Page 5 of The Never Queen

And furthermore, Winnie Darling bows to no man. Least of all a lower-ranking fae noble.

I could tell Vane to let her go, and I could order her to soften to me and tell me what is bothering her, but I am also sulking and perhaps it would be best for both of us if we worked out our own frustrations on each other.

“Put her on her knees, Vane,” I tell him, making my choice, and the corner of Darling’s mouth lifts before quickly flattening out again. She can’t seem too happy to be used like a whore. It would sap all of the luster out of the game we love to play.

Vane pulls her over, her ear to the line of his mouth, and whispers, “Make sure you choke on it for the king. Hmm?”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips and she nods to me, to him.

I am not really the King of Neverland. I operate in some gray area now that my true nature has been revealed, but there is no one above me, so the title remains.

I am her king and her god and the second she is commanded to obey, the tension fades from her body.

Vane yanks her around, puts her back to the opposite wall and shoves her down.

She sinks, like being folded up and submissive to us is her natural state.

Vane’s hand disappears into her thick, dark hair and turns it into a lever, one he wields, angling her up.

With his other hand, he pulls his zipper down and she helps, flicking open the button to free him.

From my vantage point, they are in profile, Darling kneeling, back to the wall, Vane towering over her, his cock thickening as her lips part just inches from him.

He tilts her head all the way back, giving her nowhere to go even if she wanted to.

“Don’t stop until tears are running down her face,” I tell him.

“You want me to make it hurt?” He has his cock fisted in his free hand now, giving it a few testing strokes as Darling steals a breath.

“Yes,” I tell him.

I can hear the uptick in the beating of Darling’s heart. A racehorse thundering beneath the cage of her ribs.

If she wants to be distracted, I will happily oblige.

3

BASH

With Darling, Pan, and Vane otherwise occupied, and the daylight fading in the distance, I coax my brother off the couch and into the breezy ocean air swirling around the back balcony. “Let’s go for a fly.”

Kas is already tying his hair back with a strip of leather. I’ve since started growing mine out again. I miss the weight of it and what it meant to me. Plus, I want to look like my brother again.

I tear off my t-shirt. I’m already barefoot and in a pair of fitted shorts. Now that we’re flying again, we’ve shifted back to tailored clothing to avoid wind drag.

“Where to?” Kas asks, finishing the knot in his hair.

“Let’s skirt the ocean, then head to Marooner’s Rock for a few cliff jumps.”

“You’re on,” he says and then jumps up onto the railing, his wings opening with a snap and rush of air. “Race you.”

“Hey! That’s not fair, you fucker!”

But he’s already caught a crosswind and is sailing toward the beach, his laughter echoing behind him.

Using the railing as a launch pad, I push off, and my wings respond immediately, opening independently of one another. Because I need speed to catch up, not agility, I quickly settle into a phased stroke, my hindwings slightly out of sync with my forewings so I can generate more thrust.

Within seconds, I’m just a few feet in lag behind Kas, the ocean beneath us, the air cooler and glittering with mist.