?”

When he finally uncovered his eyes, she was dressed again. A satin gown fell to her ankles in a shimmering shade of pale blue. Her skin almost seemed to glow.

The gown, just like the dress, fit her like a glove. The woman had the type of curves a man could hang onto. Squaring her shoulders, she walked back to the bed with purpose in her steps, then lifting a fine brow, drew her side of the sheets down and slid in.

The silence stretched loud between them, his smile curving higher and higher as the realization dawned that while she appeared nonchalant, she was also nervous. He could tell by the way she constantly wet her lips.

Belly laughter spilled from his tongue. “I will not bite, Trishelle.”

She scoffed. “Oh please, I’m not scared of you. I’m just…well, I’m not used to actually sleeping with guys. If they’re in my bed it’s for one reason only and the second I’m done they’re gone.”

“Heartless,” he teased, though he was no different. He’d never even slept with Talia, not in the way he was now with Trishelle. She’d needed to remain in water during the night, otherwise she’d dry out.

She shrugged. “Less messy.”

He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his fist, tapping his hook on the spot between them. “In truth, I am the same way.”

Rolling to face him, she nodded, and then gave a half chuckle.

“We, neither of us give our hearts easily,” he commented, not sure why he was being so honest and open with her. But it was easy to do; sometimes it felt like he’d known her forever. Like he could tell her anything, and knowing she was soon to leave, it made it even easier. Because she could hold none of his words against him.

“Well at least you’ve given your heart. I never have, don’t think I ever will.”

“It is a rather painful process I hope never to experience again,” he agreed.

Her eyes took on a faraway gleam as she stared over his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, and the sound of that one word trembled with so much pain it pierced through his chest like a barb. He waited for her to smile, to shrug it off as she so often did, but she just continued to stare at the wall, lost to the thoughts in her head.

He’d seen that look before, on the faces of hardened men. Those who’d seen trauma, wars, death. And that it should bother him seeing it on hers annoyed him. He hardly knew her and didn’t honestly care to go beyond their final two days together. Meeting Trishelle of the mortal world had helped him to understand his time grieving Talia must come to an end, and for that he’d be grateful, for that reason alone he cared.

Tracing the line of her jaw with the tip of his hook, he waited until her eyes drew to him. Hers were filled with an echo of lingering sadness.

“What has happened to you to fill your eyes with such pain, little bird?”

A self-effacing look touched her features. “I hate love. Hate what it can do to others.”

“Interesting answer, not one I would have expected. I thought all women mooned at the idea of making a man heel before her.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but still she did not smile.

Grabbing his hook, she rolled onto her back and brought it to her chest, toying with the curve as she drew her finger up and down its side. Though he couldn’t feel the touch, he couldn’t stop from trembling, wondering what that finger might feel like sliding along his true flesh. But she didn’t seem to be aware of what she was doing, she was staring up at the ceiling, her wide green eyes still glittering with so much raw pain he couldn’t stop himself from asking again, “What’s happened to you?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It happened to my sister.”

Something dark and foul began to writhe through his gut at the million different possibilities. Hook wasn’t a good man, never claimed to be. He’d killed, he’d stolen…but women and children (apart from that bastard Pan who was no child, but a man trapped within a child’s body) were off limits. Even when he killed, he didn’t kill the innocent.

Books always made him out to be either a buffoon, or a bloodthirsty pirate with no scruples whatsoever. Neither of which was true. He had a code, and he lived by it honestly.

Her eyes touched his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You must think I’m crazy. I’m not really, it’s just that the anniversary of her death happened two days ago and I’m always a little raw when it does.”

“Death?” He frowned, his thoughts taking darker and darker turns. “How did she die?”

Her face remained impassive, as if she debated internally whether to tell him or not.

“I apologize, my manners have abandoned me, too long aboard a ship with nothing but pirates for company.”

He was rewarded with a little laugh.

“Ah, a smile, I feared I’d never see one again. See, I am not such a beast.”

She chuckled harder. “You’re not beastly at all. In fact, Hook, I think you’re very much in danger of turning into a kitten.”

“Even kittens have claws. Do not mistake what you see down here as who I am really. It is merely a facet of the whole.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Since I’m not interested in killing the rabbit with you, or clamping a ball and chain around your ankles, I see you exactly as you are.” The twinkle in her eyes died out. “She was five years older than me.”

It took a moment for him to realize she’d returned to the topic of her sister. He nodded for her to continue.

She hugged the hook to her chest, forcing him to scoot in closer since it was attached to his wrist. But she didn’t seem to notice, or care, almost like she’d done it subconsciously because she needed something to hang onto and it didn’t bother him to be used thus.

If the men above could only see what she’d turned him into, he’d be laughed off the ship.

“She’d met a guy at a club. Do you know what that is?”

