Forever Cursed (Never Ever Series Book 2) Page 5

  “Do you remember how you got here?” he asked.

  Everything got blurry after seeing the redheaded Irishman. I shuddered. Perhaps it was a good thing I couldn’t recall everything perfectly.

  “What happened to you down there?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  A hundred, thousand things, I thought. “I’d rather not waste time pondering the last day.”

  “Last three days,” James corrected. “You’ve been unconscious for at least three days, my love.”

  I couldn’t take a breath, couldn’t swallow. An invisible cord fastened around my throat, choking me with the truth.

  “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Miss Bell,” James whispered in my ear.

  I nodded. Deep down I knew that, but if I started to rely too much on James and something happened to him, I wouldn’t know how to be strong on my own. I nearly crumbled the last time I thought he died. I knew my heart would be crushed completely should that become a reality. I wouldn’t know how to carry on.

  “Let’s start with that bath,” James said, slipping me off his lap enough for him to stand. “There is a fresh water spring just a few paces away.”

  I moved to stand when James stopped me. “Over my dead body,” he said. “I’ll not let any dame struggle to take a step on their own when I’m around.”

  “I can,” I assured him, but as soon as I put weight on my leg, I collapsed.

  James caught me by the arm. He raised an eyebrow and waited for me to let him help me. I would have if he was healthy. But judging from the fresh blood stains on his bandages, he was far worse than me.

  “Your damaged arm—”

  “Michael cut off my hand, not my arm,” he interrupted. “I carried you across the scalding hot sand for half a day before reaching the tree line. So, I am very much aware of my capabilities, Miss Bell.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wishing he wasn’t in so much pain too.

  Taking a deep breath, he drew himself in. When he released it, his shoulders were squared, his head was higher, and his regal poise had returned.

  This time he didn’t ask. “You need to get cleaned up, and there is no way I’m allowing you to attempt to walk in your condition.”

  “Yet you’d carry me in yours?”

  “Unquestionably.”

  Before I poked holes in his reasoning, he slipped his injured arm underneath me and the other behind my back. I tried not to think about how much pain he was in. If I could have wished myself weightless, I would have. Yet he did not act like it hurt.

  “Captain James, we have two tears.”

  “Yes, I am glad you bring that up,” he said, lightly, though the undertone of his voice was anything but. “How long are you going to wait to use them?”

  “If you keep pushing yourself as hard—”

  “As I must, we might just make it off this island alive,” he interrupted. “My wounds will heal, my love. They are just slower than we both would like. Regardless, your back injuries are more magically inclined. It is the only way you will get your wings back, and I am done repeating this argument. Those tears are yours. I will not take them from you. You’ve given up enough already.”

  “I am not the only one who has sacrificed,” I said.

  He didn’t reply to that. He just carried on like I was going to let his stubbornness win over.

  Minutes passed as we wandered deeper into the forest. Eventually, we came upon a hidden spring surrounded by huge, white cypress trees. Black vines dangled from the branches, dipping into the clear water. I buried my head into James’ chest after seeing my reflection in the water. Bits of dirt and dried blood had matted down the hair around my temple. Dark lines lingered under my eyes. A series of scratches were gouged into my shoulders.

  “It pains me to look at you too,” James whispered in my ear. With me still in his arms, he kicked off his boots. “I’m joining you.”

  Again, he wasn’t asking.

  Besides, a fresh rinse would do him good. Nevertheless, I bit my bottom lip. I very much enjoyed the thought of him in the crystal-clear water with me.

  “There she is, my little vixen,” he said and grinned.

  The way his smile reached his eyes made my heart swell. To see him happy was almost worth the guilt of him carrying me. Almost.

  In the center of the pool were marble boulders. Water bubbled up through the cracks in the boulders—a spring. Flames danced on the water at the very top of the boulders, burning away any impurities. Then the water cascaded down, creating small waterfalls from the sides.

  Soft white flowers clung to the spring’s edges, spilling over, and hanging just above the water. Pink pollen hung in the air, suspended like gravity didn’t have a hold on them. Each one unique of its own design, like a snowflake. Once they touched the dirt ground, the pollen turned orange.

  “Mab’s Garden,” I acknowledged. “Well, Kensington’s Garden as he now rules Neverland.”

  “You recognize this place?”

  I nodded, trying not to think too hard about how Kensington banished Mab to Skull Rock with…that horrid excuse of a man. I dismissed, “Mab traded the garden for a pile of rocks after a falling out with the monarch.”

  “A falling out?” James commented.

  Falling out. Fight. All-out war.

  “It wasn’t so much that she willingly traded this garden for Skull Rock, a pile of rocks next to the Crown Estate, as she was sentenced there. Mab was my queen and called this garden home until Kensington seized it,” I sighed and carried on before James did that annoying habit of demanding further explanation. “Over the years Kensington gained the loyalty of the natives and deemed himself royalty of this island as he was a monarch before coming here. I suppose it wasn’t entirely unforeseeable as the most power-driven, wicked, vile men are collected and brought here.”

  “And a fairy lost?” James asked in disbelief. His voice dropped an octave. “I would very much like to meet this monarch.”

  “Careful what you wish for, my captain. You might just get it.”

  He didn’t comment about wishes but instead asked, “How did Mab lose?”

  “Kensington caught her, forced her feet to the earth and then,” I shuddered, “let his practitioner do his worst with her. He discovered fairy dust.”

  “What is the practitioner’s name?” James asked.

  I forgot to breathe for a moment. It had been years since anyone referred to him as anything other than the practitioner. Years passed since I uttered his real name, releasing it into the air. How was I to keep this from James? He didn’t know. And the secrets I kept about fairy dust, in general, were adding up. I knew I needed to give him something.

  “Jukes,” I whispered.

  “And where is this Jukes fellow now?”

  My skin prickled at the sound of his name. “At his home on Skull Rock.”

  “With Mab, the queen?”

  “So to speak.”

  I could tell he was getting frustrated with me by the sound of his teeth grinding. That only made me want to carry on a different conversation. Any conversation other than this one.

  He asked, “Speak in more detail, please.”

  “Skull Rock is a collection of marble boulders that collected just off Neverland’s shore. It follows the island, moving just as unpredictable as the island itself,” I admitted.

  “I meant more details about Mab.” He added, “Please.”

  “Skull Rock got its name for a reason,” I said. “It’s all that is left of her bones after the practitioner was done with her.”

  “Feck,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just…I ask because if we’re to get off this blasted island, I need to know all I can about fairy dust. I can’t very well walk around in the dark.”

  “It gets quite dark here,” I said, changing the subject at the first chance I got. There were so many horrid tiny details about fairy dust—particularly one I did not want to discuss with James. Not now, an
d if I had my way, not ever. “We should probably get cleaned up before all the light slips away.”

  Gathering me in his arms, he lowered me to the spring’s edge. The white flowers felt like cotton underneath me. Hanging my legs over the sharp edge, I dipped my legs in, but when the water splashed on the bottom of my feet, I cried out.

  “Those lacerations on your feet are quite deep,” James said, not moving from my side.

  I pulled a leg up and inspected my foot. Lacerations littered the bottoms. I looked at James for answers.

  “You mumbled quite a bit about running,” he said. “I caught you just as the ice was breaking under your feet.”

  “Ice?”

  “The lagoon was a sheet of ice,” he said.

  Bits of my run surfaced. But it was the desperation that left its impression on me. I needed to see James again.

  “You are remembering more,” he acknowledged.

  I nodded as the image of James tethered to the shore flooded my memories. Pieces of his confession came to pass. He saw what could not be unseen. He heard what could not be unheard.

  “I hate mermaids,” I said.

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  Many more words could be said, but I didn’t want to say them. They hurt my heart enough being silent.

  “Miss Bell, I am yours,” James said. “Only yours.”

  A single tear slipped down my cheek. “Lovely words. Lovely lies.”

  “I was yours the moment I saw you,” he said and then rolled his thumb over my lip. “I remember pacing the deck as I waited for you to awake. For nearly two weeks you kept me at bay, and then just when I had given up that you’d ever wake, you did. I swear it was to spite me.”

  “You were quite intimidating,” I admitted.

  “You didn’t show it,” he replied. “In fact, I swear you were being intentionally difficult.”

  I giggled. “I was.”

  “You may have given up your voice, Miss Bell, but I have always found that laugh of yours to be the most addictive sound I’ve ever heard,” he said and closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed. “Your nose was still pink from the sun. I could smell the sunshine on your skin, and I wanted to see so much more of you as you were twirling around in that blasted see-through dress. That would have been enough to interest any gent, but it was the intensity in your gaze that compelled me. I was yours from that second on.”

  “Captain?”

  His eyes snapped open. “Yes, my love?”

  “I cannot lose you.”

  “You haven’t,” he said and gathered my hand, placing the softest kiss on it. “I will survive your love.”

  “No one ever has.”

  “I’m not just anyone,” he said and I swore not a second passed until I believed he could survive being with me.

  And then he kissed the top of my shoulder—the place where my tattoo had ended. I needn’t hear him say the words to know his kiss meant he sought revenge for what Peter had done to me.

  “Peter will come for you first,” I said. “He sees you as a threat and will seek to remove you at his earliest convenience.”

  “Good,” James swore. I’d never heard abhorrence leak from another’s voice as clearly as that one word had come from James’ throat. He snarled, “I am counting on it.”

  “What do you have planned for them? For Peter…for Michael…for all of them?”

  To that, he only smirked.

  Revenge would consume him. Just like it consumed me every time I noticed the space where his hand should have been. Peter would pay for what he did to James. I didn’t care if it was Michael who swung the sword—Peter had been the instigator. I should have grown wary of men like James, but that went against my nature. I’d found many men by their fixation on vengeance. It beckoned me. He was my perfect counterpart. My darkness, my inhibitions, my desires, everything I wanted in another, James was exactly that. He was a force to be reckoned with and I lived off chaos.