“A gaming hell?”

She frowned. “Umm, not really sure what that is, but I’m thinking not the same thing. It’s a place we can go to drink, meet people, and dance. A great place to pick up losers usually.”

Suddenly he felt the wiggle of toes moving against his legs. He looked down. Was she trying to move them beneath his own? Deciding perhaps she was, he gathered her foot with his, and clamped it between his legs.

She smiled and so did he.

“Anyway, she met this guy. A doctor—he was always quick to correct my family about that, even though he was only a dentist and a lame ass one at that.” She glowered. “Dr. Kurt Smith. Smarmy bastard, blond-haired, blue eyed Ivy League grad. I hated him the moment I met him. But I was fourteen, so what did I know, right?”
 
She wrapped her fingers around his hook and he didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the need to touch her.

“Move over,” he growled, tugging at her, until she rolled over his body. Once they’d traded positions, he packed a pile of pillows behind him and leaned back. “Now, lay on your side and give me your hand.”

“What?” she laughed.

“Just give me your hand, woman.” And taking hers in his good one, he rubbed his thumb along the edge of hers, tracing the soft, smooth skin gently. She shivered, eyes going wide, but she didn’t pull back and he couldn’t fight the grin from tipping his lips. “Now continue.”

“You’re very bossy.”

He lifted a brow and waited.

Expelling a long breath, she nodded. “Anyway, as I was saying. I hated him. He was a spoiled, rich brat used to getting his way, and yes he was gorgeous, and yes he had lots of money, but it seemed like I was the only one who could see the ugly inside.”

His jaw clenched and the need to touch her intensified. He spread his fingers along her own, lacing their hands together. She sighed.

“And why did you not like him?”

She made a sound between her closed lips. “I just didn’t. I couldn’t explain why back then, which is probably why no one listened to me. Not my parents, and especially not my sister. Before long the two of them were living together. At first my sister was all happy and cool about it. But you know how when you know somebody and suddenly they start acting differently, but they won’t really tell you why?”

He nodded.

“That’s what was happening with her. One day she was just different. I idolized my sister. She was so pretty, and fun. I remember that about her. She was always so much fun to be around. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. She’d always tell me how she couldn’t wait until I turned eighteen, we’d have so much fun together. Anyway, the two of them dated for a year. And it seemed like the longer they dated, the less happy she became. One day I asked her why she was even with him anymore and all she did was shrug.”

She scowled and looked at him. “I mean, would you continue to date someone for that long if your only response is a shrug?”

“You’re asking the wrong man, little bird,” he said, trapping her ankle with his foot, “I don’t date. Not even with Talia. I saw her, I claimed her. In my world, it’s really very simple.”

Pink touched her cheeks and she smirked. “The cavewoman in me likes that approach.” She grinned, then turned serious once more. “I didn’t know it at the time, but he’d begun beating her. I should have had a clue, when all she’d started wearing was long sleeve shirts and pants. I mean my sister had a killer body meant for booty shorts and tank tops, I should have known, but I didn’t.”

In his world the beating of women happened. He never engaged in such activities, finding the practice wholly repugnant and beneath him, but it happened. If he didn’t want a woman, he’d simply make her leave. To beat her seemed the height of weakness.

“My parents, me, friends at her college, none of us knew. She hid it well.” She shook her head. “Then one day he asked her to marry him and she said yes.”

“Why?” he frowned. “Did she enjoy the humiliation?”

Trishelle scowled. “I seriously doubt that, but I think she was scared of him. Of what he’d do to her. Only after she died did we finally learn the full truth, she’d recorded it all in her journal. He’d threatened to kill her many times. I think she did it to protect us from him.”

He sighed. “I apologize. I did not mean to imply—”

She squeezed her eyes shut, running her foot up and down his calf, as if seeking warmth. “No, I know. It’s just a touchy subject for me. Even though it’s been ten years since she died, sometimes it feels like just yesterday.”

“Did he kill her?”

She brought their laced hands to her chest and any other moment he would have found a reason to trace the curve of her breast, it was a battle of wills for him not to. But even a pirate knew when the time wasn’t right and the time was definitely not now. In order to resist temptation, he withdrew his hand from hers, and ran it along her bare, upper arm. Goose bumps broke out on her skin.

“I think he did. The law though says he didn’t. A year after their marriage she committed suicide.”

His jaw clenched. “Did she feel like she had no other options?”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t think she cared anymore. She was two months pregnant, but he beat her so bad she lost the baby. It broke her. I found her the next morning. Lying on the couch, pistol on the carpet, and a bottle of vodka on the coffee table.”

It suddenly made so much sense why she held herself back.

“So,” she laughed, a sound full of bitter regret and unshed tears, “now you know why I can never love. I will never allow that to happen to me. I belong to myself and that’s how I like it.”