  I was quite distracted with vengeful fantasies until James stood up and took off his shirt, tossing it aside without a passing thought. However, many thoughts ambushed me. The details of his body. The lines of his muscles. He did not have them for vanity. I knew he’d worked hard for each one, doing what must be done. I recalled watching him tighten ropes, move cargo, sail a ship through a storm, and countless other requests because that was what needed to be done.

  He reached down and removed a blade strapped to his leg. He tossed it on the beach—nowhere close to his shirt. Things were scattered about like he laid claim to this land. The way he took what he wanted drew me closer to him. That he did what he wanted without hesitation was extremely desirable. Standing before me was a man who lived with little regrets. That he held his head high, even when many men would have crumbled, beckoned me.

  He reached for his belt and paused. “You don’t find me revolting?” he asked.

  “Revolting?” I repeated and then didn’t bother trying to figure out the thoughts of a man whose body robbed me of thinking. Besides, until he spoke, I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at his hand on his belt. And then, I didn’t care to take my eyes off it.

  “Let me help you with that,” I said, focused on the loops. “I can’t imagine the level of difficulty it would be to attempt to remove it.”

  “I can do it.”

  My gaze locked with his. Now it was my turn to demand. “I’m not asking.”

  He cocked his head to the side like he was in awe. “You truly do not see me as repulsive?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. He could see the truth in my eyes. The desire on my parted lips. The heat flooding my cheeks. Finally, he didn’t insist upon a complex conversation. He simply gave me what I wanted.

  He walked up to me, stopping just inches away. I took my time meeting his gaze, drinking in the length of his body. I quite enjoyed the lines of his muscled chest, rippling down his stomach and angling like an arrow to his waist.

  My hands trembled as I reached for his belt. As I undid the buckle, a soft sound of enjoyment slipped from my throat. The belt had barely loosened when James was kneeling beside me, devouring my lips with his kiss.

  An eager moan rose from him. I drank it in. Heaven help me, I drank it all in as he cupped my face in his hand. He held on to me like he might lose me at any moment. Instinctively I placed my hand over his, holding on tight. I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted him to know that—needed him to know that. And as much as I wanted to drown in his zeal, my breaths were slipping away fast. I couldn’t keep up; my ribs were protesting rather profusely. I broke the kiss but didn’t pull away.

  “You can say so much with a single look, my love,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine. “And you stare at me like you can’t take another breath until I kiss you.”

  “Words complicate things.”

  He chuckled, mumbling that ‘of course I’d say something like that.’ Then he gave me a peck on my nose before pulling away from me.

  “Stop pouting,” he said, with a wink.

  I raised an eyebrow, which made him burst out laughing. That sound was the most priceless sound I’d ever heard. The weight that had been pressing down on him lifted with each chuckle. Mercy, I could listen to the deepness of those laughs until the end of time.

  “Miss Bell, it took you several seconds to catch your breath,” he said. “And I cannot very well kiss you when you whimper like I’m hurting you.”

  I wanted to tell him my ribs were of no concern, but it would have been a lie. I sighed and crossed my arms in dissatisfaction.

  He moved to sit down next to me but then paused and went to retrieve his shirt. After holding it under the falling water, he sat down beside me and reached for my legs. He lightly pressed the cloth against my skin, just enough to clean the dirt and grime off. The bruising carried up and down my legs. I cringed at the thought of seeing the full sight of my side.

  “Am I pressing too hard?” James asked.

  He was so in tune to me,
it was quite startling. “No, I’m just concerned with how I look underneath my attire.”

  “Don’t think about that now,” he replied. “Let’s concentrate on one part at a time.”

  I grabbed his hand and stopped him. I started to ask if he’d examined my injuries but my question became mute. Clearly, he had.

  “Thank you,” I said and released his hand so he could reach lower down my legs to my shins. “For doing that.”

  “Of course.”

  He repeated the process until all the bits of dried dirt and blood were cleaned. When he finished with my legs, he started to saturate the cloth again but stopped.

  “I don’t want you to have the image of me covered in bruises,” I said and glanced over my shoulder. “Exposure is wildly unpleasant.”

  It took James a moment to realize what I was saying. “You don’t like feeling exposed.”

  I nodded. “Admitting vulnerability is difficult.”

  “I’ve seen the worst of it. Your hip has a horrible bruise that…” His knuckles cracked as he cursed the mermaids. “But your stomach is peppered with bruises and your skin is scraped quite badly around your lower ribs. It would do some good to clean them.”

  “Not out in the open like this.”

  “The water is clear.”

  “It…blurs things,” I stammered.

  He glanced at the bandages around his wrist. It was fast, but I saw it nevertheless. He was concerned with them.

  “Fine,” he said, letting me have my way. “But if you are going to take a dip, then how about showering under the waterfall?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Hold onto my shoulder to take some weight off the bottom of your feet,” he said. “The buoyancy should help carry some of your body weight as well.”

  He stood and let gravity take his pants. My bottom lip hurt from all my biting.

  “You make things difficult for me,” I said, glancing at the crumpled clothes on the ground. Seeing the muscular lines of his legs sent a buffet of impure thoughts. I wanted to know just how hard he could push me over the edge with those legs. “Very difficult,” I added.

  “Good.”